His Brother's Keeper

“What’s going on?” Gabe asked Conrad, who was standing near the curb.

“Dave Scott chased us out for not having some forms. Then he tells us we’re getting kicked out for good. What the hell did you say to the principal?”

“We’re still talking,” he said, angry that the vice principal had gotten involved prematurely. “Damn. He had no business saying that.”

Alex noticed Gabe and came over. “We’re gonna be on the news, Coach. I called that TV 6 On Your Side hotline.” He looked so proud Gabe didn’t have the heart to tell him that unless this turned into a drive-by or a drug bust, he doubted a reporter would show.

“So what’s the story on this?” he asked Alex. Watching his boys march, their voices loud, strides firm, faces determined, he got a tight feeling in his chest. They were standing up for what they believed in. They weren’t beaten down. If they could stay that way long enough to make good lives for themselves, Gabe would be happy.

“We have a right to the gym, so I got the idea to protest.”

“It’s the principal’s call. We don’t have a lease. But I’m impressed with what you got going here.” He noticed Devin fidgeting near the door. “Devin! Get in there with a sign.” Damn, that kid needed to nut up.

Victor started a new chant. “Strike back for STRIKE… On strike for STRIKE… Strike back for STRIKE…” The fading afternoon sun glinted off the windows, making the signs flash golden. Cars driving by honked their support, hip-hop blaring from open windows.

Smalls Griggs ran up to the group carrying a case of water bottles and bags of tortilla chips Feliz Mercado had donated to their cause.

The kids broke for snacks until a cop car pulled up. Then they picked up their protest signs and started marching again.

A female officer stepped out, face stern. “Who’s in charge here?”

“Gabe Cassidy. I coach these boys. They’re protesting the loss of their gym.” He figured she was mentally skimming statutes for possible violations, so he jumped in. “This is legal, since they’re not disrupting traffic or interfering with commerce. And a permit is not required.” This kind of deal was why he’d wanted to become a lawyer—to defend people who got mowed down or tossed aside, work toward fair play and justice.

He’d been naive.

She stared at him, deciding if he was being a smart-ass.

He had to smooth that. “If it helps, I’ve got the number to the principal’s office.” He wondered why Felicity wasn’t already out here having a fit.

Seeing that he wasn’t challenging her authority, the cop relaxed, took the number and went to her cruiser. When she returned, she told him the principal was on her way from the district office, and asked him to keep a lid on things until she returned from a dispatch call.

“Aren’t we getting arrested?” Alex asked him as the cop drove off.

“You’re already in the system, Alex. You don’t want juvenile hall.” Robert’s stint there had sunk him. That and Cici abandoning him. That had broken him in two. And what was her excuse? She moved. They don’t write letters in Flagstaff? Use phones?

“But it’s publicity. We need publicity.”

“Keep your nose clean. I’m not kidding, Alex.”

A few minutes later, a white van with the district logo on the door pulled up and Felicity jumped down from the driver’s seat. She headed over, her mouth an angry line. “I got pulled out of a district meeting to take a police call. You organized this?”

“Just got here myself. This is on your guy. Dave told the kids they were being evicted, so they got understandably upset.”

“I did not authorize him to do that. I asked him to call the district to find out if the waivers you’re having the kids sign would suffice.”

“Hell, no, we won’t go!” was the current chant.

Tyrell, from North Central, waved his sign: STRIKE a Blow for STRIKE. Beside him Devin waved a piece of notebook paper that said Defend Our Right to Fight. The kid had a way with words, at least.

“This is not good,” Felicity said. She was maintaining her cool, but was clearly flipped out. Maybe he had some leverage here.

“It’s about to get worse. The TV 6 investigative team should be here any minute. I believe the police will be back, too.”

Felicity’s eyes went wide, but she kept her voice calm. “You need to stop this right now.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Come on. You can’t control these boys?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t. Aren’t you impressed with their initiative? This is democracy in action. Don’t you teach kids to stand up for their rights? Isn’t that a lesson these poor barrio kids need to learn?”

“You think sarcasm helps?”

“Probably not,” he said. “Couldn’t resist.”

Anger made her eyes flash in the fading light. He doubted she’d appreciate him telling her she looked pretty when she was pissed.

She glanced over his shoulder. “Damn it.”

He turned to see a TV 6 van turning the corner. “Looks like the media circus is about to raise a tent.”

“You’re an ass, you know that?”

“No doubt.” He fought a grin.

“What do you want, Gabe?”

“What the kids want. The gym back.”

She glared at him, then glanced nervously past him.

“Getting closer?”

“All right. You can stay four weeks, but you’ll have to split the space with my after-school program, fifty-fifty.”

He considered that. They could condense the equipment, he supposed. Clear out a few mats. “Make it eight weeks and then we negotiate.”

She glared at him. “This is not over.” She went to the gym entrance. “Attention, please,” she said. The boys stopped marching and looked her way.

“I need to speak to your leader.”

Silence. They glanced at each other, not sure who to name.

“Okay, who called the TV station?”

“I did,” Alex said.

“Then it’s you. The rest of you go in and take your signs with you. Alex and I will finalize an agreement on your behalf.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open for them. The boys ran into the gym yelling in triumph.

Alex stared at Felicity, a look of mild awe on his face. Good God. He had a crush on her. Gabe hoped to hell the kid wouldn’t fold at her first demand.

“Your coach and I agreed that we’ll keep the gym open for eight weeks, Alex, but only if you and I can keep the protest out of the news.”

“But the TV people are already here.”

“That won’t matter if you tell them we’ve worked out our differences.”

“But I want to explain about our rights and fighting for them and all.”

“If you want your gym back, you need to shut down the story. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Shit.” Alex cringed over the swearword. “Sorry.”

They all watched as a guy in a golf shirt with the station’s logo began unloading a camera from the back of the SUV.

“Do we have a deal?” Felicity held out her hand, looking at him steadily.

“I wanted to be on TV so bad.”

“When you’re a leader you have to look out for the group’s interests, not just your own.”

Alex nodded and squared his shoulders, as if taking on a heavy burden. He shook her hand.

“Great. Let’s go straighten this out.” She looked over her shoulder at Gabe. “After this, we need to talk.”

He watched her walk away, her hand on Alex’s shoulder. She wore another designer business suit, this one pale yellow, tailored to fit every dip and swell of her figure. She looked fresh for this late in the day. He could watch her hair float around her head for hours. Not to mention her hips, the way they swayed. And those legs, striding fast on swanky heels. For the first time, he saw why women got obsessed with shoes. The ones she had on made her legs look great. Mm-mm-mm.

She reminded him of an actress. Who? Cameron Diaz. Yeah, in her early films. No doubt men tried to take care of Felicity, though he’d bet she shut them down right quick. She was soft, but steely. The girl next door with a shotgun under her bed she could strip and clean blindfolded.

He’d bet she got underestimated a lot.

He’d be sure not to.

CHAPTER THREE

AT©SIX©O’CLOCK, Gabe headed for Felicity’s office, hoping to talk her out of however pissy she still was from the afternoon’s incident.

The media situation turned out fine. The guy had been sent only to get footage of the protest. With nothing to shoot, he got into his truck and drove off, no problem.

Fired up by the win, his boys had been maniacs in the gym, fighting with total focus, every strike dead center, every kick razor sharp, happily doing all the reps he demanded and then some.

They would wipe the mats with their opponents at the upcoming tournament. Damn, he loved these kids. He would do what he had to do to keep coaching them. Step one was talking this through with Felicity.

He’d changed into a fresh T-shirt—one with sleeves so he’d look more civilized. He ran his fingers through his hair to clear the tangles. He needed a cut, but he was resisting his sisters’ offers to practice on him. He had no interest in having his initials shaved into his hair.

Through Felicity’s open door, he saw she stood on a table against the back wall trying to push up a window. She’d taken off her jacket and was stretched up on tiptoes, poised and graceful as a dancer. He made himself stop staring and cleared his throat.

She turned at the sound. “The window’s jammed.”

He climbed onto the table beside her, inches away. Her face was pink from the heat and there were dots of perspiration on her lips, which still held some gloss. She fanned her face, sending him waves of sweet-candy scent. “It gets stuffy in here.”

He braced his shoulder under the frame and shoved. With a wrenching shriek, the wood broke free and shot upward.

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a blast of those big blue eyes. Each one had a silver starburst in the middle. They held him in place, made him go so still he could hear his own heartbeat, possibly hers, too.

Now the window let in the smells of spring flowers and freshly mowed grass. Before Robert was killed, Gabe had loved this season. Now the new smells made him feel the old loss. He jumped off the table and offered Felicity a hand down.

She bent her knees to one side for modesty’s sake, making him fleetingly curious about her underwear. Would she go sexy, like his ex-girlfriend Adelia, who’d loved elaborate beaded silk numbers?

Simple and sensible were more her style, he’d bet. Maybe a little lace as a tease. He preferred sheer and easy to rip off. Or naked. Naked was the best underwear of all.

“Gabe?” Felicity looked at him strangely.

“Yeah?” He let go of her hand, which he’d held too long, and backed up so she could get to her desk.

FELICITY’S©PALM©RETAINED the warmth of Gabe’s grip even after he let go. He’d definitely been thinking about her that way. She’d felt a surge of unwelcome lust. There was no accounting for chemistry, she guessed.

On the other hand, Gabe was dead-on hot. Sexual confidence poured off him like body heat. With his dramatic features, long, tousled hair and that diamond stud in one ear, all he needed was a ruffled shirt to pass for a pirate.

Pirates were so sexy—dangerous and fierce, but also charming. When he smiled—and admittedly she’d only seen him do it when he’d thought he’d gotten the best of her at the protest—his features softened and his eyes lightened from espresso to dark caramel.

He was the classic bad boy. So not her thing. Though she wasn’t sure she had a thing. She didn’t seem to have much, well, passion, when it came to men. Or at least the men she’d dated so far.

Right now she had no time for a friction-means-fire moment. She had a major problem and she needed Gabe’s cooperation to solve it.

The humiliation of the police call in the middle of the district meeting was not the worst news she’d had that afternoon. Not even close.

Tom Brown had pulled her aside to tell her that due to a budget shortfall, the bulk of the funds he’d promised for her Enriched Learning System had been “redirected” to more crucial district needs.

In short, she’d been screwed.

She’d begun to suspect April might be right about the conspiracy against Discovery. During the meeting Felicity had picked up hostility toward the alternative schools and caught definite eye rolls during her report. Some important people expected her to fail—maybe even wanted her to.

Now she was frustrated and outraged and scared. She’d known she had an uphill battle. But she hadn’t expected to have someone dynamite the ground out from under her.

She’d held a faculty meeting as soon as school was dismissed that first day to lay out the tenets of her program. She’d watched their faces go from resistant to curious to wary to almost hopeful. When she’d told them Tom had promised district funds to implement it, their faces had plain lit up.

But that turned out to be a lie. When her staff found out, they would think her a blowhard, a liar, a fool or all three. Felicity would seem weak, maybe even her uncle’s flunky, part of the plot to sink the school.

She had to turn this around. She saw a way through Gabe. All she had to do was get him to agree.

“So, are we good?” Gabe asked, bracing his hip against her desk, arms folded. He was acting casual, but he homed in, assessing her for weak spots, like an opponent in his boxing ring. “We ducked the news like you wanted.”

She decided to emphasize her losses, make him feel guilty. “But not the police. Now my bosses think I had to quell a riot.”

“The kids didn’t call the cops.”

“No. They just created the disturbance that drew them.”

“Anyway, you handled that well. You took the boys seriously. You talked to Alex with respect. That was good for them.”

“You think so? And what was the lesson? That blackmail works? Threaten media exposure and the principal will fold?” She felt angry all over again. “We both know what happened. You played me and hijacked half my Institute space for eight entire weeks.”

“True.” He had the decency to look sheepish.

“That said, I need to clarify some things.” She’d start with the easy part. “First, I arranged with the district to use group liability coverage until you get the forms from each kid. But we do need the forms.”

“Great. I appreciate that. You’ll get them.” He seemed startled by her concession.

“Also, I’ll need my half of the room cleared out by next Wednesday, when I want to start the Institute.”

“We can give you some space, but—”

“Fifty-fifty. We agreed. Also, you’ll need to keep the noise down so we’ll be able to hold discussions and run workshops.”

“We’re training. We hit bags and toss tires. It’s loud.” He frowned, shifting his weight, not happy about what she was saying.

“Make an effort.”

He just looked at her. “Is that it?”

“There’s one more thing.” She took a deep breath before delivering the blow. “I’m going to need you to pay rent.”

“Rent? What the hell?” He pushed to his feet, as if braced for battle.

“Don’t loom over me, please. Sit down so we can discuss this.”

He stalked around the desk and dropped into the chair. “Rent was not part of the deal.”

“It is now. I lost my funding. Your rent will help cover it.” It would get her through the end of the year, she hoped, if she was brutally frugal. After that, she had no idea what she’d do. Hope for a budget boost? A grant? A charity? A miracle?

“How much?” he said through gritted teeth.

“We can be reasonable. Five dollars a square foot is well below current rates. With you using five hundred square feet, that’s $2,500 a month.”

“You’re crazy.”

“You charge fees, don’t you?”

“The kids pay fifty a month when they can. The full rate is one hundred and fifty. I cover the rest as scholarships.” He glared at her. “You’re reneging on our deal.”

She held his gaze. “You extorted that deal from me and you know it. Circumstances changed, so the deal has to change.”

“I can’t pay rent.” He paused, staring at her. “But then, you knew that, didn’t you?” Fury roiled in his eyes, like dark water in a storm. “You want us out. I get it.”

“You can stay if you pay.”

“You always get what you want, don’t you? No matter what it takes or who it hurts. Well played, Cici.”

“What does that mean?” But she knew. He meant Robert—that she’d used him, left him in jail and run for the hills. Her face burned. She’d been a scared, angry kid. She’d gone along with Robert, not dragged him into trouble. And when her mother got a job, she’d had to leave. And her mother—

She stopped her awful thoughts. “No matter what you think about me, Gabe, I’m doing what’s best for the kids.”

“Save your speeches for the PTO or the press or whatever politician you need to snow.”

She could tell he wanted to let her have it, tell her exactly what he thought of her, then and now. His fists were clenched, his jaw was working and his breathing was ragged. But he only said, “You win. We’ll be gone as soon as I find a place.” He turned and left.

She stood, as if to call him back, but her throat was tight and she was breathing as though she’d run ten miles. Where did he get off acting so self-righteous? She’d made a reasonable offer. He was supposed to bargain with her, not give in and stalk out.

She sank into her chair, irate and hurt. He’d insulted her integrity and accused her of exploiting Robert in one vicious sentence. He was an angry man with a chip on his shoulder so broad you could balance a tray of drinks on it.

A drink was what she wanted right now, but that would be a mistake. She always stayed in control. That was the only way to get by. That and being flexible. She knew how to roll with the punches, adapt and move on.

Not Gabe. For Gabe, life was black or white, yes or no—make that yes or hell no. Gabe was a brick wall. Under pressure, he would crack and fall, while she bent and shifted and found another way. He was so wrong.

So wrong.

She had loved Robert. What happened had devastated her. She’d locked down emotionally after that, gone numb. She hadn’t had a single boyfriend in high school. Only a few dates in college, for that matter. Truth be told, she still missed him. He showed up in dreams. She remembered him on his birthday, on the date they first kissed and on the day he died. Tomorrow, it would be fifteen years since he was buried.

She tipped the wave box, wanting the gentle waves to soothe her, but she was trembling, so the waves were as jerky and jagged as her nerves.

Underlying everything was her blasted attraction for Gabe. Anger and lust both fired the blood, she supposed.

When he stared at her, untapped feelings stirred and flared. He made her think about sex. He made her long for sex.

How would he be in bed? Rough and demanding? Tender and generous? Both, depending on what she needed? And he would know because he would read her like a book and—

Oh, for heaven’s sake. Still shaking and upset, she opened the Play-Doh and began to knead and roll the bright green clay to calm down, to help her think, to do some creative problem solving.

No way did Gabe want to move, but he’d be too proud to come back. She’d have to make the first move—ask for less money, though the less she got, the less she could offer her students.

She looked at her hand and realized she’d squeezed so hard, the dough had squirted from between her fingers like the spikes of some martial-arts weapon. Not good. She needed to make peace, not war.

GABE©STEPPED©OUT©OF©HIS©VAN in front of Discovery at noon the next day, muscle-sore from the landscaping job he’d left early to try to work out a deal with Felicity. His friend Carl was happy to hire him whenever Gabe could do it. He’d need more work to pay the rent she was extorting from him. He clenched his jaw.

Settle down. Be nice. This was for his boys.

He regretted bringing up the way she’d used Robert, but the rent she’d asked was insane and she’d known it. Clearly, she wanted him out.

But he needed to stay. Even on the west side, he’d have to pay at least a grand a month, and he’d lose half his kids for lack of transportation.

He could manage a thousand, he figured, if he scrimped, bought no equipment, worked more for Carl and took double shifts with the cab he shared. He hoped to hell he wouldn’t have to tap into the scholarship cash.

Outrage surged in a hot wave. So she’d lost funds for her stupid homework club. That didn’t justify breaking the deal she’d made with his boys. This was extortion, pure and simple.

Kind of like blackmailing her with a media threat for more time?

He shrugged, uneasy about his own behavior.

On the way over, he’d grabbed award-winning gyros from Giorgio’s Grotto, the Greek restaurant owned by his mother’s new husband, as a peace offering.

A shared meal cured a lot of ills. He liked cooking for people he loved. He wasn’t much for hugs or flattery, but a loaf of herb bread hot from the oven, served with basil butter and gazpacho from farmer’s market heirloom tomatoes said plenty about what was in his heart.

Part of his trouble with Cici was he kept mixing up anger at her with wanting to get her naked. He didn’t understand her, didn’t even like her, but she spiked his wiring somehow, blowing all the circuits with a look, a move, a twitch of her glossy lips.

He’d felt like this way back, when he’d watched her thump into the pole outside his house. She was so short that at first he thought the car was driverless. When he ran to see if she’d been hurt, she turned away to scrub off her tears, then acted tough as nails. He could see she was terrified to tell her mother. He had the idea her home life was grim, even if she was a Scottsdale snot.

Raul owed him a favor, so he’d fixed the bumper for free. When Gabe had brought her that drink, she’d looked at him with so much amazed gratitude, you’d have thought he’d found her long lost kitten.

A feeling had surged in him then—the urge to take care of her, be with her, figure out her quirky workings.

They never talked about it, but the vibe was always there, a constant low hum. And her candy smell hanging in Robert’s room liked to kill him at times.

Her office door was half-open, so he tapped on it, then went in.

She looked up from a yellow pad, her eyes crackling, her mouth tight, her movements jerky with anger. Not at him, though. Couldn’t be.

Something more recent, he figured, noticing that she’d smashed the magnetic sculpture flat and set the wave box rocking wildly.

He picked up some Tinkertoy pieces on the floor. Had she tossed them there? Damn. He hoped to hell Giorgio’s gyros had the power to soothe a savage principal.

The smile she managed looked almost painful.

He stopped the thrashing wave box with one finger and put the Tinkertoys on her desk. “Bad day?” he asked gently, braced for her to throw something at him.

“You could say that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Lunch should help.” He set the sack on her desk. She simply looked at him. “From Giorgio’s Grotto,” he added, to get the conversation going.

Crickets.

“Best gyros in town.”

Still nothing.

“And I’m not just saying that because my mom married Giorgio.”

This time she broke. “She did? That’s…great.”

FELICITY©TRIED©TO©SMILE past her pain. Gabe had returned, which meant he wanted to negotiate. He’d brought food and was offering personal news, clearly trying to be friendly.

“Yeah. He’s a good guy. He makes her happy.”

Thank goodness. Robert’s mother was okay. That relieved her, especially after Gabe had bristled the first day at the mere mention of his family.

“So…you hungry?” he asked.