Chapter 22

It’s hard to win a pennant, but it’s harder losing one.

—Chuck Tanner

Holly had left Tucker multiple phone messages, trying to arrange an interview, but he’d proven hard to get ahold of. She knew Pace had asked her to let him handle it, but he hadn’t done so, at least not to her knowledge.

Plus, there was the little matter of this being her job, and she always did a thorough job.

When Tucker finally called her back, they arranged to meet at an outside burger joint in the center of town. Surrounded by tourists doing some summer shopping and college students on break, Holly pulled out the e-mail she’d gotten from her contact, the one that outlined the contents of the mysterious powder packet.

Tucker read the e-mail, then pushed it back across the table toward her, his face inscrutable. “What are you asking?”

“I got the packet out of your duffel bag. The duffel bag you brought to Pace’s.”

“Did you?”

“It . . . fell out.”

He laughed. “Uh-huh.”

“What do you use it for?”

“That’s not any of your business.”

“You don’t play ball,” she said.

Something in his eyes changed at that, chilled. Hardened. “I do not, no.”

She knew his background, that he could have been a great player himself except for his accident, so she tread carefully. “I just don’t see why you’d be taking stimulants.”

“No? I have a bum leg, Holly. The powder in that packet is a natural growth stimulant, from plants and herbs.”

“So you’re saying you use?”

“It’s not a manufactured drug, it’s natural.”

“Semantics, Tucker, and you know it. If the commissioner had known of its existence, it’d have been put on the banned list. It will be put on the banned list.”

He took a bite of his burger.

She sighed and tried another angle. “You and the guys on the Heat are all close friends.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Ty had your vitamins on him when he was arrested.”

“True. They’re good. They really work for him and his needs.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “And I’m wondering what else works for him. I’ve done the research, Tucker. I know that with some of these new high-tech, drugs, if you’re not tested in the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours after taking them, it won’t register. Which means Pace must have ingested one to two days before his blood work.”

His amusement faded. “Are you accusing Pace of using?”

“No. The opposite. I believe he tested positive only because he ingested by accident.”

Tucker set down his burger. Leaning forward, his eyes filled with a genuineness that couldn’t be faked, he said, “Pace and I go way back. I’d never do anything to hurt him.” His voice cracked slightly. “Never.”

She could feel his grief, just as she felt something else—he was holding back on her. Was he protecting himself, or someone else? “I know you care about them,” she said softly. “That you’d never hurt them. But whether by accident or not, someone did. Someone hurt Pace. And it could happen again.”

But that was all she could get out of him. Frustrated, she went to the Heat facilities, where she had a scheduled meeting with Sam for the charity event she’d agreed to help with. They consumed a bag of cookies while they planned the annual poker night, laying out the floor plan, how they’d place a different Heat player at each poker table, the food, etc. And though Holly wanted to, though she had plenty of opportunity, she didn’t tell Sam about the packet she’d found.

On the way out, she ran smack into Red. “Have you been to see Pace?” he asked.

“Yes. Earlier.”

His mouth tightened. “Distracting him from his recovery?”

“No, I’m distracting him from his pain.” She instantly wished back the words, especially when he started coughing. And coughing. “Red? You okay?”

“Inhaler,” he gasped.

But that didn’t work, so she ended up driving him to the ER and the entire time all she could do was picture Pace’s face when she called to tell him she’d nearly killed his pitching coach.

But after a round of oxygen and some meds, Red was fine. Holly tried to take him home, but he refused to go, insisting on being dropped back off at the stadium, where he was meeting Ty for a pitching practice. “Damn stubborn men,” she muttered, pulling back into the Heat’s parking lot. “All of you.”

“That’s right, missy. We are.” As he got out of her car, he reached into her backseat for his bag and she went utterly still, frozen in shock as she watched him walk away carrying the same torn-in-the-corner bag Tucker had left that night at Pace’s.

She threw her car into park, turned off the engine, and followed him into the stadium and then to the bullpen, where Red had met up with Ty.

When she’d seen Tucker at the burger joint, she’d gotten the feeling he was protecting someone. What she’d never even imagined to think was that the person he might be protecting was his own father.

Red saw her approach, sighed, then gestured to Ty to keep throwing as he sauntered over to Holly. “What now? You not done trying to kill me?”

“Are you doling out stimulants to your players?”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell are you mumbling about?”