Golden Trail

Chapter Thirteen My Kind of Partner

The security beep sounded and Layne, sitting at his desk in his office, turned to look at the monitor.

Colt was walking up the steps.

Layne glanced at his watch and clenched his jaw. He was late. He was supposed to go over to Rocky’s for a quick dinner before they went to the boys’ game. But that afternoon a bitter wind started to whip through the ‘burg and he needed to go home and get a sweater. To get to Rocky’s, he should have left ten minutes ago. To get home and then get to Rocky’s, he should have left twenty minutes ago.

He heard the front office door open and close and he reached out to the desk to pick up his cell. He started to flip it open when Colt’s tall frame filled the doorway and his thumb on his phone stopped when he saw Colt’s expression.

“Have a minute?” Colt asked.

“I didn’t until I saw your face,” Layne answered.

Colt walked in, sat down in one of the two chairs facing Layne’s desk and didn’t say a word or take his eyes from Layne.

“Give me a second, I gotta call Rocky. I’m already late for dinner,” Layne told him and Colt nodded.

Layne flipped open the phone and scrolled down to Raquel’s number as he watched Colt lean forward and tag a yellow legal pad from Layne’s desk then he nabbed a pen. He sat back and started writing on the pad while Layne put the phone to his ear.

It rang once then, “Hey Layne!”

Layne blinked and his eyes unfocused so much Colt was there but he’d disappeared.

She sounded excited and happy, excited and happy to hear from him.

It had been two days since Keira, pasta bake and Rocky spending the night in his bed.

After that, Rocky had put her shields up but it wasn’t the same game as she’d been playing. It was friendlier, more open but she was still on guard. He let her have that play and backed off, not because he intended actually to back off but because he wanted to soften her up, get her guard down, take her off-balance before he made his next play.

Not to mention, he had to wait until she was done with her fucking period.

They’d slept together both nights in his bed. Both nights she started with her back to him and both nights he’d woken with her pinning him to the bed. Each morning, Layne woke before Rocky, waited until she did and also waited while she slid carefully away and exited the bed. Layne never let on that he was awake before her and Rocky never spoke of it. He didn’t know if she knew he was awake and she didn’t share.

They’d also had dinner at his house both nights. The first night was Wednesday before the Youth Group meeting and when the boys were gone Rocky had been as jumpy as a cat waiting for Tripp and Jasper to get home. Luckily, Devin was there and entertained her with his own particular blend of cantankerous, flirtatious and hilarious. When the boys got home, though, Raquel interrogated them like she’d been trained by the CIA. Even so, they didn’t have much, it was a Church Youth Group and the boys were getting the lay of the land. But Jasper decided to go to the Saturday afternoon meeting as well before he left Tripp to it. They didn’t try to bag anything with a print. The other kids were surprised to see them there, the Layne boys weren’t Church Youth Group kind of guys, their turning up caused a minor sensation and his sons, rightly, didn’t make any rash moves.

The second night was Thursday and, after dinner, he made Rocky stretch out on the couch with him and watch TV while Tripp took one armchair, Devin the other and Jasper talked on the phone with Keira upstairs while he was supposed to be doing his homework. Rocky didn’t like it but she didn’t fight it, likely because Tripp and Devin were there. She fell asleep with her back to the couch, her cheek to his chest, her arm resting on his abs and her legs tangled with his. And just like eighteen years ago, when he moved after Letterman, she woke, groggy, and he helped her stumble up the stairs, she disappeared in the walk-in closet while he gave her time to change, came out wearing his tee, collapsed in bed and was out in seconds.

But for two days she didn’t give him an in and she didn’t let her guard down for him to knock her off-balance. She played the part but every word, look and step she executed with extreme caution.

And now she was greeting him, excited and happy.

“Hey sweetcheeks,” he greeted back.

“We’re having hot beef sandwiches for dinner,” she informed him and then finished, “with cheese.”

“Sounds good, Roc, but I’m gonna be late.”

There was silence then a disappointed, “Oh.”

Fuck. He liked Rocky excited and happy, he was not a big fan of Rocky disappointed.

“Colt came by, we need to talk,” he explained.

“Um… okay. Are you going to be long?” she asked and Colt moved, Layne looked at him and saw he was leaning forward.

Colt dropped the legal pad in front of Layne and the words, “Do you sweep?” were written on it.

Layne’s eyes went to Colt. He wasn’t talking about the floors. He was talking about bugs.

“Might be awhile,” Layne said to Rocky but his eyes never left Colt as he nodded his head.

Colt sat back and held Layne’s gaze.

Rocky hesitated then replied, “I’ll wrap them up. We’ll take them with us and eat on the road.”

“Perfect, baby,” he murmured. “Gotta go.”

“Okay, Layne. Tell Colt I said hi.”

“Will do, Roc, later.”

“Bye.”

He flipped his phone shut and Colt didn’t hesitate before saying, “It’s clean?”

“It’s clean,” Layne replied, moving the phone in his hand, sliding it between his fingers, end to end, then flipping it around and doing the same. “What’s up?”

“We got a situation,” Colt replied.

“That being?” Layne asked.

“Sean’s sister,” Colt told him and Layne’s brows went up.

“Sean’s sister?”

“She’s got a tumor on her pituitary gland,” Colt answered.

That sucked. Sean was a good man, a good cop, a newer detective in the department, he was young, his sister younger but it would suck that anyone was sick. That said, Colt didn’t need to give him this information and therefore Colt had another reason for giving him this information.

“You’re tellin’ me this because…?” Layne prompted.

“I’m tellin’ you this because it’s benign, it won’t kill her but it messes with her hormones. She’s gotta have replacement therapy her whole life or she’ll feel like shit. She got diagnosed, had neurosurgery where they got most of the tumor but before they got the tumor, it damaged the gland. That’s not unusual, Sean says the damn thing is the size of a pea and it’s not easy, maneuvering up there. They go through the freaking nose.” He shook his head then went on. “But the gland doesn’t work right and she’s not feelin’ better. She’s got two kids, an asswipe of a husband who bagged on her when she started to get sick, before she was even diagnosed. He’s gone and not comin’ back. Now they’re tellin’ her she has to have an injection, she has to take it every day and they say it’ll help her get back on her feet, feel more like herself. She can’t work but part-time, doesn’t have the energy, quality of life is shit, she needs this injection.”

“Okay, Colt, now you’re tellin’ me this because…?” Layne repeated.

“Because, with part-time work, her insurance won’t cover the entirety of the injection and it’s expensive.”

“You takin’ a collection?” Layne asked but he knew he wasn’t.

“They say sometimes it takes as long as six months for it to really kick in. She’s got a good job, pay’s all right, but part-time isn’t gonna cut it. Until she gets back on her feet, goes back to full-time, gets decent insurance, she’s gonna need help and that help’s gonna be expensive.”

Layne stared at Colt and Colt stared back.

Then Layne whispered, “He’s vulnerable.”

He meant Sean. Sean wanted his sister to feel better and her kids’ life to get better.

Which meant he needed money to do it, a lot of it, more than a cop made unless that cop was dirty.

“Someone’s recruiting,” Colt whispered back.

Colt knew about Rutledge. This didn’t surprise Layne, not much got by Colt and Rutledge’s slipshod police work would definitely not be lost on Colt.

Colt also knew about Layne and, more than likely, Merry. This also didn’t surprise Layne.

“I have to let that cool down,” Layne said quietly.

“I get you, that doesn’t mean it’s not still hot,” Colt replied. “You gotta know what you’re workin’ and who you’re up against.”

“You gonna let Sean go down?” Layne asked and this did surprise Layne. Those boys took care of their own, like they were blood brothers. And even if they didn’t, Colt, being Colt, wouldn’t let Sean go down.

“You aren’t the only one lookin’ into this,” Colt returned, he was ticked, not angry, irritated that Layne would even think that. “I understand why Merry didn’t go to the Captain because, bein’ how the Captain is, that’s not a great play and that’s the reason I’m not makin’ that play either. I’ve never seen this shit before but I’ve heard of it. That small of a Department, this small of a town, that shit leaks out, we’re all tarred with the same brush and Cap will fuck it up and it’ll be sure to leak. If we take care of this internal, private, that doesn’t happen. But it’s gotta be taken care of.”

“Colt, I was shot because of this shit,” Layne said.

“Yeah, Layne, I remember,” Colt returned.

“This is dangerous. You and Feb got a young son,” Layne reminded him.

“And you got two older ones,” Colt shot back.

Layne shook his head. “Let me work this.”

“My Department.”

“Colt, I’m tellin’ you, let me work this.”

“Sean’ll go down. This shit with his sister, it’s been goin’ on a long time. It’s not good, the whole family’s strugglin’.”

Layne stared at Colt and got an idea.

“Rocky,” he said.

Colt shook his head. “I gotta hope you know what you’re doin’, sendin’ her in there, her gettin’ close to –”

Colt had noticed that too.

“Not my choice,” Layne cut him off firmly. “She wants to do something, there’s no talking her out of it. I got her back, so does Merry. What you see with their little chats is as close as she’s gonna get. It makes her feel like she’s doin’ something and I’m givin’ her that. But that’s all she’s doin’.”

“Then what do you mean, ‘Rocky’?” Colt asked.

“What I mean is, she does those charity gigs. She helps set them up. I tell her about this, she’ll be all over it. Something else to focus on, not that piece of shit in the Department.”

Colt grinned. “Cop’s sister goin’ all out for a cop’s sister.”

Layne grinned back. “All in the family.”

“It’d be good around about this time, that dirt in the office gettin’ up in his face, Sean’s reminded about family.”

“Yeah, it’d be good,” Layne agreed.

Colt grin turned into a smile. “Hear she’s raised a fuckwad of cake.”

Layne had no idea. He knew she did them because he’d heard about it in passing. He didn’t know how successful she was at it. Though, this was Rocky, if she could talk the School Board into letting her kids listen to rock ‘n’ roll for a week in English Lit class, she could probably raise millions.

“I’ll talk to her, get her to talk to Sean,” Layne replied.

“Like that idea, Tanner,” Colt said and Layne nodded then Colt brows went up at the same time the ends of his lips tipped up and he asked, “What’s for dinner?”

“Hot beef sandwiches,” Layne answered then smiled, “with cheese.”

“I don’t even know what the fuck that is and it sounds good,” Colt returned.

It did and Rocky had cooked both nights at his house. She’d come to his place Wednesday night with enough grocery bags in her car to feed twelve for Thanksgiving dinner. The first night was roast chicken with stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. The second night was pork roast with fried potatoes and fresh baked rolls. Gabby wasn’t much of a cook, she hated doing it and her food tasted like she hated doing it. Devin had been single since his third wife took off with his baseball card collection fifteen years ago and he’d been that way because he was the kind of man who missed his baseball card collection more than his wife. Devin could pour a helluva mixed drink but he wouldn’t know a spatula from a frying pan. Jasper, Tripp and Devin were in ecstasy because Rocky loved to cook and she made roast chicken and pork taste like heaven on a plate.

Layne sure as fuck liked her food but he liked her cooking in his kitchen for him and his boys better.

And her being around meant the boys didn’t bitch when they had to clean up.

Yes, Layne was looking forward to hot beef sandwiches with cheese. But he was hoping that he’d have them with a Rocky, happy and excited to see him.

“I gotta get to Rocky, brother,” Layne told Colt.

Colt straightened from the chair saying, “Yeah. See you at the game?”

Layne palmed his phone and stood too, replying, “Yeah. You goin’ to an away game?”

Colt smiled at him. “Cal came over yesterday. Over what sounded to be a much-needed bourbon, he told me he was takin’ Keira and Heather because she’s fired up to support her new boyfriend while he plays ball and since she’s had three fender benders since she got her license, Vi isn’t letting her drive outside the city limits and Vi doesn’t trust Heather’s driving any more than Keirry’s. If Cal didn’t say he’d take her, he’d be forced to put duct tape on her mouth and tie her to a chair because she wouldn’t shut up about it. He didn’t think Vi would like that overly much so he said yes. I’m goin’ for moral support.”

That was about a quarter of the reason Colt was going. Colt was a ‘dogs fan too. He’d played for them years ago and was good enough to get a partial ride to Purdue. That team did good things for him and he remained loyal to the end.

But the reason Cal told Colt he’d said yes was total bullshit. Joe Callahan was a pushover for that girl. He’d kill for her, her sister and her mother, Layne knew this because Cal got that chance, he pulled the trigger and didn’t blink.

Layne walked Colt to the door and they shook hands and clapped each other on the arm before Colt took off. Then Layne closed down the office and left, setting the security alarms as he went. He drove home and lifted the garage door but didn’t pull inside then he walked through the garage and into the house.

Blondie greeted him and if his son’s dog could cross her legs, she would. So Layne unarmed the alarm and let her out back. Then he turned and jogged up the stairs, going direct to his drawers, he pulled out a thermal and then went to the walk-in closet, flipping on light switches as he went. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, throwing it without looking in the direction of the mound of dirty clothes. He pulled on the thermal, yanked a sweater off the built-in shelves in the closet and then tugged that on. He grabbed the scarf his mother bought him for Christmas last year and his leather jacket and headed back to the bedroom, putting them on, and stopped dead, staring at the bed.

It was made, not like Layne “made” it, yanking up the covers and letting them fall. The comforter was smoothed, the sheet and comforter folded over at the base of the pillows. The four pillows stacked neatly on top of each other, two by two.

Then he turned and looked at the long, double basin bathroom counter. Next to his toothbrush, Rocky’s pink and white one was in the holder Melody bought that was on Layne’s side of the sink. Also on Layne’s side of the sink was a makeup bag that had exploded. Tubes, bottles and tubs everywhere, applicator brushes, a stick of deodorant, a fancy bottle of perfume, a comb and a bunch of hairpins scattered around.

That morning, Layne had left before Rocky because he had to get to Indy to follow a man to work, a new case. The man didn’t go straight to work, as suspected. Rocky had brought a bag with her on Thursday night but Layne hadn’t paid much attention to it except the fact that he liked that she brought it. Clearly, Rocky had gotten ready at his place, standing at his basin doing her makeup and hair.

A memory tugged at him and Layne walked to the bed. He lifted the pillows on his side and found his pajamas folded neatly under it. Then he walked around the bed to Rocky’s side, lifted the pillows and found his tee that she’d been wearing folded under those. She’d done that, every morning, when they were living together.

Every morning.

He dropped the pillows and drew in breath through his nose, smelling the indistinct scent her perfume.

It was faint but it was still there.

Then he smiled to himself, turned out the lights, walked swiftly from the room and jogged down the stairs. He let Blondie in, secured the sliding glass door, gave Blondie a rubdown that lasted a lot less time than she liked and he set the alarm at the garage door and jogged to his SUV.

He swung in and drove to Rocky’s.

He was two steps from the landing to her door when the door was thrown open and she was out of it. He was one step from the landing when she turned to him, eyes bright, giving him the dimple. He stopped dead at the sight of her and she lifted both of her hands and slapped them, hard, on his chest just under his shoulders. So hard, he was glad he was wearing three layers, and she left her hands where they were.

“You will not believe what happened!” she cried.

On his step, eye to eye with her, the dimple appearing to be a permanent fixture, Layne smiled. “What?”

“I don’t even believe it!” she said on a near shout.

Layne put his hands to her hips and repeated, “Roc, what?”

Her head suddenly turned sharply to the side and then she looked back to him and exclaimed, “Oh! We have to go!”

Then she tore from his hands, turned so quickly her ponytail whipped across his face and flew into the apartment.

Layne followed her and closed the door, saying, “Rocky.”

But when he got into the apartment, she was already at the kitchen counter, pulling on a velvet jacket that was another berry color, this time blackberry. It fit her snug over her matching deep purple turtleneck. She buttoned the jacket with one hand and grabbed the handles of a bag that was on the counter.

“I’ve wrapped up the sandwiches, we’ll eat in the car. I’ve got drinks in the bag too.” She hefted up the bag and handed it to him, ordering, “You carry that.”

He took it and, considering he thought it contained sandwiches and drinks, its weight surprised him, his arm jerked down with it, she saw it and her shining eyes came to his.

“I made cookies. Chocolate chip. You get two. The rest are for Devin and the boys,” she announced then turned back to the counter, nabbed a scarf and her purse and started winding the scarf around her neck with one hand, the other one hooking the strap of her purse on her arm at the same time she started shooting around the apartment turning off lights.

“Sweetcheeks, this bag weighs a ton. How many cookies did you make?” Layne asked as he watched her move in her velvet jacket, tight dark gray cords and high-heeled black boots.

“Three dozen,” she answered, switching off the last light then heading toward the door, Layne following.

“Three dozen and I only get two?” Layne asked when she’d pulled open the door.

She whipped her head around again, her ponytail flying to land over her shoulder and curl around the scarf at her neck and she smiled up at him. “Okay, you can have three.”

He smiled down at her and muttered, “Thanks, baby.”

Her smile brightened even further, the dimple firmly in place then she exited the house, Layne moved out behind her, she turned and locked it and they headed down the stairs.

“All right, Roc, you wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Layne asked.

“In the car, we need to get going,” she answered, hoofing it to his Suburban.

Layne bleeped the locks, Rocky climbed in and he handed her the bag which she set between her legs on the floor as he shut her door. Layne rounded the back and when he swung in his side she was already buckled up but straining the belt because she was bent forward and digging in the bag. She pulled out what appeared to be a huge, oval, foil wrapped sandwich while Layne pulled out of the parking spot.

“You gonna talk?” he asked when they were out of the complex, on the road and she seemed intent on unwrapping the sandwich, a sandwich that, as she unwrapped it, subsequently filled the cab with a mouth-watering scent of fresh roast beef.

“Get this,” she started, handing him the sandwich that had its foil-over-greaseproof paper unwrapped enough for him to eat, wrapped enough so that he could eat it without the gargantuan portion of warm beef and melted cheese stuffed in a hoagie roll dripping all over his jeans. “I called my attorneys this morning because, well…” she paused, “I told you about Jarrod playing dirty but I didn’t tell you how but he cut me off, money-wise. Rent is due at the end of next week and things will be…” she paused again, “well, you know, I told you about it.”

“Yeah?” Layne prompted through a mouth full of succulent, warm roast beef and tangy melted cheese when she stopped speaking.

“So, I called my attorneys to see if anything was happening with that. They promised to call Jarrod’s attorneys and, this afternoon, I had a text to phone them back urgently.”

Layne had a feeling he knew where this was going. He’d been letting Devin do his work and hadn’t asked for a status report since that first night. Layne was the only man Devin had worked with in his career, post-CIA, so Devin was used to working alone, doing his own thing and not reporting in or asking for instructions. Therefore, Layne’s feeling was that Devin had done his own thing.

“Did you phone them back?” Layne asked Rocky and glanced her way.

She yanked open a bag of chips and set it between the two seats, the opening of the bag facing Layne.

“Oh yeah, I phoned them back,” she told him, going back to the bag and digging, she pulled out a can of cola and snapped it open. “And guess what?”

“What?” he asked as she put it in his cup holder.

“Fifty thousand dollars is what!” she announced then started digging in her bag again.

“Come again?” Layne asked.

She came up with a can of diet orange which she popped open while saying, “Fifty thousand dollars, Layne. He’s transferring it into my new account on Monday.”

Yep, Devin had done his own thing.

Layne smiled and said, “Good news, sweetcheeks.”

She placed her pop in her holder and went back to the bag. “No, Layne, not good news. Great news! I was freaking out!” she declared and Layne’s smile died. “My attorneys told me they called his attorneys and they phoned back in, like, thirty minutes. He offered ten K at first but my attorneys pushed it and got fifty!” He glanced at her to see she had her own sandwich in her hand and she sat back, wiping the fingers of her other hand on her brow and emitting an adorable yet annoying due to its cause, “Shoo!”

That fucking jackass. Ten K? He should give her fifty times that, he had it and she’d lived with his bullshit for ten years so she’d earned it. Not to mention, she’d lived a week with the worry she couldn’t make her rent.

Right before she took a huge bite of her sandwich, she said, “I wonder what happened.”

Layne knew what happened. Devin Glover and Natalie Ulrich happened.

“Maybe he isn’t so stupid,” Layne replied.

“Or maybe he’s moving on,” Rocky suggested through a mouth full of sandwich he knew she swallowed before she went on. “That would work for me, maybe he’ll settle and this will be done and I can get on with my life.”

Layne glanced at her before his eyes went back to the road, knowing, one way or the other, Dr. Jarrod Astley would settle so Rocky could get on with her life.

“Beginning of the end, baby,” he muttered.

“I hope so,” she replied.

Layne ate and drove and when he heard Rocky’s hand crinkling the chip bag, he spoke.

“Need you to think about doin’ somethin’ for me.”

“What?” she asked and he heard crunching chips.

“You know Sean O’Leary?”

“Of course,” she replied, reaching for her orange soda.

“His sister’s in a bad way.”

She took a slug, put the pop back and Layne heard the foil move on her sandwich as he peeled back more on his.

“I know,” she said softly. “Meghan’s had it tough. She was having symptoms for ages and no one knew what was going on. It took five years to diagnose her, can you believe that?”

Jesus, five years?

“There’s a treatment that they think can help,” Layne told her. “Colt stopped by, told me about it.” Layne took another bite of sandwich and said while chewing. “It’s expensive.”

“Most of them are,” Rocky murmured and he heard her moving foil.

Layne put his sandwich in his hand at the steering wheel and dug into the bag of chips. “She can’t afford it and I thought you could do your magic.”

He knew she’d turned to face him when she asked, “My magic?”

He shoved the chips in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, glanced at her and saw she was looking at him. “Yeah, baby, your charity magic. Raise some money for her. Help her out.”

He glanced back out the windshield and reached for his pop as she whispered, “Shit.”

Layne took a slug and put the soda back as he said, “Roc, your plate is full, you don’t have to –”

“It’s not that, it’s just that Halloween is just around the corner. A charity haunted house would be the bomb. We did that three years ago, ran it for the whole month of October and we raised a fortune. But now, I don’t have enough time to pull it off and, to rake in the dough, we need it to run awhile.” She paused for several long beats before she muttered, “I’ll have to think about this.”

Layne smiled before he ate the last bite of sandwich and asked, “So you’ll do it?”

He was balling the foil and grease paper in his fist when he saw her hand reach out in front of him to take it and he gave it to her as she said, “Yes, Layne, I’ll do it. Sean’s a neat guy and Meghan’s lovely. I’ll be happy to help.”

He reached out, curled his fingers around her upper thigh and squeezed. It was high enough that it was far more intimate than a squeeze on the knee, low enough not to be too forward.

“Thanks, baby,” he whispered.

She didn’t answer. Instead, surprising him, her fingers curled around his on her thigh, not to pry them away, but to give them a squeeze.

Then she let his hand go and she asked, “Do you want a cookie?”

“Yeah,” he answered and she immediately leaned forward and started digging in the bag again.

By the time they made it to the field at the high school two towns over where the game was, he had his three cookies, she’d had her three cookies and she’d cleared everything but the pops away. He parked and met her at the rear of the SUV, getting close and sliding his arm around her shoulders. She reciprocated, her arm gliding along his waist under his jacket, her hand curling in at the side. There were others heading toward the gate and Layne knew the ones from the ‘burg because they were watching Layne and Rocky walk to the field like they were two movie stars in the middle of filming a romantic comedy.

He paid and they made their way to the away team’s bleachers, Layne spying Colt and Cal standing at their normal spot at the fence. Keira was standing with them and with her was a red-haired, freckle-faced girl who could do Irish Spring commercials.

“Hey Ms. Merrick!” Keira shouted as they approached.

“Hey Keira, Heather,” Rocky greeted back, showing no reaction to being referred to by her maiden name then she smiled at Colt and Cal. “Hi guys.”

“Rocky,” Colt smiled at her and Cal smiled as well but didn’t verbalize his greeting, he just lifted his chin.

Rocky looked up into the stands and scanned. Layne’s eyes followed hers and he felt her move, looked down at her to see her waving at someone and he looked back into the bleachers to see Dave sitting with Spike and Ernie. He gave them a chin lift, got them in return and felt Rocky turn into him. He dipped his chin to look at her as she tipped her head back.

“You want coffee?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, I’m good.”

“I’m going to go say hi to Dad.”

“All right, sweetcheeks.”

She grinned at him and then, surprising him again, she got up on her toes and touched her mouth briefly to his. Apparently lip touches weren’t restricted in her contract. Or maybe they were allowed when the school activity was on another school’s property.

Good to know.

“Be back,” she whispered and then moved away.

He watched her strut through the crowd and kept watching her doing it as she climbed the bleachers and then scooted in to sit by her Dad. He also kept watching as she burrowed under her father’s arm until it moved around her shoulders and she stayed close, turned to her old man, smiling up at him.

“Gotta say, Tanner, your woman can strut,” Cal noted on a rumble and Layne tore his eyes from Rocky and looked at Cal.

“Rocky started strutting when she was three years old,” Colt remarked.

“She’d need to start then considering she’s perfected the art,” Cal returned.

“What are you talkin’ about, Joe?” Keira asked Cal, her head tipped back to look up at her stepfather and when she did he hooked her with an arm around her upper chest and pulled her in front of him, muttering through a grin, “Nothin’, girl.”

Layne chuckled and took his place at the fence. Jasper and Seth, the captains of the team, were out in the middle of the field for the coin toss. It was almost time to roll.

Then Layne stood in the bitter cold with Colt and Cal through the first quarter and two minutes into the second before he was done standing with Colt and Cal in the bitter cold. The ‘dogs were holding their own, zero to zero, this being the score because their defense kicked ass but their offense sucked.

Layne being done meant, when the ‘dogs tried and failed to kick a desperate-to-get-on-the-board field goal that was well beyond the capabilities of their sophomore kicker, who was good, but who wasn’t playing for the Colts, and the ball was changing sides, Layne turned and looked up at Rocky to see she was still cuddled into her Dad. He put his tongue to his teeth and gave a loud, sharp whistle. Raquel’s eyes went from the field to him and he lifted his hand and crooked a finger at her.

It was night and she wasn’t exactly close but the field was bright and he could see her roll her eyes. She gave her father a peck on the cheek, reached out to squeeze Spike and Ernie’s hands then she scooted back along the front of the other spectators to the aisle and made her way down to him.

“You called?” she asked when she got to him.

He hooked her with an arm around her neck, turned her, pulled her back to his front and wrapped his arm around her upper chest, his other arm around her ribs. Positioning her in front of him at the fence, he dipped his head and, in her ear, whispered, “I’m cold, sweetcheeks. Need somethin’ to keep me warm.”

Her body had grown stiff when he’d taken hold of her and stayed that way for three seconds then she relaxed on an annoyed sigh but both her hands came up to wrap around his forearm at her chest before she muttered, “At your service.”

Layne lifted his head, grinned and turned his eyes to the field.

He kept her close the rest of the quarter and it happened thirty seconds to half-time.

The ‘dogs were fifteen yards out from their goal line, it was fourth down and for some asinine reason, Cosgrove kept his kicker on the bench and called a passing play. All the eligible receivers scrambled, Jasper got open but the QB ignored him and threw toward Cosgrove’s heavily defended son in the end zone. This time, Seth Cosgrove didn’t intentionally blow the play. He went all out, it was plain to see, but with three defenders, he was no match for it and was intercepted. Seth didn’t hesitate, he bore down on the opposing player, deflected a block and made a diving tackle, wrapping his arms around the player’s legs, taking him down on the five yard line.

Visibly and justifiably angry, Seth tore his chin guard down and ripped off his helmet as he jogged to the sidelines. Five feet into the field, his father was there to greet him and he greeted him with a vicious, open-palmed tag to the side of the head, making his boy lurch two steps to the side.

“What the fuck was that?” Cosgrove shouted, bearing down on him again and then he brought both hands up in fists and sent them crashing down on his son’s shoulder pads so hard, the boy’s knees buckled and he almost went down, his father still shouting, “Hunh? Seth? What the fuck was that!” Another crash, this one more brutal, the sound of his fists hitting the pads cracking through the suddenly silent night, then came another.

Rocky had frozen in his arms but Layne didn’t hesitate. He set her aside, put two hands on the top of the chain link fence and pushed himself up, throwing his legs over. Colt was doing the same as Cal followed but Layne’s gaze was riveted to the Coach and his boy as Cosgrove landed another open-palmed blow to the side of his son’s head, sending Seth stumbling down on a knee.

Jasper was closer and got there before Layne, Cal and Colt even though they were all three sprinting.

“Coach!” Jasper yelled, using both his hands to wrap around Cosgrove’s raised arm and Cosgrove turned, hard, yanking back his arm and he caught Jasper in the chest with his elbow causing Jasper to stagger back into two other players and another coach, all who were close.

“Sit your ass down, Layne!” Cosgrove bellowed at Jasper as Layne, Colt and Cal hit the scene then Cosgrove’s eyes shot to Layne. “Parents off the field!”

“Locker room,” Layne growled, Cosgrove’s face went pale when he caught the look on Layne’s but then his chest puffed out as an official jogged up.

“You can’t call me out in the middle of a fuckin’ game!” Cosgrove roared as the whistle blew.

“Unsportsmanlike conduct,” the ref shouted, his arms straight out, palms down, his shout scratchy because he was pissed. “Fifteen yards!” Then he leaned into Cosgrove, stuck a pointed finger in his face and clipped, “Get a handle on it, Cosgrove, or you’re off the field and I’m only lettin’ you stay on it ‘cause this is the last thirty seconds of your last game. Do not even think of comin’ back after half-time.” He leaned in further and hissed, “And by God, you better brace man, because after that shit, I’ll see to it you’re suspended permanently.”

“Locker room,” Colt repeated Layne’s words and the referee and Cosgrove’s eyes went to Colt. “Hand off to Fullerton and get your ass off the field.” Cosgrove opened his mouth to speak and Colt leaned in and warned, “You got one second, man, before you’re in cuffs.”

Cosgrove took that second to save face and glare at Colt before he yelled, “Fullerton!” tore his whistle from around his neck and tossed it to one of the Assistant Coaches. Then without further hesitation, head down, he started to jog off the field.

When he did, both sets of bleachers burst out in a loud standing ovation that rocked the field but Layne went to Seth who was still down on a knee, his face pale, his eyes on his departing father.

Layne reached a hand to him and called, “Seth.”

Seth’s eyes sliced to him then down to Layne’s hand, he put his gloved hand in Layne’s and Layne hauled him up.

“Head back in the game, man, but, after, you need a place to crash, you got one,” Layne said quietly, wrapped his fingers around Seth’s neck, gave him a squeeze with a tug then turned, gave Jasper a head jerk indicating Seth, Jas jerked his chin up in return, moved toward Seth and Layne jogged back to the fence. He put his hands to it and cleared it.

Rocky was there within seconds, her hands at his abs, she moved in close.

“Sweetheart?” she whispered and his eyes tipped to hers.

“It’s okay,” Layne told her, curling the fingers of both his hands around her neck.

“Seth?” she asked.

“It’s okay, Roc, he’ll be okay.”

“Jasper?”

“It’s all good, baby,” Layne whispered.

Her eyes searched his then she leaned into him and put her forehead to his chest. One of his hands moved to the back of her neck and gave her a squeeze as his eyes went to find both his sons on the field.

They moved the ball fifteen yards and play resumed.

Even with the penalty, the opposing team didn’t manage to translate their turnover to points on the board by half-time.

The second half Layne watched with Rocky at his side, snuggled into him with both arms around his middle, her head most of the time resting on his shoulder. With Fullerton calling the plays, Jasper seeing the ball and Tripp taking turns with Seth, the ‘dogs won twenty-one to three.

With a variety of other parents, fans, Colt, Cal, Keira, Heather, Dave, Spike, Ernie and Rocky, Layne waited after the game to watch the boys load up in the bus.

When they filed out, Cosgrove was not among them.

When his boys came into view, Layne saw this time Tripp was crowding Jasper and Jasper was crowding Seth. His sons were supposed to go to their mother’s that night after pizza on the town, it was the beginning of her week. But Jasper had heard Layne’s invitation and he’d talk to Seth about taking Layne up on it if he got the vibe that Seth wouldn’t be safe at home. Therefore, Layne wondered where he’d put another body in his house. He should have bought one of the four bedroom floorplans.

When Tripp saw him, he waved, though he was clearly learning cool, his wave was a flick of a hand. Jasper noticed his brother and his eyes came to Layne and, king of cool, he jerked up his chin but no more except another chin jerk to Keira before they hustled into the bus.

“Is he going to be okay, Mr. Layne?” He heard Keira ask and his eyes dropped to see she was staring at the bus looking worried.

“Yeah, Keira, he’ll be fine,” Layne answered, she looked up at him and she didn’t seem any less worried.

So she turned to Cal. “Joe, if Jasper isn’t up to pizza, can he come over to our house and watch a movie?”

Proving Layne’s earlier theory correct, Cal didn’t hesitate to reply, “Sure, honey.”

Keira leaned into him and whispered, “Thanks,” as her eyes went back to the bus, Cal’s arm curled around her shoulders and he pulled her closer.

“You good?” Cal asked him and Layne nodded.

He was good because Rocky was leaned into him the same way and had been since they took their places outside the locker rooms. This meant he could deal even though his sons had survived another game time drama and Gabby was standing alone twenty feet away, no Stew, and when she wasn’t craning her neck to look for her boys, she was staring at Layne and Rocky. Layne felt this was progress considering she was staring and not glaring.

Layne forced his mind off Gabrielle and his eyes went to Colt. “Roc’s gonna see what she can do for Meghan.”

Colt nodded and he looked at Rocky. “Cool, Rocky, thanks. Sean will appreciate that.”

She smiled up at him but didn’t reply and it was then that Layne realized that the game was over, the latest drama was over, his kids were likely gone for the night, Rocky was likely done with her period and therefore it was time to go home.

“We’re outta here,” Layne mumbled and led Rocky away.

They got a variety of good-byes and Layne a clap on the shoulder from Dave as they stopped at him so Rocky could give her Dad’s cheek a kiss and then they walked away.

They were nearing the Suburban when Layne heard the pipes. His head turned and he saw Ryker sitting a Harley, bald head open to the elements, leather biker jacket undoubtedly covering another tank top. When Layne’s eyes hit him, the pipes roared for a second which Layne decided was Ryker’s way of telling him he wanted a chat.

Layne stopped Rocky and dug into his pocket for the keys.

He handed them to her and ordered, “Open it up and climb in, honey. You’re cold, turn her on. Yeah? I’ll be right back.” Her eyes shot up to him and she opened her mouth to speak but he got there before she did. “Not now, sweetcheeks. That’s Ryker on the bike. Just get in the truck.”

She looked over her shoulder at Ryker, back at him, nodded and then again got on her toes to give him a mouth touch before she swiftly walked to the SUV.

Layne walked to the bike.

He stopped at Ryker’s side noticing Ryker’s eyes had followed Rocky and not Layne.

“Eyes on me,” Layne demanded, keeping his voice as low as he could and still be heard over the pipes and Ryker looked at him.

“That your woman?” he asked.

“Yep,” Layne answered.

“Jesus, sport, traded up, didn’t you?” His eyes slid back to Layne’s truck before they came again to Layne. “Way up.”

Layne didn’t have time for this. Rocky was feeling affectionate and her guard was down. He had other, better things to do.

“You got somethin’ for me?” Layne prompted.

“Jumped the fence,” Ryker stated, talking at the same time studying Layne. “Didn’t hesitate, he clipped his boy and you were over the fence. Saw your face as you sprinted up to that mess, thought you were gonna lay that motherfucker out.” He gave Layne a head-to-toe to head again and went on. “That look on your face, sport, figure I underestimated you.”

“Did you call me over to flatter me, Ryker? ‘Cause, as you can see, I got another date and she’s prettier than you,” Layne told him and Ryker grinned.

“In a hurry?” Ryker asked, Layne didn’t respond so Ryker’s grin got bigger and uglier. “I’d be in a hurry, that piece was in my truck waitin’ on me to take her home.”

Layne turned to leave, muttering, “A waste of my fuckin’ time.”

“Sport,” Ryker called, Layne looked at him and Ryker went on. “Action. Stew. Tonight.”

Fuck. That was what Layne was worried he’d say.

“When?”

“Meet me at the bar at eleven o’clock.”

Shit. That would give him just enough time to drop Rocky off, grab his camera and get to the bar and he’d still be late.

“Just tell me when and where. I’ll take care of it.”

“Comin’ with,” Ryker stated.

“No, you aren’t. I work alone.”

“This ain’t a one man deal.”

“Since when?”

“Since Stew’s workin’ with a crew tonight, bro, and, you get tagged, you’ll need backup. Colt can’t back you on this without makin’ a lotta arrests and where’s that gonna get your ex?”

Fuck! This was not getting any better.

“I can take care of myself,” Layne told Ryker.

“’Spect you can, but I know this crew, the smarter move would be to go in with backup.” Layne knew he was right, in any uncertain situation it was smarter to go in with backup. That didn’t mean he wanted Ryker to be that backup. “You got a permit to carry concealed or you don’t, don’t give a fuck, you come carryin’, yeah?” Ryker continued.

“I can see you’re eager to pop someone’s cherry, Ryker, so I hate to tell you this isn’t my first time.”

Ryker grinned again. “Bummed bro.”

“Can you explain why you’re all of a sudden my BFF?” Layne asked, not about to walk into the bar he met Ryker in at eleven o’clock at night to meet Ryker, a guy he did not know, he did not trust and he wasn’t sure he liked.

“Thought you were gonna lay that motherfucker out,” was Ryker’s explanation.

Layne didn’t feel that was enough of an explanation so he prompted, “And?”

“And that motherfucker thought you were gonna lay him out too.”

Layne crossed his arms on his chest and repeated, “And?”

Ryker watched him a full five beats then leaned in. “And I know, by that look on your face, you didn’t have two bleachers full of people, kids on two football teams, coaches, refs and your woman lookin’ on, you woulda laid that motherfucker out, no hesitation, no holdin’ back. That guy would be breathin’ through a tube just about now. Am I right?”

He was right.

Layne stayed silent.

“Not even your kid this time,” Ryker went on.

Layne remained silent.

“You got control and you understand my vision of justice,” he leaned back and smiled his ugly smile, “my kind of partner.”

“Great,” Layne muttered and Ryker added an ugly laugh to his ugly smile.

Then he said, “Eleven,” and shot off on his bike.

Layne watched him go before he whispered, “Fuck.”