Page 4 of Striker’s Foul (Shiver of Chaos #3)

AMELIA

D riving into town toward the private school, I spot a motorcycle in my rearview mirror. I know it’s him, but I’m going to ignore it. I need to get on with my life, and he isn’t a part of it.

When I pull up to the school, I park at the curb like several other parents and wait.

Jude makes his way out. He stands head and shoulders over most of the kids.

He holds a ball, bouncing it off his knee a few times as he walks.

He pauses on his trek, doing a few dribbles between his foot and knee before he sees me waiting.

He catches the ball and rushes toward me.

I wave at him like a loon, and he just shakes his head, knowing I’m trying to embarrass him. It’s a joke we’ve been playing on each other since he was in grade school.

“Hey, Mom.” He laughs as he opens the back door to drop his bag and ball. He climbs into the passenger seat and buckles up. “How was your morning?” He leans over to kiss my cheek. My son has never been embarrassed to show me affection. It’s as if he knows how much I crave it.

I pull away, checking my mirrors for other cars, and we head toward the field where his city league practice is. He has a game tomorrow, and it’s an important one for his team. They’ve been struggling to stay among the top three teams in their tier.

“It was good. We need to talk.”

“Ugh, I hate when you say it like that.”

“Your grandfather stopped by last night. He said he’s worried the press is going to catch wind of us being here. He asked that we contact him before we say anything to them.”

Jude has known for years about Harold and his lack of relationship with either of us.

“Jerk can kiss my ass. He’s not my grandfather. Papa was.”

“Jude.” I raise my voice.

“What? It’s true. Bet you told him that when he said it to you.” He looks at me, and I shrug.

“I didn’t, but I thought it.”

“He doesn’t deserve any of your respect, Mom. If anyone asks, I’ll just say no comment or I don’t know the man.”

I love that my son isn’t afraid to say how he feels. I’ve been trying to get him to stop cussing, but it’s been a hard lesson to stick. He was raised around roadhouses and farms, after all.

As we drive through town, I think about how much has changed since I left.

I know the family building the new ice rink for the hockey team.

Zander’s father and mine used to run in the same circles.

Like my son with soccer, Zander’s only focus was hockey as a teenager.

It wasn’t until he went pro and played for a team in Texas that he started having run-ins with puck bunnies and girls.

I never let him know I was there. I did everything I could to stay hidden so Harold wouldn’t follow through on his threats to take Jude from me.

Honestly, though, Papa would have shot him if he’d tried to take our boy from us.

I can’t stop the motion. My hand drifts to the dashboard where Papa’s purple heart is attached. I drag my fingers over the cool metal, then along the ribbon.

“I miss him too,” Jude says, and I turn to look at him. “He would have been proud of you for standing up for yourself and coming back here.”

“Oh yeah? When did you get so smart?” I tease him as we wait for the light to change. Glancing in the mirror, I see the motorcycle several cars back.

“Is that him? Is that my dad?”

I’ve never lied to my son. I’ve never been able to. But right now, I want to. I want to so badly it makes my stomach ache.

“You don’t have to answer.” Jude’s voice is quiet as he relieves me of that turmoil. “Why didn’t he want me? Where was he?”

“He didn’t know about you.” I give him the simple answer, because it’s true. “He was gone before I could tell him.” I don’t tell him about the money I know he took from Harold to go away.

After learning Luke knows Julian, I suspect they were in the same unit.

Julian used to talk to me about them. He called them the elite of the elite.

He never shared details about their missions, but I knew they were dangerous.

I remember him coming home once and telling me about a member who was killed.

He was devastated. Julian blamed himself for so long and still does for that young man’s death.

He never shared their names, though. He said it was for their protection and mine.

We pull up to the field, and Jude jumps out of the car.

I go to the back to get my chair while he grabs his large bag and gets ready.

He heads off to the field, and I move toward the sidelines where I sit and cheer him on.

I’ve only missed a handful of games or practices over the years, and it was always because I had classes.

Even as an employee of Red Dirt Roadhouse, my papa’s place, I worked my schedule around Jude’s games and practices.

For one or two tournaments, I had to use vacation time or go without pay.

Papa made sure I was always a mother first. He said it’s important for a child to know that his parents will always be there for him.

That nothing is more important than them.

We had a luxury some don’t, and I feel bad for those parents.

Striker

T he kid is all legs and arms. He’s got big feet too, which makes me think he’s probably going to be taller than I am.

He’s already a good six foot one. If, like me, he hits a growth spurt in his late teens or early twenties, he’ll definitely be taller.

It seems Amelia had a type, because I wasn’t the only tall guy she was with.

He’s got dark hair just like mine, though, and the way he moves on the field has me wondering.

Could he be? Would she keep that secret from me?

I think about what Harold told me she’d said. What if she was scared and pregnant and lied, saying I raped her instead of telling the truth? I loved her with every fiber of my heart. I would have given up everything just for her if she’d told me she was pregnant.

This kid could go pro easily. He’s got a natural talent I had to be taught.

He moves with the ball as if it’s an extension of his body, not just a piece of equipment.

He runs fearlessly, sliding to block a kick and popping up so fast he takes control and heads straight for the opposing net.

He’s not a glory hound either. He shares the spotlight and doesn’t get upset when other players miss shots he might have made.

The part of me that hopes he’s my son gets more excited the more I watch him.

I’m beginning to think he just might be.

By the time they’re done, the kid is dripping with sweat.

I watch as his petite mom hands him a clean shirt.

He pulls it on, slips into a pair of workout pants, and throws a towel over the passenger seat before climbing into the car.

He turns and looks at me. For just a moment, something flickers in his eyes.

Hurt, maybe anger. His striking blue eyes startle me because I’ve seen them before.

I see them every morning when I look in the mirror.

That’s my son.

I’ll find out why my girl kept me from his life. And I’ll find out why my mentor and brother knew but never told me. Instead of following them, I nod to the prospect to take over and head further into town toward the warehouse and art district where Ridley has her office.

I park and look over at Ridley’s house. It’s an old, converted warehouse. Contractors move in and out of the building, updating it to make room for her husband and the fact they’ll be adopting soon. Her adopted daughter, Franci, is married to Gambit now.

Ridley served with Gambit and me. She was in Commander’s unit too. She’s smart and can fight better than most men I know. She’s the epitome of a super soldier. With all the crap she’s been through over the last few years, it’s surprising she found a man she can trust and love.

I head next door to Andreason Black Securities and walk up the metal stairs to the second floor, where the offices are located.

The first floor houses all their vehicles, tools, and equipment.

Ridley had a flourishing business even before Commander decided to join forces with her.

As I step out onto the walkway, I hear my name.

“Striker, my man.”

Browser strides toward me. The shaved-bald, muscle-bound computer geek is a genius. He’s also been a true friend for a long time. We shake hands and pull into a half hug, thumping each other on the back.

“How you been?” he asks, and I know in that moment he’s been talking to Commander.

“Like shit. Want to tell me how long you’ve known about Amelia and her son?”

“Gosh… Well…” He stumbles over his words and rubs a hand over his head. “Honestly?”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I growl. “Is he mine? Tell me.”

“Yes,” he says. “I suspected years ago when we found her, but I didn’t know for sure until I saw the birth certificate.”

“I’m on his birth certificate?”

“Yeah. She might not have told you, but she didn’t deny you.”

“Fuck.” I pull my hair free from the leather wrap and let it fall around my shoulders, pissed that this happened to us. “She did this. If she hadn’t lied, I wouldn’t have had to leave.”

Browser looks over my shoulder. “How do you know she lied? What if she was lied to as well?”

I turn to face Commander, who’s standing behind me. “What do you know?” I demand.

“I won’t tell you,” he says. “You two need to talk.”

“Goddammit. That ain’t going to happen. She threw me out and told me not to come back.”

Commander steps back into his office, and we follow.

“You were the asshole, if I remember correctly.” He chuckles. “You all but pissed a circle around her. You thought Gambit was bad with Franci, but you’re worse.” He sits at his desk and leans back. “Who would gain from keeping you apart?”

“Her parents,” I say.

“Her mother died not too long after you left.”

“Her father, then. Or maybe her grandparents.”

“Mr. Granville was an ornery bastard, but her grandfather would’ve done anything for his girl. He thought of Jude more like the son he never had, so he wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him.”

“How long have you known he was my son?”

“Since he was two. Little shit pissed in my boots one time. Definitely your kid.”

Browser is full-on belly laughing, and I can’t help but chuckle.

“Why did he do that?” I ask.

“Said she was his mom and to leave her be.”

“Good kid.”

“He is,” Commander says. “But he needs a man around. A man willing to be there all the time. A man who will love his mother like she deserves.”

“I can’t do that.” I turn and head for the door, pissed off.

“Why not?” Commander demands.

“Because I can’t trust that she won’t turn on me again.”

“Asshole, she was lied to. You need to understand that.”

I walk out with some of my questions answered and many more swirling in my mind.

I’m not ready to trust yet. Maybe it’s selfish, but mostly I wonder why she would choose me when she could be with any man.

I’m still the town trash, and she’s the angel I thought I could possess, if only for a short time.