No Sunshine When She's Gone (19 page)

Risk stood with his hands on his hips; Psycho joined them, too. He refused to be left out of the conversation.

“Our pitcher is hurt,” Aidan said, coming right to the point. “We need to make a switch.”

Risk nodded. “You have two alternates.”

“I’m not sure of the rules, but I’d like to appoint Mike Burke as our player/coach,” said Aidan.

The umpire scratched his head. “This isn’t the World Series. An exception to the rule won’t hurt today. It’s the top of the ninth, the game’s almost over.”

“Unless we tie it up and get a rally going,” Psycho put in.

“I have no objection to the substitution,” said Risk.

“Is he any good?” asked Psycho.

“He’s the best we have,” Aidan said.

“Let’s get back to it.” Risk nudged him toward the visitor’s dugout.

Mike glared at Aidan on his return. “Three up, three down, that’s all we need,” Aidan said.

Mike shook his head. “My pitching days are over.”

“We need you, dude,” said Dune.

“You can keep the trophy if we win,” Shaye offered. And everyone agreed.

“I don’t need a trophy.” Mike was being obstinate.

Carrie came to stand beside him. She pinched his arm. His skin turned white where she squeezed. “You may not need this, but I do,” she said. “I’ve played hard. I gave my heart for eight innings. Get your ass out there and close this for me.”

Mike narrowed his gaze on her; his hate face was in place. He wore it well. He pulled free of Carrie’s hold, and flexed his hand. Aidan debated Mike’s capabilities. The man could grip, but how well could he toss these days? They were about to find out.

“Son of a bitch,” Mike mumbled when Carrie gave him her mitt, and he and his team took the field. The man wasn’t happy.

Aidan had pushed Mike into a position Mike had never planned to play again. Softball wasn’t fastball, yet the electric charge of the crowd had built to major-league proportions. There was clapping and stomping. Cheers and whistles. The air vibrated with a life of its own.

Mike stood on the rectangular-shaped rubber, his chest rising and falling as he warmed up. The catcher gave him a thumbs-up with each throw. Team encouragement ran high.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the umpire called to him.

The time was now. It was the top of the order for the Rogues. Psycho, Risk, and Jill were to bat.

“You can do this, Michael,” Agnes called to him from first base. “Psycho’s an easy out.”

Psycho looked down the baseline at Agnes. “Get ready to eat your words, Aggie.”

Agnes rolled her eyes. “Pshaw.”

Mike locked his jaw. Do or die, he threw his first pitch. Psycho connected with the ball, a grounder that flew past the shortstop. One man was now on base. No outs.

“Told you so,” Psycho bragged to Agnes.

“You’re not home yet.” The older woman gave back as good as she got.

Dune Cates caught Risk’s high fly ball to center. His long legs covered a lot of the outfield in a very short time. One down.

Jill batted next, attempted a bunt. The ball tipped back and was caught by the catcher. Two away.

James Lawless stepped aside and offered Rylan his turn at bat. No one questioned his motive. Ry belonged to both the Rogues and Barefoot William. It was a hometown courtesy. If Ry should get a hit, James would then follow. If not, Rylan would still get the final round of applause.

Aidan noticed that his brother seemed reluctant to bat against Mike; up until the time Psycho shouted, “Bring me home, Ry.”

Rylan passed on three balls before he found his pitch. Once he did, he smacked the shit out of the softball. He totally killed it. The bat broke and shattered. Splinters flew all the way to Mike.

Mike should’ve ducked, but he didn’t. His eye was on the ball. Aidan watched as he dove for it. He managed to make the catch. He was back on his feet in a heartbeat, throwing the ball to Agnes at first.

Mike threw hard. Aidan was afraid Agnes wouldn’t be able to handle the catch. She managed, using both hands. Rylan was running toward her. Psycho was four feet off the base, but he had yet to commit to second. He’d been watching the action. Mike had awed the crowd. He’d performed like a major league player.

The third out was yet to be made. Agnes had her choice: would it be Rylan or Psycho? Ry was the easy out. Instead she chose Psycho. She lunged, tagged him.

Psycho looked so stunned it was comical.

Agnes pumped her arm in victory.

Three down. Team Barefoot William had won.

Celebration erupted on the field. Dune Cates cheered with the same enthusiasm he’d once shown when winning a volleyball tournament. Aidan watched as his family and friends hopped up and down and acted like kids. There were high fives, fist bumps, and slaps on the back.

Risk Kincaid approached Aidan shortly thereafter. “Got a minute?” he asked, looking serious.

Aidan nodded. The two men walked toward right field.

“I want to discuss Mike Burke.” Risk got right to the point.

Mike had been tense all day. Aidan hoped his superintendent hadn’t offended Risk or any of the other Rogues. “What about him?” Aidan asked.

“You’re aware of his history with Rylan,” said Risk. And Aidan nodded. “Ry came to me several weeks ago after one of our assistant pitching coaches announced his retirement. The man’s leaving after this season. Ry brought college film of Mike for me to watch. Skill, mechanics, and vision don’t always come together for a pitcher. Mike had it all.”

Risk paused, then continued with, “Mike saved Ry’s life from what I understand. Rylan has always wanted to repay him.”

“A simple thank-you would’ve sufficed,” Aidan said. “But my younger brother never felt words were enough. Over the years he’s thought about buying Mike a house, a boat, a car, but always changed his mind. He told me the right gift would come around in time.”

“That gift could be now,” Risk informed him. “I’d like to interview Mike for the coach’s position; bring him into our organization next spring if we’re a fit. I wanted to check with you first though. Mike’s worked for Cates Construction a long time. I don’t want to break anything up.”

Aidan’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t swallow. Mike was his right arm. Losing him would be a sad day. Yet there was no way he would stand in the way of a future Mike had always wanted and truly deserved. Mike would never stand on the mound and be cheered by a stadium of fans, but he could still be part of major league baseball. He’d have a second lease on life. Mike’s old wounds might finally heal.

Aidan sucked it up. “Talk to Mike,” he agreed. “Rylan did a good thing by bringing Mike to your attention. Mike would serve the Rogues well. I’m sure of it.”

“No hard feelings then?” asked Risk. “Mike wouldn’t be joining us until the training facility is built.”

“I appreciate your coming to me first,” said Aidan. “I don’t like to be blindsided.”

“Neither do I,” Risk said, “especially not when it comes to business. My wife, Jacy, is cute and quirky and knocks me off balance every single day. She brings me all the surprises I need in my life.”

Aidan understood that feeling. Jillian Mac did much the same to him. She made his life interesting.

Risk offered his hand, and Aidan shook it. “We’ll stay in touch. I’ll fly down on occasion to see how things are progressing.”

The two men walked back toward the infield.

Most of the Rogues now mixed with the Barefoot William players. Risk Kincaid singled out Mike Burke. The retired center fielder put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. Their exchange was quiet and private. Reserved. People were curious over their conversation, but no one interfered. Not even Psycho McMillan.

Once Risk had made his offer, Mike looked to Rylan. The two men stared at each other for a significant time. Ry raised one of his eyebrows in question. Mike’s expression gave nothing away. Coming to a decision, Mike nodded and smiled. Risk handed Mike his business card.

Aidan cut his gaze to the Rogues dugout. Psycho and Jill had retired to the bench. They sat close, looking chummy. Aidan’s chest squeezed when Psycho hugged her and Jill rested her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a long time. Aidan grew more and more uneasy. Wasn’t Psycho married? Jill had mentioned his wife and daughter. Then why did she kiss him on the cheek? Why did he take her hand?

Aidan returned to the home dugout. The heat of the day had beaten him down; he was in need of hydration. The iced cooler offered grape Gatorade or bottled water. He went with water. He’d finished off the bottle by the time Jillian Mac joined him.

The lady was full of surprises. She walked up to him, stood close. Grinned. “Congratulations on your win,” she said. “This was an amazing day.”

It had been, up until the moment he’d seen her with Psycho. “Decent,” he agreed.

She seemed to sense something was wrong. “Talk to me, Aidan.”

He had nothing to say. “Everything’s fine.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. I’m psychic, remember?”

How could he forget? He stared at her now, at her mussed hair and dirt-streaked chin. Her eyes were bright; her nose was sunburned. Her Rogues jersey had a tear in the hem where she’d dove for a ground ball. Psycho had run in from right field to make sure she was okay. She’d gotten up quickly and dusted herself off. Then given him a thumbs-up. Her jeans were loose fitting. Her sneakers were tied with red and blue laces. He liked looking at her.

Aidan wasn’t a man for public affection. However a quick kiss wouldn’t draw a lot of attention. Or so he hoped. He reached for her then, cupped her face with his hands. His kiss was as soft as her breath. He deepened it slowly. A nip to her bottom lip, a flick of his tongue to her upper. She bit him back, hard enough to arouse and make him sweat.

Sensations escalated. He wanted to feel her. All of her. He drew her flush against him. She rubbed her belly against his zipper. He nearly lost his mind.

He needed more, but he got less. The sound of someone entering the dugout snapped them apart. “Dude, get your mouth off Jillie Mac.” Psycho’s voice was deep and firm. Threatening. He’d gone from friendly on the field to formidable in the dugout. A muscle jerked along his jaw line.

Jill wasn’t intimidated. She remained close to Aidan. She went as far as to slip her arm about his waist. A bold move, Aidan thought, given Psycho’s dark expression.

“We were celebrating,” she informed the Rogue.

“With tongues?” he asked sharply.

“It was a friendly celebration,” said Jill.

“A bit too friendly, if you ask me.”

“No one’s asking you,” she huffed.

Psycho and Jill had a stare off. One Aidan didn’t understand. Neither gave an inch. What the hell was going on? Something, obviously. It apparently involved him. He wasn’t invisible. Enough was enough.

Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re consenting adults.” Which made them both blink. He eyed Psycho. “Do you have a problem with that?” he challenged. The man was a celebrity athlete, yet Aidan refused to give up his girl. He liked Jillian Mac.

“The feeling must be mutual since she kissed you back.” Still, Psycho frowned. “What are your intentions toward my sister?”

Sister? Holy shit!
Aidan was so taken aback, he had momentary brain freeze. “You’re related?” sounded lame.

“Guess she forgot to tell you.” Psycho laughed.

“You need to mind your own business,” said Jill.

“I could, but you know I won’t.”

“Try.” She glared at him.

Psycho gave it some thought. Eventually he shrugged. He then went on to deliver a message from the team’s owner. “James wants to speak with you and Carrie before he leaves for the airport. He’s waiting in his limo,” he told her.

Business called, and Jill responded. “I’ll be right there.”

Psycho gave her one last look. “Your niece misses you, by the way. Cammie wants you to meet her new stuffed dragon. She calls him Fire. He likes toasted marshmallows. Take a weekend off and visit us. We all miss you.”

Aidan felt Jill relax. She crossed to her brother and hugged him fiercely. “Love you, Cody.”

“Right back at you.” His gaze was on Aidan as he turned to leave. “Take care of her, contractor. I know where to find you.” He was gone.

“Wait here for me,” Jill requested of Aidan. “I can explain. I won’t be gone long.” And she hurried off to find James Lawless.

Jill was Psycho’s sister. A fact she’d forgotten to mention. Aidan eased down on the wooden bench; sat in disbelief, feeling frustrated. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but if their relationship progressed, Psycho could be his brother-in-law. His mind wouldn’t wrap around it. Not yet anyway.

Dune wandered into the dugout. “The crowd has thinned, and I’m gone, too,” he said. “My sweet wife tired herself on the sidelines, cheering for our team. Sophie yelled so hard she lost her voice.” He rolled his shoulders. “It was a good day, don’t you think?”

“I was proud of Mike.”

“So was Carrie,” said Dune. “She tried to reach him after the last out, but he was surrounded by players and fans. Then Rylan waylaid her.”

“Is Ry interested in her?”

“Who knows?” answered Dune. “Rylan has James Lawless’s permission to stay in town two extra days, so he can visit family. He’ll catch a commercial flight to Richmond Tuesday morning. The Rogues season opener is a week away. They play the Colonels. Ry faces his old team.”

“He’ll be fine.” Aidan had every confidence in his younger brother.

Dune grabbed two bottles of water for the road. “Ry’s headed to Shaye’s beach house. She’s opened the door to anyone who wants to stop by. Catch up with you later?”

“Most likely.” Or not. Much would depend on how long it took to straighten things out with Jillie Mac. Or Jillian McMillan, as he now knew her.

When speaking with Risk he’d been appreciative of the surprises Jill brought to his life. But this was one surprise too many. The woman confused the hell out of him. She’d once said her brother lived in Philadelphia and worked in sporting goods. That was definitely a stretch. He’d have preferred the truth.

The dust had settled on the field and the bleachers had been dismantled by the time Jill returned. The concession stands were now closed. The cleanup crew had emptied the last trash receptacle. The ballpark was deserted. The dinner hour drew the last fan home.