Pitch Please

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Was he being serious?

  But I could tell by the death glare that Park was sending Hannibal that he was being very serious.

  “That’s…uhhh…interesting,” I finally added. “Is that where you got the tattoos?”

  I pointed to the tattoos that lined his arms.

  Hancock had tattoos. As did most of these men.

  But Park’s were darker.

  Scarier and more crude looking.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Most of ‘em I got before I was seventeen.” He held up his hands and rotated his arms, his big muscles bulging each time he moved.

  “What about the one on your neck?” I pointed to one that looked like a single black line that ran completely around his neck, just below his Adam’s apple.

  Park’s face closed off, and instantly I knew he wouldn’t be answering that.

  As did the rest of them if the look on their faces was anything to go by.

  “Do you have seats for us tomorrow?” Hannibal asked his brother. “We’re in town for another thirty-six hours, and that’s enough to take in a game.”

  Hancock’s lips twitched with the knowledge that these boys were going to be forced to watch a game in real time. “Yeah, I can get some next to mom and dad.”

  Hannibal grimaced.

  “I’m not getting out of seeing them, am I?” he asked.

  Hancock shook his head. “No, I don’t think you are.”

  “Fucking wonderful.”

  ***

  “I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date…” I chattered as I hurried to the door that would lead me into the stadium.

  Soren, the guard who was posted at the back entrance at every home game, waved at me and opened the door.

  “How are you, Miss Sway?” he asked politely.

  “I’m great, Soren. How are you?” I returned sweetly as I passed.

  “Two more weeks!” he informed me. “That means I’m freakin’ great.”

  I started to chuckle.

  Soren and his wife were having their first child together, and she’d been on bed rest since she was seventeen weeks pregnant. Now at thirty-five weeks, she only had two more weeks until she was allowed to move about.

  “That’s wonderful news!” I told him sincerely. “It’ll be here before you know it, and you’ll have your sleepless nights to deal with!”

  He chuckled as he waved me on, and I started for the stairs.

  I looked down at the new Fitbit on my hand, the one Hancock had given to me the night before.

  He’d received it as part of a promotional campaign, and he was supposed to wear it and then let them know what he thought of the product.

  Except Hancock didn’t wear anything on his wrists during games or practices—which happened to be what he was doing much of the time during the season—so he’d given it to me.

  It was cool, I’d give them that.

  It was also motivating.

  I hadn’t realized how little I moved until this thing on my wrist told me.

  Which, I suppose, was the whole purpose of this product in the first place.

  Normally, I would’ve taken the elevator to where I needed to go, but today I chose the stairs to boost today’s step count hit since yesterdays had been so pitifully lame.

  I’d just crested the first flight of stairs when I saw Sinclair coming down from the flight above me, a box in his hands and a scowl on his face.

  “Fuckin’ bitch,” Sinclair growled. “This is all your fault.”

  At first, I thought he was talking to me, but it soon became apparent that he wasn’t when he looked over his shoulder.

  “Not sure why you think it’s my fault,” Croft grumbled. “I paid you kindly for what you did.”

  “Not kindly enough to lose this job. Do you realize how much I make a year?” he asked. “Two hundred K. That’s twice the amount that you offered to pay me for doing your dirty work.”

  “You did this to yourself. I paid you. I never told you to make friends with that bitch’s ex-boyfriend or try to get her fired,” Croft shot back. “That’s all on you.”

  “Well you better find a way to get me another decent-paying job, or I’ll let everyone know that you were the one stealing everybody’s stuff,” Sinclair snapped.

  “It wasn’t stealing. I borrowed,” Croft replied.

  “You stole the glove. You made a copy of the glove, but you still have the original,” Sinclair stopped and dropped his box to the stairs. “You took Manny’s bubble gum and Jessup’s batting gloves.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Croft narrowed his eyes.

  “I do know what I’m talking about.” Sinclair crossed his arms over his chest. “And that’ll get you kicked out of this place just as surely as calling that bitch a fat ass will.”

  I went to the landing and tried the door handle, thankful that it wasn’t locked.

  It led to the locker room level, which usually was locked.

  Luckily, not today, because without waiting for a reply, Sinclair picked his box up and tucked it under his arm.

  “I suggest you figure out whether having a professional baseball career is worth…you fucking bitch!”

  This time I knew he was talking to me. I knew it, mostly because the moment I tried to go into the door, someone was coming out of it, forcing me to back up whether I wanted to or not.

  “Language,” the big man, Furious George, replied. “Sorry, little lady. Did you need something in here?”

  I nodded my head and then blushed.

  I didn’t normally go into the locker room if there was a possibility that they were getting dressed, if I could help it. Most of them walked around naked half the time, and if I could save myself the embarrassment of seeing men who weren’t Hancock naked, I’d do it.

  “I was trying to see Hancock,” I lied. “Is he in there?”

  Furious George’s face went from me, to the stairs above me where I suspected Sinclair and Croft were standing, glaring most likely.

  “How about you and me walk up there together?” he asked. “I wanted to get you to look at my wrist anyway. I had to play with a different bat yesterday because mine went missing, and now it’s killing me.”

  I wanted to scream at Croft, asking him if he’d stolen George’s bat, too, but I managed to control that reaction.

  But just barely.

  I could tell when we passed Croft that he knew I was about to blab everything.

  Which was why, in the next moment, he grabbed me by the hair as I moved by him and tried to throw me down the stairs.

  But suddenly we weren’t alone.

  George took Croft by the throat as I started to fall.

  Or would have fallen had my man not caught me before I could go tumbling down the stairs.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” Hancock hissed, pulling me protectively into his arms and burying his face into my neck. “What the hell is wrong with that fucking kid?”

  George’s hand tightened on the kid’s throat, and Sinclair took in the look on both George and Hancock’s faces and decided to cut his losses.

  Without another word, he left, leaving us alone with a purple-faced Croft who had a whole lot of questions to answer.

  His interrogation took about an hour as Siggy got into drill sergeant mode— something he’d picked up during his eight years in the Army—and grilled Croft until he confessed to every single thing he’d stolen over the course of the season.

  Something I wasn’t able to stay and witness since I had a whole baseball team to prepare for the upcoming game, and two assistants, who could only work under my direction since they weren’t certified athletic trainers like I was.

  Forty-five minutes later, I was bending over to check my bag that I took with me to all the games when I felt someone come up behind me.

  I knew it was Hancock without even looking up.

  Not because I could smell him or feel
him, but because he was just that big of a presence. It was like my body was tuned in to his, and I knew it was him from the electrical charge I always felt when he was close.

  “You ready, big boy?” I asked him.

  He stilled my hips that I didn’t even realize were swaying to the music playing softly on the phone in my pocket and fitted his chest against my back.

  “I’m ready,” he agreed. “Even more ready now that I have my glove back.”

  “You have your glove back?” I whispered, straightening. “But I didn’t even tell you that…”

  “I heard everything that was said. I’d already come into the stairwell to meet you in the parking lot, but I froze when I heard Sinclair and Croft talking,” he explained. “That’s why I was late getting to you.”

  I harrumphed.

  “I can’t believe that kid stole all those things.” I shook my head in confusion. “From what I understand, he was a decent catcher at one time. He didn’t need to steal y’all’s shit to get any better.”

  “My guess is that the kid just wanted to fit in. Maybe he wanted to commiserate with the players that lost something,” he explained. “But we won’t know for sure until Siggy gets done with him.”

  I shuddered as I thought about Siggy getting done with him.

  “Alright, you handsome man, are you ready to play?” I asked, changing the subject to something a little less sad.

  My handsome man with his badass beard smiled.

  “I will be as soon as you give me my kiss.”

  I gave him a kiss.

  “Break a leg.”

  His eyes crossed.

  “That’s not what you’re supposed to say!” he growled in exasperation. “Never!”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Then what am I supposed to say?” I questioned.

  “Have a good game?” he tried. “Telling me to break a leg isn’t something you’d ever want to wish on me.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Not whatever,” he countered. “If I break a leg, you’re going to regret it.”

  “You won’t break a leg. Now get out there, and show ‘em what you got.” I shouldered my bag. “I’ll see you on the bench.”

  He sighed and pushed away, holding my office door open for me.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  It was in the second inning that he broke a leg.

  Luckily, it wasn’t his own leg that he broke, but the other team’s catcher’s leg when he had tried to stop Hancock from crossing home plate.

  He scored, and the catcher got a season-ending injury for his efforts.

  Chapter 25

  Catcher has a big butt.

  -Things you shouldn’t say to your professional baseball player that just so happens to be a catcher.

  Hancock

  162nd game of the season

  Texas Lumberjacks v. Shreveport Sparks

  Home Game

  “Good to see you,” I offered my hand to the man who was sitting along the first base line, Gabe. “How’s it going.”

  Ember took my hand as well and then gestured to the perky blonde next to her. “This is Rainie.”

  Rainie waved spastically, and I decided these two ladies in front of me were perfect for my Sway.

  “You know what to do?” I asked.

  Rainie and Ember both nodded.

  “We do,” both women promised.

  I grinned and handed the man, Gabe, my ring box.

  “I would give it to my mom, but she wouldn’t be able to hold it in…and my brothers are three sheets to the wind.” I pointed at my brothers and parents who were sitting just above the dugout.

  “That’s pretty funny, actually,” Ember giggled. “Hannibal was just telling us how much your mom drives him crazy.”

  I grinned, my eyes straying over to my brother. He was miserable right now.

  After careful consideration, he’d decided to take a hiatus from the black ops team—a hiatus that his CO insisted on for his ‘mental health.’ Though the reason behind this break wasn’t a good one, I could see my brother getting better daily.

  Although I was sure that had a lot to do with him doing hard, manual labor at our family’s ranch—a place we were headed to this evening after the game for a fun-filled weekend of branding the new cattle.

  I still helped around the ranch when I had time, and since this was the last game of the season, it coincided perfectly with the ranch. Which meant my parents wouldn’t have to hire anybody to help since not only was I coming to help, but Hannibal was there now, too.

  “She’s worried about her baby,” I teased. “He’s the last one who hasn’t found someone, and she wants to make sure he’s not alone forever.”

  Ember snorted.

  “He went with us to The Back Porch yesterday. He had no trouble finding women,” Ember pointed out.

  “No,” I agreed. “He’s never had that problem. What she’s worried about is him finding someone who’ll be good enough for her to get some grandbabies from.”

  “Ahhh,” Ember nodded.

  “She should probably start checking out Longview, then,” Gabe grinned. “All the good ones are taken in Kilgore.”

  Ember smacked her husband’s chest.

  “That’s not true,” she disagreed. “There’s that girl at the supermarket…and our son’s teacher.”

  Gabe’s eyes sparkled. “You want to set up poor, sweet, innocent Hannibal with that harpy who teaches Luca? You’ve got to be kidding.”

  Chuckling, I waved them off and headed for the dugout where my woman had just taken her seat.

  In my spot.

  “You’re in my seat!” I bellowed the moment I was at the top of the steps.

  Sway didn’t bother to look up.

  “Imagine that,” she mused. “I sure am.”

  Hooking her around the waist with one arm, I scooted her down and took my place directly beside her.

  “You forgot to kiss me,” I declared.

  She offered her lips, but kept her eyes on the book that she was reading. One with a jacked guy in a kilt on the cover.

  “Good book?” I asked, her, waiting for her to look into my eyes.

  “Great book,” she nodded. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

  I gave her a kiss.

  “Now what do you say?” I teased.

  “Break…” I pressed my hand over her mouth before she could finish that thought.

  “Sway,” I glared.

  She grinned broadly behind my hand. So widely, in fact, I could feel her teeth on my fingers.

  “I hope you have a good game and hit two home runs,” she said sweetly.

  I sighed.

  “I guess that’s good enough.”

  “And now if everyone will please stand for the National Anthem.”

  I touched the tip of Sway’s nose with my pointer finger, and then climbed the steps to take my spot on the field with my hand over my heart.

  Furious George came up to me and slapped me on the back before following suit.

  “The kid wanted me to thank you again for coming to see him at the hospital yesterday,” George murmured. “He said you brought signed baseballs for the entire floor. Are you actively trying to make me look bad?”

  I started to laugh.

  “No. But it works out well, doesn’t it?” I challenged.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “You asking her?” George asked, his eyes trained in the same direction mine were. On Sway.

  She was wearing her signature khaki pants and fitted green polo shirt that declared her ‘Lumberjack Staff.’ Though she’d changed her shoes.

  They were white Converse that had the toes decorated with green rhinestones. The side of the shoe also had a green rhinestone number 49, which made me happy that she was wearing my number, even if it was understated.

  It’d be better if she had that number tattooed on her cheek or something…r />
  “Think she’ll say yes?” he asked.

  I nodded my head.

  “Yep.”

  “So sure of yourself?” he asked.

  I nodded again.

  “Yep.”

  He snorted.

  “Marriage is hard.”

  I turned my head to look at him.

  “Yeah?”

  He nodded.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed. “But it’s worth it. I’d give my left nut to have my marriage back. Absolutely anything for just one more night with my arms wrapped around her.”

  Silence fell as the anthem started to play, and I closed my eyes and thanked God that Sway was mine.

  That I would never—God willing—feel what Furious George was feeling at that moment.

  ***

  Three hours and forty-one minutes later, I hit the game winning run straight over the right field wall.

  The crowd around me went wild, and I started to run at a slow jog, stopping to slap hands with Sterling, the Shreveport Sparks in-fielder, as I went.

  “That was just lucky,” Sterling called as I passed.

  I raised a brow at him.

  “Or maybe you’re just unlucky,” I countered.

  He started to laugh, and his humor followed me as I made my way around the bases.

  My eyes went to Gabe who was standing by the wall, a broad grin on his face as he looked down at his wife who was talking animatedly with her hands.

  The moment I rounded home and started heading in their direction, I was pounced on, my teammates surrounding me as they congratulated me.

  “Did you know that you passed up the lead in home runs this season with that hit?” someone yelled.

  I turned to find a reporter directly behind my back, and I grinned.

  “It feels damn good,” I informed her. “Will you excuse me for a few seconds?”

  I ducked and jived when the cooler of Powerade started heading for my head, and then cursed when I couldn’t avoid the second cooler coming at me.

  “Goddammit, you fuckers,” I shouted as the red sports drink poured all over me, staining the white parts of my uniform instantly.

  The boys chuckled as I flicked my hands out at my side, and I sighed as I made my way to Gabe.

  Gabe was ready for me the moment I got there and passed me the velvet box without a word.