His Brother's Keeper. Dawn Atkins
In a menacing-looking ring rimmed by chain-link, not ropes, a Latino as big as a linebacker fought a short boy in a padded helmet. The man had to be the coach, Gabriel Cassidy.
She walked closer and saw the guy was all muscle. He was dressed like a professional fighter in black nylon shorts and a tank top. His skin, the color of mocha, was shiny with sweat. Add to that black, shaggy hair, a large tattoo on his forearm and a menacing expression on what she could make out of his face, and she could maybe see how parents might be intimidated by him.
No excuse to call the man a gangster, but prejudice was insidious.
She got close enough to see details—the gold cross around his neck, the twining muscles on his shoulders. And that tattoo. It was an image of a young fighter with his fists up. The face looked so familiar....
It was Robert. Electricity jolted her. Her gaze shot to the man’s face. She recognized him, too. “G?” she blurted, totally stunned.
Startled, he let down his guard. The boy landed a punch to his jaw. G didn’t react to that, only stared at her in shock. “Cici?”
Robert had started calling her that. Fe-li-ci-ty is too damn white and too damn long.
Gabriel Cassidy was Robert’s brother? “But your last name is Ochoa…” she said, her mind slowing to sludge.
“I changed it to my mother’s,” he replied flatly, giving her the same hateful glare he had at Robert’s funeral when she’d mumbled her sympathy to his mother and little sisters. Why had he hated her so much?
He still seemed to. Felicity’s cheeks burned. The air practically buzzed with tension.
“Coach?” the boy spoke from behind.
“Hit the bag, Victor,” G said, keeping his eyes on Felicity. He didn’t speak until the boy was gone. “What are you doing here?”
His tone made her want to apologize, even though he was the one who didn’t belong. “I’m the new principal.”
“The what?” His head shifted back in surprise. “You’re replacing Charlie?”
She bristled. Yet another person who doubted her. “Yes. Is that a problem for you?”
“No.” He seemed to realize how rude he’d been and softened his tone. “Charlie’s a friend and he didn’t deserve to get fired.” He stared at her, clearly sorting a dozen thoughts at once. “Congratulations on the job, I guess.”
That was supposed to make her feel better?
“Thank you, I guess.” Despite her irritation and shock, she couldn’t help comparing the man before her with the one she’d last seen fifteen years ago. His square jaw, straight nose, strong mouth and storm-dark eyes seemed more striking, as if he’d grown into his features. He’d been big before, and confident, but now he was all muscle and totally in charge.
And very, very hot. She couldn’t help but notice that.
He took his own quick survey of her. Interest flared, then got put out, as if by a bucket of water. “What can I do for you?” He didn’t even try to smile.
“For starters, I couldn’t find a copy of our lease with you.”
“That’s because there isn’t one. Charlie wasn’t using the space so he offered it to me.”
“Okay.... Then how much rent do you pay?”
He shifted his weight, foot to foot, now looking uneasy. “Since I train some Discovery students, there’s no charge.”
“How many from Discovery?” She looked around the gym. Plenty of the twenty-some boys pounding the crap out of each other looked high-school age.
“Maybe ten. The rest come from North Central High.”
A short boy with fierce eyes approached them. “Can I fight Brian? I know I can beat him.”
“Then you know what you need to know. Fight above yourself, not below. And you’re supposed to be coaching.” G glanced around, his gaze landing on a boy huddled over a textbook. “Devin! Get your ass over here.”
The boy looked up. “But I’ve got math.”
“That’s why they call it homework. Alex will train takedowns with you.”
“Not him again,” Alex mumbled.
“What did I tell you? The master—”
“Learns from the pupil. Yeah.” He sighed.
Devin approached and G gripped his shoulder. “You lookin’ to get tossed in another Dumpster, homes?” The boy shook his head. “Then work on your hapkido escapes with Alex.” The two boys walked away.
G had made the boy quit his schoolwork to practice fighting? Unreal.
“So is that it?” G asked her. “Are we done?”
Almost. He had no lease and he paid no rent. All she had to do was tell him to leave. But that seemed too abrupt. “I can see you’re busy. When you finish for the day, stop by my office.”
“Can’t. Sorry. Got another job to get to.” His tone was dismissive, as though she was an annoyance, a fly buzzing over his sandwich.
“I won’t keep you long,” she said. “Stop by.” She didn’t wait for his response, simply left the gym for her office, but she felt his eyes on her all the way to the door.
It was so strange to see him now. Being back in Phoenix— especially in March—had brought Robert constantly to mind. The robbery had happened on March 4, three days away. And Robert’s funeral had fallen on the same date two years later.
She remembered walking toward the church, aware of all the new life—swollen buds on the cacti, tender leaves on the mesquite trees, baby quail like puff balls, scurrying after their parents beneath the sage hedges, and everywhere the perfume of orange blossoms.
Meanwhile, inside the dim, incense-heavy chapel, all was lifeless and still. Even the flowers that surrounded Robert’s casket, deceptively bright and vibrant, were dying. To this day, she regretted she’d let G intimidate her so much that she hadn’t dared go to the cemetery for a final goodbye.
And now, fifteen years later, here he was again. It all came back. Her hurt and anger at his hatred. Her guilt and remorse over what had happened with Robert.
And something else she hadn’t quite grasped until now.
She was still attracted to him.
The stupid truth was that she’d had a crush on G back then. He’d been seventeen to her fourteen, and tough and sexy and serious. Even though all he did was boss Robert around and give Felicity looks of disdain, she liked when he was there. He made her feel safe.
G was strong and smart and responsible. G did the right thing.
He’d helped her once. After a terrible fight with her mother, she’d swiped her mother’s keys and driven to Robert’s house, even though she’d been behind the wheel only twice and that had been sitting on Robert’s lap.
Misjudging a turn, she’d hit a streetlight, denting her mother’s Ford car. They were barely getting by. A car repair would have made her mother go ballistic. Already, they fought constantly.
“Are you hurt?”
She’d looked up from the steering wheel to find G leaning in her window. She shook her head, fought to hide her tears. He’d motioned her to the passenger side, then, without a word, drove her to a body shop and had a friend hammer out the dent. He’d even bought her a Slurpee while she waited and pretended he didn’t see her crying.
When they got to the house, he’d turned to her. “Don’t be stupid, chica.” His gaze had been as physical as a punch and it took her breath away. She saw that he wanted her.