Golden Trail (38 page)

“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
.”