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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781509231850 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Wild Rose Press |
| Publication date: | 07/29/2020 |
| Pages: | 316 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.66(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Chapter One Kenneth MacKinnon unsheathed his sword. It shone like liquid gold in the dark corridor of the castle as he burst through the door. A wall of flames greeted him, forcing him back. A woman screamed. He gripped the hilt of his blade and slashed through the wall of flames that engulfed the chamber. They were parted by the blade's passage. He must reach her in time.
She stood with her back toward him, her waist-length hair was the color of the flames that surrounded her. His heart thundered in his chest over the roar of the fire. Somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of a man's voice.
"There will be a forty percent chance of rain in the greater Seattle area today..."
Mac awoke with a start and wrenched free of the nightmare. He could almost feel the heat of the fire. He rubbed his eyes and looked over at the radio alarm clock. It was 8 A.M. He had plenty of time before the boys' practice started. The DJ's voice droned on about some traffic accident on the 520 floating bridge. Mac reached over and shut off the news, grateful that he didn't have to fight the traffic. He hated the congestion. That was the reason he'd bought the penthouse in Belltown's Seattle Heights building. He enjoyed living in the city and being close to the stadium.
He felt the bedcovers move. Cindy was waking up.
She rubbed her eyes. "You were restless last night. I had a hard time getting to sleep."
He looked over at her. "Sorry, Cindy. It was just a bad dream."
Mac ducked as a pillow sailed past his head.
"I prefer Cynthia. Why can't you remember? You're barely thirty. Too young for memory loss. You don't seem to have a problemremembering the names of all those kids you coach." She tossed her long, blond hair over her shoulder. "My psychic friend tells me there's a reason you keep forgetting."
"I have a lot on my mind, that's all. Besides, those kids in the shelters need me."
Cindy twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "You're such a boy scout. You can't help every stray cat that comes your way."
"I can try." The huge salary he was paid as quarterback for Seattle's pro football team, the Warriors, had its benefits. He had the time and money to do what he wanted. If he spent some of it on the shelter kids, that was his choice.
"Let's not fight." She smiled. "I need to ask you a question."
Her voice had the singsong quality that always meant she wanted something. After six months together, he'd at least learned that much about her. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm listening."
She leaned closer to him. "I realize you'd just as soon spend the evening in a sports bar, but we've been invited to the opening of that new French restaurant on Pike Street next Saturday. It will be good for your image."
He doubted anyone cared where he ate as long as he got the job done on the field. He shook his head. "I don't care where we go."
Cindy continued in a rush of breathy words. "Terrific, but I'll need something new to wear. You don't have a game until tomorrow. We could go shopping as soon as the stores open."
"I can't pick out women's clothes. Buy anything you like."
Cindy threw the bedcovers off and jumped off the bed. "Okay, I'll see you later."
He watched her head for the bathroom: no kiss, no thanks, Mac. Nothing. Just the clinging smell of the gardenia perfume she wore.
He didn't blame her. She'd expected a celebrity who liked to party until dawn. He'd wanted someone who...Hell, he didn't know what he wanted.
He sat up and got out of bed. The remnants of his dream replayed in his mind. Odd, normally he didn't remember much of his dreams. And who was the woman? An ex-girlfriend? He reached for his sweatpants that were slung over a chair and pulled them on. It was strange. He had the feeling he knew her.
The phone rang. Mac reached over to the nightstand and picked up the receiver. He recognized the voice on the other end.
"Hey Mac, this is Jed. I can't coach the boys at practice today. My daughter's sick. Can you do it alone?"
"Sure. Nothing to it. How is Mary? Anything serious?"
"No, just a bad cold. But I don't want to bring her to practice and Sarah has to work. Do you have enough extra footballs and gear?"
"I have two or three rooms full."
Jed laughed. "I almost forgot. Hey, what do you want to do about the media?"
"I already told them to stay away. I don't want the boys distracted. This is about them, not me."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Mac heard Jed ask Mary if she wanted him to read her a story. He couldn't hear her response, but he was willing to bet it was a yes. Mary was only four years old, but already she had a love of books. It was the result of her parents' influence and hard work. He wondered if he would have the patience.
Jed cleared his throat. "Hey buddy, gotta go. Talk to you soon. Good luck at the game. I'll be watching you on TV tomorrow."
"Thanks." Mac hung up the phone and walked over to the window. He and Jed had been friends since college. Wow, that was almost ten years ago. Their paths had taken different turns. Jed was an engineer at Boeing and Mac played pro football. Mac had received all the fame, but he'd trade places with Jed in a heartbeat. Jed and his wife Sarah were busy making plans for their future with Mary, while Mac's future was measured in terms of pass completions.
He folded his arms across his chest and looked out the window. The view was great. It was another reason he'd bought the place. He had a three hundred and sixty degree view of Seattle. From his living room he could see the Space Needle and from his bedroom, Puget Sound. Sunlight sparkled over the water as a ferryboat made its way to Bainbridge Island. The sights were beautiful, but up this high he felt isolated from what was going on down on the streets.
He heard the water in the shower turn on and it reminded him that Cindy was still here. He guessed she wasn't any happier than he was. It was probably why she always wanted to go out where there were a lot of people. It meant less time they'd have to spend alone together.
He looked down and to his right. The bakery and fresh produce trucks were making their way down the narrow streets to Pike Place Market. He could almost smell the coffee from up here. He glanced over at the clock. It was only 8:20 A.M. If he hurried he could grab a bagel and cup of coffee at the gourmet coffee shop at Second and Lenora before he met the boys at 9 A.M.
Of late he'd done a lot of thinking about how his life had turned out. The pace was too fast. He wished it would slow down. Maybe that was the reason he'd had such a strange dream and why he'd been doing so much thinking about Jed and Sarah. Their relationship was special. It wasn't easy to find the kind of connection his friends shared.
One thing he knew for sure: he didn't believe in love anymore. After all, he'd tried it enough times. Finding a person to share your life with wasn't for everyone. It was just an elaborate hoax concocted by the greeting card companies.
The morning was crisp and clear as Mac walked past the Space Needle toward Memorial Stadium. Steady traffic streamed by, but despite the number of cars it was pretty quiet. People seldom honked their horns in Seattle. He smiled. It was one of the unwritten rules, along with acquiring a taste for lattés and buying stock in Microsoft.
He finished his coffee as he approached the field and tossed the container into the garbage can. Mac walked onto the AstroTurf. Fifteen young boys between the ages of ten and twelve crowded around him, all yelling his name. He held up his hand for silence and smiled. He was only able to reserve Memorial Stadium for two hours before a soccer team came in and he wanted every minute with his kids to count.
"Jed can't make it here today. Mary's sick. So you're stuck with me."
Another cheer.
He laughed. Working with these young men was one of the highlights of his weekend. He motioned for them to follow him. "Okay, you know the drill, twice around the field to warm up." He heard them moan and groan, but there were no outright sounds of mutiny. He took off at a slow jog to let them all catch up with him and was immediately flanked by a handful of the kids.
Tommy, the smallest of the boys, rubbed his dripping nose with his sleeve. "Are you gonna win tomorrow?"
Mac smiled. "You bet."
David, a dark-haired boy, nudged closer. "My dad says the Warriors don't have a chance against the California Wolves."
Mac shrugged. "That's what makes it interesting. No one thinks we'll win."
Tommy tugged on Mac's arm. "Sort of like us, Coach."
Mac nodded. "Exactly."
At first no one had expected his ragtag bunch of kids from the Helping Hand Shelter to do well against the other youth football clubs, but they were slowly gaining respect as a solid team. Mac stepped up the pace a notch as he rounded the corner of the field. He wanted them to be in shape for the tournament that started next Saturday. He considered this his team, even though Jed was the head coach. Mac did too much traveling and only helped out when he was in town. It was hard to believe that they'd been doing this since their college days.
David edged closer. His words came out in ragged bursts as he tried to run and talk at the same time. "Hey, you never told us how you got your name. My dad says it's because tackling you is like trying to push over a Mack truck."
Mac laughed. "Tell your dad I got my nickname the semester I spent at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland. The friends I met there shortened my last name, MacKinnon, to Mac."
David's eyes widened. "Wow. You were in Scotland? Did you ever wear those fancy skirts?"
Mac smiled. "You mean kilts? No, never."
He slowed down and waited for the rest of the boys to catch up to him. They circled around him. "This next Saturday we'll be facing a team that is undefeated."
Tommy raised his voice. "Like the Wolves?"
"Right. But we can work that to our advantage. The team you'll play will be overconfident. They've won this tournament the last three years. But I've watched them play. They're good. I think you guys are better. You have more speed. We're going to use that to beat them."
The boys all cheered. They played for the love of the game: no hype, no agents, no media.
David smiled. "We'll crush them."
Mac nodded. "I couldn't have said it better myself. Okay, let's get started." He reached for the bag and pulled out a football. "Tommy, go long."
The boy ran toward the center of the field as Mac threw the ball. Tommy caught it. Mac smiled. It was a good sign. David was right. His team was going to crush their competition on Saturday.
Mac looked toward the sky. Clouds were gathering overhead. The weather was changing. It would be cold and wet tomorrow at the game. It would make it harder for his receivers to catch a slippery football. Mac shrugged. Well, he'd just have to make sure all his passes were accurate. Besides, his mom used to say that the more difficult the odds, the better he liked the challenge.
Fluorescent lights flooded Husky Stadium. Mac stood on the sidelines with his teammates as the coin was tossed. Now it was time to see if the adults could play as well as the boys had at practice yesterday. Jed would've been proud. But now Mac had to take care of business.
He was anxious for the game to start. A thick fog rolled in off Lake Washington and hung in the air. It was hard to see the far stands. The weather was unusual, even for rain-drenched Seattle. The breeze
was charged with electricity as the ball was kicked, signaling the start of the game. He breathed in the air, feeling invincible. Harrison returned the kick-off, giving Mac and the offense good field position at the forty-two.
The Wolves might be undefeated, but once again he would bring home a victory against impossible odds. He had built his reputation on getting the job done and that's what he was paid for. With it came all the notoriety and the hangers-on. The familiar emptiness darkened his mood. He shrugged it off and focused on the game. That was all that really mattered.
The stadium vibrated with the roar of the crowd as he walked onto the field. The fans were all on their feet, chanting his name. Blood pounded through his veins and thundered in his ears. He was ready.
With play after play he moved his team upfield until it was fourth and goal. He looked at Coach Rivets and waited. After a long moment, the coach gave the go-ahead and waved off the special team. Mac turned to the huddle. A hush fell over the field as they broke and Mac took his position behind Johnson. He dried his hands on the center's towel.
He noticed he'd forgotten to take off his Super Bowl ring. He'd have to remove it when he returned to the sidelines.
He checked the line. Every man was set. There'd be no offsides, they all knew how important this was. The defense looked determined and angry. He would be too after losing fifty yards in eight plays. The football was snapped clean on the count. He dropped back and avoided a lineman. Mac searched for Griffin. Two more counts and he'd be open in the end zone as planned. The Wolves had misjudged the Warriors' newest play.
The fog was getting as thick as beer foam despite the thin, soaking rain. A linebacker blindsided him and drove him to the ground. He made sure the ball was still in his hands. Damn. He hadn't even had a chance to throw it.
He was pinned against the AstroTurf. The faces of the players blurred. He felt dizzy, sick to his stomach. Hell, he hoped it wasn't another concussion. The sound of the crowd became garbled as if they were a long way away. The dizziness increased. He fought to stay conscious as the energy seeped from his body.
Copyright © 1999