Dan Alexander, Pitcher Read online

  He made love to her slowly. Holly savored every moment, tucking each touch, each kiss, each caress into her memory. When they had satisfied each other, tears she’d been holding back burst forth. He held her, stroking her hair then her back.

  Something wetted her scalp. His tears? Surprised, she kept quiet to avoid embarrassing him, but smiled at his reaction. A man emotional after sex?

  “Will you hold me all night?” she whispered, her voice wobbling.

  “Of course.”

  She washed up then returned to his arms. The room was chilly, indicating Dan had turned up the air conditioning. She cozied up to his warm body, wiggling her backside into his hips. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his chest. The hair there tickled her for a moment. His firm muscle braced her.

  “I love you,” he said. “Don’t forget me.”

  “How could I?”

  “People think of me as an invincible pitcher. I’m just a man, Holly.”

  “You’re much more than that to me.” She sighed. Contentment pushed sadness out of her heart as she let herself drift off to sleep. She focused on his regular breathing and soon joined him in slumber.

  A bad dream jolted her awake at four. She gasped and bolted upright in bed.

  “Wha?” came his sleepy voice.

  She reached for him. Her fingers ran into his solid pecs. “Nothing. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. Letting her eyes adjust to the darkness, her heart beat slowed. How many nightmares would she have before this ordeal was over?

  * * * *

  The young woman awoke to a cloudy, cool morning. Holly thought it appropriate that the sky should be overcast on the day she was to meet with the D.A. She awoke before Dan. Rolling over on her side, she lay still, studying him while he slept. With a few locks of dark hair flopping over his forehead, his face looked more handsome than ever.

  Her gaze traveled down his body. Dan took care of himself, working out, eating right and running every day. She ached to touch him, but didn’t want to wake him up. Savoring the private moment to stare at him without him knowing was too good to pass up. The muscles in his arms bulged a bit. His legs were trim and strong, hips slender. Since he was facing her, she couldn’t see his cute butt.

  As if by command, he rolled over, giving her a perfect view. His broad back and shoulders were powerful. Looking at him gave her goosebumps. It was hard to believe he had been her lover. What did she have to give back to him? Oh, yeah, she made a few meals, listened to him talk baseball, and made love with him whenever he wanted. But who wouldn’t?

  He tossed again, ending up on his back with morning wood. She’d have one parting gift for him before they had to separate. She leaned over and took him in her mouth. He started.

  “What the?”

  “Morning,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you a goodbye gift,” she said.

  He laughed and stroked her hair.

  When she was done, they hopped into the shower together. Before rinsing off, he took her against the stall wall. The scent and taste of his skin was so clean and fresh from the spray, she kept her mouth fastened to his shoulder as he pumped into her.

  When she turned off the water, he leaned out to grab a towel.

  “Let me do it,” he said, holding the fluffy fabric out of her reach. When she put her arms down, he dropped it over her head and rubbed her hair. He dried off her entire body, and then she did his. They kissed, sweetly at first, then passionately.

  Once in the bedroom, they pulled out clothes.

  “I have a game today.”

  “Good luck. I know you’ll win.”

  “Every game counts now.”

  “You’re ahead, right?”

  “By half a game. Easy lead to lose.”

  “You won’t lose it. You’ll make it bigger,” she said, raising her gaze to his.

  “Your confidence in me is nice, but I’m not the only one out there.”

  “The team has been doing great. Your fielding is the best in the league.”

  “You’re right about that,” he said, slipping the sweatshirt over his head.

  Holly donned the navy blue suit and white blouse she’d bought for the trial. She needed to look official, grown-up, ready, to testify and be believed.

  “That’s a new look.”

  “Professional.”

  “I want to rip that jacket and shirt off.”

  She laughed. “That’s not the reaction I’ll be hoping for from the jury.”

  He kissed her. “You’ll be terrific. Of course, they’ll believe you. After all, it’s the truth.”

  “It is. But people don’t always believe the facts.”

  “You’ll make ’em believe it.”

  His confident attitude cheered her. They got in his car, and he drove her to the subway station. He put on the flashers and pulled to the curb to unload her small suitcase. They embraced. Holly’s eyes drifted shut. She didn’t want to let go. Catcalls aimed at Dan might have bothered her in the past, but not today. A few tears broke loose.

  “Don’t mind them,” he whispered into her hair.

  “I don’t.”

  Finally, they parted. Air cooled her skin, reminding her that she had shared his warmth only moments ago. Feeling the separation, she stepped back. His expression was sad. He frowned then raked his fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. Would she ever find a love like this again?

  “I’ll wait for you. Please don’t find someone else while you’re gone,” he said.

  “I could never find anyone like you,” she replied.

  He grinned. “If we win the pennant, can you come to watch the series?”

  “I don’t know. So much is up in the air.”

  “I’ll leave a ticket at the box office anyway. Just in case.”

  “Okay. I’ll do my best. Now, go win your game.” She brushed her lips against his for the last time.

  Gripping her upper arms, he gazed into her eyes.

  “I love you, Dan. I always will.”

  “Me too, babe.”

  She picked up her suitcase and turned to the subway. After she boarded and to take her mind off missing her lover, Holly recollected the night when she’d seen Flash’s bodyguard kill the man in the alley. The D.A. would want to know all the details. As the train sped along the tracks underground, she replayed the events of that horrible evening when her whole world came crashing down.

  At each stop, people got off and new people climbed on. Holly flipped through pictures of Dan on her phone, keeping to herself and not making eye contact with anyone. Within fifteen minutes, she’d reached Canal Street, her stop. Unfolding the paper with the directions to Al Housman’s office on it, she walked east for a few blocks before getting to One Hogan Place. She entered the building and got on the line to go through security.

  Seeing the guards made her feel safer. She made eye contact, and her breathing returned to normal. Only a few more steps, and she’d be safe in the custody of the D.A.’s office.

  At her turn, she stepped up to the guard. “Mr. Housman said I should tell you to call him and tell him Terri Samuels is here.”

  The man checked some papers on his desk, gave her a long look, and then picked up the phone. “He’s sending someone to escort you, Ms. Samuels. Could you step aside, please?”

  Holly moved closer to the wall.

  “Hey! Aren’t you Holly Merrill?” The man who called out snapped a picture of her when she turned toward him. Although there seemed to be no point in denying it now, she kept quiet. No reason to confirm his suspicions.

  A warm hand closed around her upper arm. Startled, she glanced up into a pair of dark eyes.

  “Mr. Housman sent me. I’m John. Come with me.”

  “Hey, Miss Merrill, where have you been? How does it feel to be testifying against Flash Kincaid? Are you scared?” The newsman got too close, and John shoved him out of
the way.

  “Move it, asshole. Don’t talk to him. Let’s go,” John said, as he ushered Holly to a back elevator.

  Once the doors closed, she turned to him. “It doesn’t matter anymore that he recognized me, does it?”

  “That depends. How many people you been hangin’ with know who you are?”

  She swallowed. The Nighthawks! Soon, they’d all know exactly who she was. Not the Hot Dog Girl, but a fugitive. She groaned at the thought of how embarrassed Dan would be.

  “You know, John, when I mess up, I do it huge.” She shook her head. Well, that was the end of Dan. She shivered at the thought of all the ridicule he was going to take. He didn’t deserve the heat. After all, she hadn’t told him who she was until he’d already been in pretty deep. If she’d been up front, he probably would have walked away.

  A smile graced her lips. Nope, not Dan. He wasn’t that kind of guy. At least she hoped he wasn’t.

  The elevator opened on the seventh floor. She followed John down the hall to the district attorney’s offices. He brought her right in to meet Al Housman. They shook hands. He was a man of medium height with slightly longer hair, slicked back, and bushy eyebrows over piercing brown eyes. He was slim and wore a navy blue suit. The jacket covered the back of his chair, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing slightly hairy forearms. Regardless of his slender build and casual look, he exuded power, a keenness, like a fox.

  “Before we get down to it, this is John,” Housman said, pressing a button by his phone. Another big man entered from a side door. “And this is Buzz. They will be guarding you from now ’til the end of the trial. They’ll take you to the hotel suite and stay there with you. After the trial, Barb Finn’ll take over. She’s got a new identity ready to go. She’ll drive you to your new home and explain the set up. She’ll also give you your new driver’s license and a little seed money to get you started.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Housman,” she said, relaxing in a leather wing chair facing his desk.

  “We appreciate you coming in to testify. We know the risk you’re taking. But someone has to get scum like Kincaid off the street. We’ll do everything we can to keep you safe.”

  Holly’s shoulders eased down, and her tension drained out. “Thank you.”

  “My second in command, George, will ask you some questions. Are you okay?”

  She smiled at him. “I’m fine. I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

  “With your help, that scumwad will be behind bars soon. And you can get back to your life.”

  Al stood up. The side door opened again and another man, a blond, entered the room. He introduced himself and led Holly into a small conference room. Several people were there. One set up a recording device, while the other held a pen and pad. George indicated a chair, and Holly sat down. She hadn’t known what to expect, but she sure didn’t think she’d be a celebrity.

  George poured a cup of water and placed it on the long table in front of her. Suddenly parched, she took a drink.

  “Okay, Miss Merrill. Can you tell us about the night of June sixth? Take your time. Don’t leave out anything, no matter how small.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dan took comfort in the banter with his buddies in the locker room.

  “Matt won the pool the last two times. You’re on a roll, Jackson,” Chet Candelaria said, as he pulled on his uniform pants.

  “That’s the only roll he’s ever gonna see,” Jake Lawrence said.

  “Yeah, no rolls in the hay for Jackson,” Nat put in, shaking his head.

  “Fuck you. There’s no hay in New York City anyway. Just because you can’t spot a babe before I do. Why don’t you watch, next time? Learn from the master.”

  “Some of us are watching the game,” Bobby Hernandez said.

  “Like that’s ever gonna help your average, asshole.”

  “Who you callin’ asshole?”

  “You, dickwad,” Matt said, pointing to the second baseman.

  “Dickwad? That’s much better. My dick? Yeah.”

  “That’s not what that means,” Nat pointed out.

  “I don’t give a shit,” Bobby responded.

  “Dan used to win big, but he’s pussy-whipped now, so he doesn’t play anymore,” Jake said.

  “You wish you had a girl like Holly,” Dan said. “I can’t play today, anyway. I’m pitching.”

  “Good. We’ll see if Mr. Seduce-Me-Not can keep his streak going,” Nat said.

  “Two wins isn’t a streak. It’s fuckin’ luck,” Jake put in.

  “Jealous. You’re just jealous,” Matt responded.

  Dan pulled on his cleats. “I dare any of you to beat my record.”

  “Just watch me. I’ve got big-tit-radar,” Matt said.

  Jake laughed. “You wish.”

  “Yeah. He can see ’em, just can’t touch ’em.” Bobby snickered.

  Once they were dressed, they headed for the field. Dan stood with his hat over his heart during the national anthem. Heaviness weighed on him, knowing when he turned to take the mound, he wouldn’t be tipping his cap to Holly.

  Matt joined him as they took the field. “Focus, Dan. We gotta win this one.”

  “I know.”

  The catcher clapped his pitcher on the back then headed for the plate. Dan threw a few warm-up pitches. His arm was loose, and energy and determination flowed through him. He struck out the first batter.

  Matt gave him a thumbs-up. Striking out the first batter relaxed the pitcher. It gave him an edge, and let the other team know that had they something to fear. His confidence soared. He took charge, narrowed his eyes, focused his attention, and sent the ball rocketing over the plate at ninety-three miles an hour. He was on fire. His prowess lasted right through the eighth inning. He received a standing ovation when he was relieved in the ninth.

  He even executed a perfect bunt, moving Matt to second base, where he scored on a double by Nat Owen. The pitcher fooled everyone by taking a full swing and connecting for a hit to left field. He ran like the wind and beat the ball to first base.

  The score was Nighthawks, five, the Washington Generals, two. He’d given up one home run, walked three, and struck out fourteen, making a new record for himself.

  In the locker room, he hummed in the shower. Since he wasn’t meeting anyone after the game, he took his time. Fastening a towel around his waist, he padded out to his locker to get dressed. His five closest buddies milled around. Completely dressed, they loitered in the clubhouse, none making eye contact with him.

  “What’s up?”

  Matt shifted his weight from foot to foot then extended his arm. He held a newspaper. “Have you seen this?”

  Dan snatched the newsprint from his friend and glanced at the front page. There was a huge picture of Holly with the headline—“Missing Witness Turns Up to Nail Kincaid.” He snorted. She looked like a deer in the headlights.

  “Did you know about this?”

  “Yeah. I did. So what?”

  “That’s the Hot Dog Girl, your chick,” Jake said.

  “What’s your point?” Dan put his hands on his hips. “Do you want to make something outta this?”

  All the men muttered negative responses. Nat and Bobby put their palms up and backed out the door. Matt waited for his friend.

  “Thought you might want to grab dinner,” he said.

  Dan threw the paper on a chair. “The press is going to make a shit storm out of this.”

  “Wait until they find out she’s been working here.”

  “They’ll never find out.”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone’ll recognize her. Someone’s bound to spill the beans.”

  “So? She is who she is.”

  “Well, it’s gonna be a shit storm for you too.”

  “Think so?”

  Matt sniffed. “Are you kidding?”

  “Let’s go to Freddie’s. I could use a drink.”

  * * * *

  Holly lost track of time.
She never saw the outside, except to be ushered into a waiting taxi and taken downtown to be grilled by the district attorney and his staff, then returned to her room. The hotel was on the West side of Manhattan, a smaller establishment, removed from the hustle and bustle of midtown. John and Buzz were her constant companions. They ate take-out food, watched endless movies, and avoided the news. The men were happy when she turned on the Nighthawks game.

  She cheered Dan on from the quiet of her hotel as he thumped the Generals. With the need to tell someone where she’d been for the past few months burning in her heart, Holly confided in John and Buzz. It didn’t matter if they told anyone, because she couldn’t go back there after the trial anyway.

  “Really? You’re not shittin’ me, now, are ya?” Buzz asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Can’t believe you were right there all the time,” John said, with a chuckle.

  Holly switched channels to catch a bit of what was happening in the world, but. John took the remote and changed back.

  “Sorry,” he said, switching to a game show.

  “Hey. I wanted to see that.”

  “Uh uh. D.A.’s orders.”

  “It’s bad enough I have to be cooped up here. Now, I can’t see what’s going on in the world?”

  “I’m sorry, Holly. Al gave specific orders to keep any broadcasts away from you.”

  “Why?”

  “Might influence your testimony,” John said, tightening his grip on the remote.

  “The facts are the facts.”

  “I’m sorry. I have my orders.” He frowned, but his eyes were sympathetic.

  She remained on the couch, pouting, like a little kid, folding her arms across her sweater. She let out a breath as her eyes scanned the room. She spied something sticking out a wee bit from under the door. A newspaper!

  John turned a repeat of a well-known crime show on, sat back, and sipped his coffee. Holly pushed to her feet and moseyed around the room. She took a donut from the counter in the tiny kitchen and munched. Inching toward the front door, she kept an eye on John and Buzz, who dozed in an easy chair.