“Track, I got it. He’ll spend a chunk of the evening signing autographs. That’ll give me time to survey and observe.”
The line falls silent as he sorts through all possibilities. I’ve done the same all afternoon.
I dropped Cole off this morning for his game in D.C. and headed straight to the gym. I spent two hours working out and sparing with Jos, trying to beat the shit out of my fears.
Since meeting with Kerry, I’ve been gearing myself up for feeling exposed and any amount of touching that might be involved.
But now, I’m in full-on prep mode, researching the venue’s layout and possible pinch points.
“What do you think about the latest note?” His question breaks my concentration.
I straighten and stretch my arms overhead, my body stiff from sitting in the middle of my bed. Track and I discussed this the other day, but only briefly.
“I think it’s interesting they backed off a bit.”
“Tells me they got nervous or couldn’t find another opportunity to track him.”
I stare at my computer. “I think they’re regrouping, or maybe the Stingrays win made a difference. I just can’t tell if this is inside his team or out.”
I spent an hour digging up everything I could on Travis Bonnard, aka T-Bone. I’ve got to find out if there’s real animosity or malice behind his bullying. I’m hoping this event will allow me to do that.
I also dug into a few of his other teammates but came up empty. Next, I’ll be sifting through the league, searching for anyone with a possible motive. It’d have to be someone with a personal vendetta. Everything on Carly, the chef, and Mindy has come back clear. I’m still waiting for background information on his superfan, Rodney.
I’m having trouble understanding why anyone would want Cole to quit, given that he might be the only thing keeping the Stingrays from losing every game. It makes me think it has more to do with Cole than football, and I need to figure out why.
“They’re looking at you.” Tracker’s tone softens.
“Yeah, but using me to make him quit. It seems. . .weak.”
“I agree. I think you’re right. They’re recalculating and processing, waiting for an opportunity. You need to be prepared.”
“Got it, boss.”
“No risks, Ryder. This is about keeping him safe. We’ll get who’s doing this.”
“Goooottt iiiittt,” I sing, needing him to let up.
“I want a complete debrief afterward.”
“Yes, sir. I gotta go pick up The Assignment and escort him home.”
“Nice nickname.”
I smile. “Talk to the girls.”
“No, thanks. They’ve been riding my ass about booking that trip.”
I tug on my boots. “You should get to that. You need a break, old man.”
“Old man, my ass. Keep The Assignment safe.”
I laugh. “They got to you!”
“Shit. No one is safe from you girls.”
I hang up, grabbing my keys and backpack. The quiet this afternoon started to make me itch, so I turned on Cole’s game and watched while I researched.
Cole threw two touchdowns, but they still got blown out of the water. The commentators relayed that the Stingrays’s defense couldn’t stop the run game. I’m not sure what that means other than they weren’t doing their job effectively.
