“Sure, bowl away. Take a few practice shots,” Bruiser said and glanced at Mac to find her looking at him with an expression on her face that would’ve scared the hell out of him if she’d been any other woman. He reached over and took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back.
For a moment, the old “time stood still” thing happened. Everyone but Mac faded away. Her thoughts mingled with his; her needs became his needs. Everything that mattered to him revolved around her. God, he was a sap, a lovesick sap—because what the hell else could possibly be wrong with him?
“You’re Bruiser Mackey, aren’t you?” A middle-aged man wearing a Steelheads cap with his wife and two kids diverted Bruiser’s attention. The little boys were wearing Steelheads jerseys.
Bruiser nodded. He’d been lucky so far that only a few people had ventured into his space and asked for an autograph.
“This must be your family,” his wife gushed.
For a moment silence reigned except for the sounds of balls rolling and the crash of the pins. Without glancing their way, he felt Mac and Elliot’s eyes on him as they waited to hear what he’d say.
“Yes, this is my family.”
“So nice to meet you.” Neither the man nor the woman paid much notice to Elliot, for which Bruiser was grateful. He gladly signed the guy’s hat and the kids’ shirts. After thanking him, the family trundled off, leaving Bruiser with—
His family.
Yes, they were his family. And he’d see to it that it became official.
One way or another.
Chapter 23—Handoff
Bruiser stifled a yawn and stared at nothing. Once he fulfilled his current contractual obligations, he’d never model again.
“Bruce, I need that smoking-sexy look only you can do.”
He snapped to attention and totally faked the photo shoot. Hell, he didn’t even remember what he was endorsing, other than his shirtless body. God, he hated this shit.
“Come on, one more pose, and we’re done.”
“Damn right, we’re done.” Bruiser was crankier than hell, but he’d been like this for two weeks. After what seemed like a few hundred more clicks of the camera, Bruiser got dressed and headed out. His cell chirped, sounding a lot happier than he fucking felt. He hoped like hell it was Mac calling. He could use her brand of therapy.
He glanced at the text message.
I need to talk to you. It was from Trudy.
Bruiser started to call Mac and stopped, not wanting to get her hopes up. He texted Trudy back. Where to meet you?
Bar. Soon.
Bruiser stared at the phone, wondering what to do next. He called the one person he knew with a level head and no-nonsense advice. In a few short minutes, he’d filled Brett in on the latest.
“So how far are you willing to go to get this information?”
“I don’t know. I can’t cheat on Mac, even if it might crack this case.”
“You are so hosed.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Another good man bites the dust for a good woman.” Brett laughed, but the sadness lingering in his voice made Bruiser feel like a shit. Once he settled his own problems, he’d put the Terrible Trio to work finding Brett a nice woman. Or maybe they’d become the Formidable Four, since Mac appeared to have joined their little group of strong women.
Bruiser headed for the bar, making it in record time.
His cell continued its merry chirping, and he checked it. Several calls and texts from Mac asking him to call her. He would call her. Later. He needed to take care of Trudy first. Bruiser turned into the parking lot and got out.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the bar. It was empty of customers, and Trudy looked up as he walked in. She frowned at him, as if he were distasteful medicine she had to take. Interesting. She wasn’t happy to see him.
Ignoring her less-than-welcoming glare—she’d invited him after all—he sauntered up to the bar, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He could and would do this for Mac and her father. They deserved to know what happened, and Will needed to be put to rest. Maybe if he poured on the charm, Trudy wouldn’t be able to resist. But Trudy seemed agitated. She scrubbed the same spot on the counter with a bar rag over and over.
“So, what’s up?” He leaned on the bar and took the beer she offered.
After glancing over her shoulder, Trudy got right to the point, not even taking the time to proposition him. “The house is being foreclosed on.”
“What house?”
“Ben and Sonja’s. They have to be out within the week. They’re worried; I think there’s incriminating evidence. Like on the property.”
“And why are you telling me this now?” Bruiser eyed her with suspicion, fearing he might be walking into a trap.
“I can’t sleep. This is really wearing on me.” Trudy kept glancing around as if she expected Sonja and Ben to walk in.
Bruiser didn’t buy it. Trudy only cared about herself. “What do you get out of this?”
Trudy leaned forward across the bar and grabbed a handful of his shirt. “I’m scared shitless. I think I’m next.” Her face was whiter than his away jersey, and her lower lip quivered.
“Why did you call me instead of the police?” Bruiser extracted her hands from his shirt and backed out of range.
“I’m afraid. They’ll think I helped do it.”
“Did you?”
She didn’t answer.
“You can ask for immunity before you tell them anything. I’ll get you an attorney to help make a deal.”
“Will you? Will you go with me? I don’t have anyone else. All of my friends are her friends.”
Bruiser hesitated. He didn’t trust this woman. Her story could be part of a trap. He’d seen firsthand how a female like her could ruin a man’s career and reputation. It’d happened too many times to teammates. If she involved him in any kind of scandal, even on the periphery, he could kiss goodbye to his efforts to gain guardianship of Elliot.
Bruiser studied her closely and hoped like hell she
