Backfield in Motion (33 page)

Tonight if he’d said
I love you
she
would have followed him to the ends of the earth, but declarations
of love had to be given freely, and neither of them were quite
there yet.

Instead, he made love to her so sweetly and
tenderly that she couldn’t deny the obvious.

Bruiser loved her.

Mac loved Bruiser.

What hell did a woman do with that
information?

* * * * *

The Jacks won the next game on Sunday Night
Football, and Bruiser ran for his third consecutive hundred-yard
game. He invited Elliot to attend but Elliot’s uncle wouldn’t let
him go.
Sunday was for worship, not watching grown men play a
violent game
.

On Tuesday evening Bruiser and Mac picked up
Elliot, the first time Bruiser had been able to carve out the time
in over a week.

The kid was reverting to past behaviors, not
wanting to go out in public, pulling into himself, and avoiding
contact with strangers.

Bruiser hated to see the changes and knew it
came from Elliot’s overbearing, self-righteous uncle and judgmental
aunt, not to mention the cousins. The good work the mental health
and hospital staff had done to improve Elliot’s confidence and
attitude was unraveling right before Bruiser’s eyes, and he
intended on doing what he could to sew the ragged edges of Elliot’s
confidence back together.

Elliot loved to bowl, so Bruiser and Mac
took him bowling. Brice had hated bowling, but Bruiser liked it, so
this was a step in the right direction for all of them. Bruiser was
working on taking Mac’s words to heart. He’d done a lot of thinking
about his life and knew she was right. He couldn’t shrug off years
of guilt just like that, but he’d chip away at it a little at a
time doing things Bruiser would do, not things Brice would do.

After they picked their bowling balls, they
sat down on the plastic chairs and Elliot took the scorer’s
desk.

“People are staring at me.” Elliot pulled
his Jacks’ baseball cap down farther until you could barely see his
eyes.

“No, Elliot, they’re staring at Bruiser.
He’s a big celebrity around these parts. Remember?” Mac tugged on
his sleeve and smiled at him.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right.” He grinned his
toothy grin. “Can I go first?”

“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 Jacks’ cap with his wife and two kids
diverted Bruiser’s attention. The little boys were wearing Jacks
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

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 wasn’t that good of an actor. He nodded, his decision
made, for better or worse. He’d take the chance. For Mac and for
Elliot he would do this. And for their future.

He pulled out his phone to make a call.
“Okay, let’s go. I’ll drive.”

His cell was dead.

* * * * *

Mac paced the floor while Elliot sat huddled
in a corner and her father channel-surfed. She tried Bruiser’s
phone one more time, furious he wasn’t returning her calls or text
messages. Once again it went straight to voicemail.

The Joneses would be here any moment. She
needed Bruiser here now. Mac and her father had just spent several
harrowing hours looking for a kid they thought was lost in downtown
Seattle.

Elliot had taken a wild bus ride all over
town, texting Mac with clues every half hour or so on the cell
Bruiser had given him. Like this was some kind of game. Mac and her
father were frantic to find him, and Bruiser was AWOL. Mac was
pretty pissed at the world in general right now.

Thanks to Craig’s incredible sleuthing
skills, he tracked Elliot’s journey on a bus through different
parts of Seattle until Elliot’s tracks led right back here to Mac’s
house. Craig had found the kid hiding in the tool shed in the
backyard.

The Joneses claimed they hadn’t noticed he
was missing until late last night and refused to call the police
for reasons Mac didn’t understand.

She didn’t know whether to hug Elliot or
chew his ass out, but she did know she’d had her share of drama
lately and was fed up.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot mumbled as he hugged
himself, looking lost and small.

She stopped pacing in front of the boy. “Did
you realize we were scared to death?”

Elliot shrugged and fingered the fabric on
his sweat pants.

“You could’ve been hurt or worse.”

“I won’t go back there.” He stuck out his
lower lip, and it quivered. His eyes glistened with tears and
something close to fear, effectively deflating Mac’s anger.

“Elliot, you have to. They’re your legal
guardians.”

“I want you and Bruiser to be my
guardians.”

“Things like that take time.” Mac sighed
with exasperation. God, she would have cut through the red tape if
she could, but she couldn’t.

“You aren’t even trying. Neither of you.
You’re telling me you are, but you aren’t.”

“Bruiser has an entire team of attorneys on
it.”

Elliot rubbed his eyes with his fists and
hiccupped. “He stands in my doorway and watches me. I pretend to be
asleep, and he goes away. Tonight, he didn’t go away, he came in
after everyone else had gone to bed. When he pulled back the
covers, I grabbed my cell phone and ran.” The dam broke and tears
streamed down Elliot’s blotchy face.

Which totally explained why the Joneses
didn’t want to call the police.

Mac dropped to her knees and wrapped her
arms around Elliot. “Oh, Elliot, I didn’t know. Has he touched
you?”

Elliot shook his head, sobbing
uncontrollably now. “No, and I don’t want him to either. Don’t make
me go back there.”

“I won’t,” she promised. Knowing what she
knew now, Elliot would never be going back to the Joneses. She
wouldn’t allow it, and Bruiser certainly wouldn’t. In fact, she’d
have her hands full stopping him from killing the asshole. If only
she could find Bruiser.

Mac glanced at her watch, frustrated. She
needed Bruiser here. He’d know what to do, and how to fix this.

A few minutes later, Mac heard his beast of
a vehicle in the driveway. She ran out of the house, ready to rage
at him, but something in his weary yet satisfied expression stopped
her cold.

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been trying to call
you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Trudy called, then my
cell went dead, and we’ve been down at the station all night long.
I didn’t want to wake you and—”

“Trudy? The station?” Mac’s mind whirled as
she tried to process his words into something that made sense.

“Yeah, she gave the detectives her
statement. She’s—” Bruiser’s words were cut short by a convoy of
police cars pulling up next door. Illuminated by the orange light
of a rising sun, Mac recognized the lead detective on Will’s case
as he led uniformed men up the front steps, pounded on the door and
yelled for Sonja and Ben to open up. When no one responded, they
broke the door down and entered the house.

Mac grabbed Bruiser’s arm. “What’s
happening?”

Elliot walked onto the porch to watch. “Wow,
look at all those cop cars.”

Bruiser’s brow furrowed as he focused on
Elliot. “Elliot, what are you doing here?”

“That’s why I tried to call you. He ran
away.”

“I didn’t run away. I went on an adventure.”
Elliot wiped his eyes with his T-shirt and put on a brave face.
“Mac says I don’t have to go back.”

Bruiser looked from one to another with an
adorably puzzled frown on his haggard face. He ran his hands
through his already rumpled golden hair and sank down on the front
steps. “Elliot, we’ve had this discussion. I can’t—”

“He isn’t going back.” Mac interrupted
Bruiser.

“I’m missing the meat of this story, aren’t
I?” Bruiser held his hand over his mouth as he yawned.

“Here they come,” Elliot hid behind Bruiser
and grabbed his arm, as the Joneses minivan weaved its way through
cop cars and parked across the street.

Mac clutched Bruiser’s other arm, talking as
fast as she could. “His Uncle has been standing in Elliot’s doorway
late at night. Elliot fakes like he’s asleep. Tonight, after
everyone else was asleep, he approached Elliot’s bed and pulled
back the covers.”