“What the hell are you doing?”
“Giving your not-really-a-cousin a shot at the big time.”
“Or a chance to get permanent facial lacerations.” Cella shrugged. “You say tomato . . .”
Ricky Lee waited for Toni to step on the elevator before following her in. He pressed the button for the floor where the team’s locker rooms were located.
“You spend a lot of time here, don’t you?” she asked him.
He nodded at Toni’s question. “Yep. My brother being one of the players gives me all sorts of access. Well, that and no one really asks me anything anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I just mean that I go where I need to and always make sure I look like I know where I’m going. People are less likely to bother you or question you as long as you appear to know where you’re going. It’s only when you wander around with your mouth open, staring up at the big buildings or trying to sort out office numbers, that people start wondering what the hell you’re doing. Thought it would only work here in the States, but it worked even when I was doing some work for the company in Japan, Italy, France.”
“Really? I’ve been to and sometimes lived in all those places with my family over the years, and I find that surprising. I mean, you’re just so . . . American.”
“Lord, I hope so. Being that I was born and reared here and all.” He chuckled as the elevator doors slid open. He waited for Toni to step out before he followed. “But I always looked like I knew where I was going. People may have watched me, especially in Japan. But no one ever questioned where I was going or stopped me from going there. It’s always worked to my benefit.”
“I’ll have to try it. I’m always getting stopped.”
They turned a corner and paused. Bert was just coming out of the locker room. He had a plain black duffel and a hockey bag for all his equipment.
They looked at each other.
“You know this is probably a setup, right?” Ricky asked her. “A test to see what you can handle.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Not sure what kind of test, though. Bert’s a real nice guy . . . for a bear.”
“He’s probably slipped onto a no-fly list or something and they want to see how I’d get past that.”
“You think you can?”
She grinned. “No problem. You sure you really want to tag along?”
“See you in action?” He returned her grin, enjoying himself immensely. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Paul was relaxing on his couch with his eldest son, Cooper, watching bad mid-afternoon television and enjoying every day, average, father-son bonding.
“So how did your concert go in front of the prime minister?”
“Pretty good. You know how I like playing at the Colosseum. I’d just need Rome burning to feel like Nero.” He paused. “Except with a piano. So I guess Mom’s more like Nero. How about you? What have you been up to while I was away?”
“I rebuilt the motor in my Mustang. Then Freddy freaked out about something and Toni stopped him from setting fire to the house—which was good—but then he took the motor and the rest of the car apart when we were all asleep. I haven’t had the heart to go back into the garage since. But I have the SUV, so I can still get around.”
They continued to watch bad afternoon TV until the arguing from down the hall became so intolerable both men sighed and stood up at the same time. Together, father and son headed toward the arguing, but Paul already guessed where it was coming from. The large ballroom of the town house. It was the perfect place for a dancer to practice or a sculptor to sculpt or a painter to paint or a scientist to set up a lab. The list went on and on. And, in Paul’s estimation, the room was large enough for all of his children to practice their art or music or anything else they wanted to work on. It was an enormous room!
Too bad none of his brilliant progeny wanted to share.
They’d almost reached the ballroom entrance when Cherise skulked around a corner. Poor thing. She skulked a lot. Kept to the shadows. A brilliant cellist since she was six, Cherise easily lost herself in her music. But when she wasn’t playing, she was an easily frightened, constantly shivering She-jackal. It broke Paul’s heart. His daughter needed to find her strength. Jackals weren’t big and had no pack to call their own, but they did have each other. They had family. That was their strength. That’s what had kept jackals going in the wild for centuries. So Paul needed to find out what would bring his daughter’s natural strength out. He’d done it before with Toni by putting her in charge of Coop and Cherise when she was thirteen. He’d done it with the intention of keeping an eye on all three but letting his daughter feel what it was like to be needed, to feel important. And she’d taken that responsibility and run with it, helping him and Jackie to raise the most amazing children. Still, it was time for her to get out on her own. To live her own life. His Toni deserved that.
“What’s up, Cherise?” he asked her.
“We need Toni.”
“No,” he said gently but firmly. “We don’t need Toni. We can handle this without her.”
“She should be home by now,” Cherise insisted. “We need Toni.”
Knowing one of Cherise’s “loops” when he heard one—her “loops” being when she kept saying the same thing over and over until she passed out—Paul just walked on ahead, Coop and Cherise behind him. He stepped into the ballroom, stopping right at the entrance as a pink ballet slipper flew by and collided with Kyle’s head. Tragically for Kyle, it was one of Oriana’s pointe shoes, and the hard tip clocked the kid right in the eye.
“You talentless hack!” Kyle screamed, one hand over his eye. “I should rip out your Achilles tendon with my teeth!”
“Try that, you little weasel, and I’m chopping off both your hands!”
Coop glanced at Paul. “Cherise is right . . . we need Toni.”
Toni stepped out of the limo she’d hired to transport her, Ricky, and Bert to the airport.
Newark was one of the airports she knew really well. Almost as well as LaGuardia and she had lots of connections here. She knew she could get a staff escort directly to the gate for Bert. And she might be allowed to go with him herself even though she didn’t have a ticket. She wasn’t sure, however, that she could get the wolf access, too. But she assumed he wouldn’t mind waiting.
“Uh . . . Toni?”
Toni turned and smiled at the wolf. “Yes?”
He motioned to the limo with a jerk of his head. That’s when Toni saw the claws sticking up through the roof of the vehicle. Toni rushed over and crouched down. Bert had his black bear claws dug into the roof and his powerful legs spread and braced on either side of the door.
“Bert?”
“I’m not going,” he panted out desperately. “I’m not going. I’m not going. I’m not going.”
Toni stood. “I think he’s frightened of flying.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“I don’t need sarcasm right now, country boy,” she snapped. Toni took a breath. “I’m going to see if I can talk him out.”
“Make it fast. After a while, even people in Jersey are gonna notice bear claws through a limo roof.”
Deciding not to comment on the wolf being Mr. Obvious, Toni leaned into the limo.
“Hey, Bert,” she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing, like when she had to talk Cherise down from the roof of the house where she’d gone after panicking because the FedEx guy asked her to sign for a package. “Hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”