Dan Alexander, Pitcher Read online

  .

  DAN ALEXANDER,

  PITCHER

  (Bottom of the Ninth, Book 1)

  Jean Joachim

  Copyright 2016

  Moonlight Books

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  A Moonlight Books Novel

  Sensual Romance

  Dan Alexander, Pitcher

  Bottom of the Ninth series

  Copyright © 2016 Jean C. Joachim

  E-book ISBN: 978-0-9971833-7-5

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Cover Art Photography: Eric McKinney of 6:12 Photography

  Cover Model: Chandler R.

  Edited by Tabitha Bower

  Proofread by Renee Waring

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2016 by Moonlight Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Moonlight Books

  Dedication

  To the great baseball players who made me fall in love with the game.

  Special Dedication

  To the late Marilyn Reisse Lee,

  my dearest friend.

  Acknowledgment

  Thank you for your support:

  Tabitha Bower, my editor, Renee Waring, my proofreader, Ariana Gaynor, Kathleen Ball, Vicki Locey, David Joachim, Steve Joachim, and with special thanks to Larry Joachim, for providing guidance regarding the courtroom scene.

  Books by Jean C. Joachim

  BOTTOM OF THE NINTH

  DAN ALEXANDER, PITCHER

  MATT JACKSON, CATCHER (Coming)

  JAKE LAWRENCE, THIRD BASEMAN (Coming)

  FIRST & TEN SERIES

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK

  BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER

  PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH

  DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK

  SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY, OFFENSIVE LINE

  AL “TRUNK” MAHONEY, DEFENSIVE LINE

  HARLEY BRENNAN, RUNNING BACK

  OVERTIME, THE FINAL TOUCHDOWN

  A KING’S CHRISTMAS (Coming)

  THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB

  RESCUE MY HEART

  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES

  IF I LOVED YOU

  RED CARPET ROMANCE

  MEMORIES OF LOVE

  MOVIE LOVERS

  LOVE’S LAST CHANCE

  LOVERS & LIARS

  His Leading Lady (Series Starter)

  NOW AND FOREVER SERIES

  NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY

  NOW AND FOREVER 2, THE BOOK OF DANNY

  NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE

  NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART

  NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY

  NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY (prequel)

  MOONLIGHT SERIES

  SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS

  APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT

  UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON

  MOONLIGHT & ROSES (prequel)

  LOST & FOUND SERIES

  LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  NEW YORK NIGHTS NOVELS

  THE MARRIAGE LIST

  THE LOVE LIST

  THE DATING LIST

  SHORT STORIES

  SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED

  TUFFER’S CHRISTMAS WISH

  THE SECOND PLACE HEART (Coming)

  Chapter One

  Pine Grove, NY

  When Holly Merrill, AKA Terri Samuels, heard a noise outside, she doused the living room light and approached the back window. Inching the curtain open, she held her breath while her eyes scanned the trees in the backyard. Standing still for what seemed an eternity, her patience paid off. Something moved. Leaves on one tree, no others, swayed. Just the one in the middle. The clouds shifted, making an opening for moonbeams. Holly made out the silhouette of a man’s head and shoulders.

  She sucked in air and stepped back. Though he couldn’t see her, the lights on in her place had told him she was there. Terror coursed through her veins. She’d been waiting for this to happen from the moment she’d entered the witness protection program. Obviously, her cover was blown, and that must be Flash Kincaid’s man outside. If he caught her, things wouldn’t be pleasant. In fact, they’d probably end up fatal.

  Suspecting even the D.A.’s office couldn’t outsmart Flash for long, Holly had packed an escape bag long ago. She pulled it from the closet, stuffed her phone in her pocket, slung her purse over her shoulder, and eased open the front door. She listened for footsteps, but didn’t hear any. Softly, she tiptoed down the front walk. Her heart beat so fast she could hear it in her ears. Every nerve in her body ratcheted up to high alert.

  Holly skedaddled across the street and hid behind Mrs. Partridge’s hedges. Trying to control her breathing, she squatted and waited. Sure enough, a man came around the side of the house. He pulled out a cell phone as he tried the front door. She had left it unlocked, and he went in.

  That was her cue to beat it. She ran down the sidewalk like the devil was chasing her, for surely he was, in human form. She spotted Jory Walker’s house, went around to the back, and tapped on a window. Trent Stevens, Jory’s husband, spied her and opened the door. Holly pushed inside and shut it quietly. She slid to the ground, drawing her knees to her chest, and panted.

  “Are you okay?” Trent asked. “Jory? I think you’d better come in here.”

  “Turn off the light,” Holly hissed.

  He flicked the switch.

  Jory joined them. “Hey, how come it’s so dark in here?”

  “Shhhh.” Holly pressed her finger to her lips. “He’s come.”

  Jory dropped down, sitting cross-legged next to her friend.

  “Trent, turn off everything and watch out front for a man on foot.” Holly leaned back against the door, trying to calm down.

  He left the room.

  “Who?” Jory asked.

  “Flash’s man. He’s here to get me. To silence me.”

  “But I thought you were protected?”

  “Someone must have leaked something. Or maybe, after a year, they stop? When nothing happened, they assumed Flash had stopped looking?”

  “I guess,” Jory said.

  Holly shook her head. “They’ve scheduled the trial for two weeks from now. I’ve been expecting this ever since I got the new date.”

  “What are you going to do?” Jory asked.

>   “Leave. And I’m going back to being Holly.”

  “What about the trial?”

  “Fuck the trial. I can’t testify if I’m dead. They screwed up. I’m on my own.”

  “What happens if you don’t show?”

  “Al Housman, the D.A., said if I disappeared, he wouldn’t let Flash get off. He said he’d put it off until they could locate me.”

  “Where will you go?”

  “I don’t know.” Holly chewed a nail.

  Trent rejoined the ladies. “There was something going on down by your place. I saw a black SUV pull up and two men get out.”

  “Oh, shit. They’ll find me.”

  “No, they won’t. Come. Downstairs.” Trent opened the door to the basement.

  The two women descended into the darkness. Trent handed Jory two flashlights. There were tiny windows high up on the wall. By the front of the house, there was an old sofa. The friends doused the lights once they were seated. Holly pushed up on her knees to peek outside.

  “Can you see anything?” Jory whispered.

  “Car wheels, driving slowly down the street,” Holly returned. “A flashlight!”

  They were silent as Holly stared out into the night, careful to keep as low as possible and still see. She spied a man down the road, right behind the circle of light. She clasped her hands together to make them stop trembling. The stranger stopped at several houses. All the lights were out in Trent and Jory’s home now, but that didn’t stop the searcher.

  Holly slid down onto the sofa. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of feet scuffling on the flagstone drawing nearer. She clutched at Jory, who hugged her tight. The two stretched out, covered themselves with an old blanket, and kept as still as possible. Holly pushed the edge of the fleece up just enough for one eye to see. The basement was pitch black. The noise of the feet stopped, and a round beam flashed on the back wall. She figured he must have been bending over, peering into the room. She held her breath.

  Suddenly, the light went out. As quickly as the feet had approached, they scraped their way back down the walk, the footfalls getting fainter. Holly thought her heart would burst it was beating so fast. She gripped herself around the middle in a futile attempt to stop shaking.

  Holly and Jory lay still for another ten minutes. When Trent opened the door, they started at the sudden sound.

  “All clear. The men got in the car and drove off,” Trent said, in a loud whisper.

  Stiff from fear and lying in one position, the women eased themselves up and returned to the kitchen. Trent had poured three shots of whiskey. Holly downed hers in one gulp and asked for more. Trent refilled her glass.

  “You need a plan,” he said, taking a sip.

  “I need to disappear. Where can I go? Where can I go?”

  “Someplace they’ll never find you,” Jory said. She chewed her lip.

  “Can’t hide in Pine Grove anymore. It’s too easy to find someone in a small town, and they know you’ve been here,” Trent added.

  “New York City, then,” Holly responded.

  They were quiet for a bit. Holly finished her second drink. She pushed to her feet and paced.

  “I’ve got it!” Jory jumped up.

  “What?” Holly asked.

  “Where’s the best place to hide? Where there are a ton of people, right?”

  Trent and Holly nodded.

  “Where would you find that many people every day in New York City?”

  Blank stares met Jory’s question.

  “On the subway?” Holly asked.

  “No, the baseball stadium, silly!”

  “The Nighthawks! Perfect. But she’s not a man and doesn’t play baseball,” Trent said.

  “Nope, but Nan’s nephew, Bud Magee, works at the Nighthawk’s stadium. I bet he could get her a job there, selling peanuts or something. What could be more anonymous than walking the aisles during a game? They’ll never look for her there.”

  * * * *

  In New York City, Dan Alexander, star pitcher for the New York Nighthawks, finished his vodka tonic in The Hideout, his favorite club in Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan. Valerie Downs tossed her blonde hair and trained her brown eyes on him. The next step was taking her back to his spacious, Riverside Drive apartment and screwing her brains out.

  His shifted his weight, put his glass on the bar, and stared at his hands. Not happening tonight. It wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy the sex, but she insisted on staying the night. And the next morning, babbled on and on about her job in advertising and who was fucking whom, professionally and personally. He didn’t like her constant complaints, and he hated gossip. Growing up with three older sisters, he’d had enough gossip by the time he was twelve to last a lifetime.

  So, regardless of her curves and ability to deliver a mind-numbing blow job, Valerie was growing old.

  “Let’s blow this joint. Get it? Blow?” She laughed at her own joke.

  “Yeah, uh. I get it. But not tonight. I’ve got an early practice tomorrow.”

  “You’re not pitching ’til Monday.”

  “I know. But practice starts tomorrow at nine.”

  She made a face, pulling her mouth down in a most unattractive way. He helped her on with her coat and shrugged into his leather jacket. Then, he slipped fifty bucks into her hand.

  “I’m putting you in a taxi.”

  “Sometimes you’re a real dud, you know that?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. Just not happening tonight.” He flagged down a cab and helped her in. Her mile-high heels almost tripped her up. He wondered how women walked in those things. And they all wore them. He stood for a moment, watching people coming and going from The Hideout. The women all looked the same. The men too. He smiled. Yes, he was dressed like the other guys.

  “Buncha lemmings,” he muttered, as he whistled for another vehicle for himself.

  He rode uptown to northern Manhattan where the stadium was. A neon sign glowed in the dark of night—Freddie’s Bar and Grill. And it was still open. Dan checked his watch. It was only eleven. He stepped inside and plopped down at a table.

  “Hey, Danny boy, where you been?” It was Tommy, Freddie’s grandson.

  Freddie was Freddie Caputo, former star shortstop for the Nighthawks, retired for forty years. Freddie had put his meager savings into this place long ago, and his son and grandson had kept it going when Freddie was too old to work there anymore. His son, John, had died in a car crash ten years earlier. Now, Tommy Caputo had taken over.

  Dan grinned. Matt Jackson, catcher for the Nighthawks, and Dan’s best buddy, slapped the pitcher on the shoulder and joined his teammate.

  The place wasn’t crazy with people, like The Hideout, but it was busy.

  Tommy called out from behind the bar. “The usual?”

  Dan nodded.

  “Me too!” Matt added.

  Dan tipped back in his chair.

  “What happened? Valerie give you the boot?”

  Dan shook his head.

  “On the rag?”

  Dan laughed. “Just not up for her usual stuff. I’m tired of the same women all the time. Just interested in clothes, money, and what a guy can give ’em. Valerie’s never even been to a game. She doesn’t know shit about baseball.”

  “She has other skills.” Matt snickered, his eyes glowing.

  Dan chuckled. “Yeah, but even that gets boring, when it’s all there is.”

  “You’re bragging! Bore me, baby. Bore my balls off!”

  “Your problem is that you have no finesse. You’re too blunt. Right out there. Trying to get the chick in bed in the first thirty seconds.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to wait two or three minutes. Think that’d help?”

  “Asshole.” Dan smirked. “Woman are people too, you know. They have other parts, like brains.”

  “Yeah? Really? I never noticed. Can’t get past the tits.”

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “So you say.”

  “Don�
��t you ever want to talk to a woman?”

  “There are much better things she can do with her mouth.”

  “You’re a sexist pig, know that?”

  Matt grinned. “Yeah. And the babes love it.”

  “Really? Is that why you’re at Freddie’s by yourself on a Saturday night?”

  Matt frowned. “I’m between chicks, that’s all.”

  “You’ll be between chicks for the next twenty years if you don’t change your routine.”

  Tommy plopped two draft beers in front of the men. “How many did you have before you got here?” the bartender asked Dan.

  “One.”

  “This is your limit, then. Cal Crowley told me two’s it for you guys.”

  “Since when does the manager of the Nighthawks get off telling a barkeep how many beers to serve?” a man with a pot belly and thinning hair asked, closing his fingers around a glass of whiskey.

  “Since he invested in this place, buddy,” Tommy responded.

  “Okay, okay. We got it,” Dan said, sliding twenty bucks across the bar. “This one’s on me, Matt.”

  “Yeah? How come?”

  “I may be a pitcher, but you’re the strike out king,” he said, before raising the stein to his lips.

  His buddy punched him in the arm. “Very funny.”

  * * * *

  Jory threw the car in park, but left the motor running.

  Sitting next to her, Holly took a deep breath then let it out. “This is it, then.”

  “Good luck. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Call me if you need anything. Be careful, but have fun too,” Jory said, drawing her friend into a hug.