Читать книгу Small-Town Secrets - Linda Randall Wisdom - Страница 7

“We are the Wildcats, mighty, mighty Wildcats!” The cheers sent a rumble throughout the bleachers and beyond. Trumpets sounded the charge.

“It’s been a hell of a game,” Scott Fitzpatrick remarked, keeping his arm tight around his wife’s waist. He nuzzled her neck. “Hey, sexy, wanna relive your teen years and go behind the bleachers and make out?”

Bree laughed throatily. She pushed him away, but the smile on her lips promised there would be no pushing away later that night. “And get caught like we did the last time? Remember how mortified Sara was when she heard about it? She went on and on, saying how dare we old folks do such things in public? Besides, you don’t want to miss seeing your son make the winning touchdown, do you?”

“Hell, no.” Fitz chuckled, keeping his hand tucked into the back pocket of her jeans.

Bree gave him a bump with her hip as they walked past the concession stand. To look at him in his faded jeans and sweatshirt, no one would guess he was a highly respected FBI Special Agent in Charge. With her working as a homicide detective for the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department, it was said they were the rare pair who made it work in more ways than one.

Bree liked to tease him they were probably the rare instance of local law enforcement and the feds working together extremely well.

After eight years of marriage, the man still made her heart thump the way it had the first time she met him. He complained his hair was graying at a faster rate than he’d like, but she always reminded him that the fire in the furnace burned brightly no matter how much snow was on the roof.

With his son and daughter from a previous marriage, and their own shared son, they made a close-knit family that blended well.

Bree was celebrating the wrap-up of a tough case and was eager to watch her stepson help win the league championship. She’d turned to say something to Fitz when she noticed his gaze focused toward a dark corner. The curse that dropped from his lips would have cost him a five dollar bill in the family Cuss Jar.

“What?”

“Looks like a drug buy going down,” he murmured.

Bree kept a smile on her lips, but her expression had turned all-cop.

“Anyone we know?”

“That kid I said looks like a moron? The one who was hanging around Sara.”

“You’ve called every boy who’s even talked to her a moron.” Bree slid her gaze sideways, now seeing what he did. There was no doubt the boy was handing over a few plastic bags of pills to another boy, who gave him several bills. Damn, not one security officer around.

“Wanna be my backup?” he asked.

“Since this is more my jurisdiction than yours, it’s more like you’d be mine.” She thought of her weapon, nestled comfortably in the small of her back. Since she’d come directly from the station, she refused to leave her weapon in her SUV, even with it locked. “Nobody’s taken anything over state lines, bud.”

“He’s mine.” Fitz moved forward. “Sorry, guys, you’re busted. FBI,” he called out, just as he reached them. “Just stand easy and it will be painless for everyone.”

Bree saw the dark flash of metal before Fitz did. She instantly reached for her weapon.

“Gun!” she shouted, swinging her weapon up. “L.A. Sheriff! Put it down! Put it down now!” she screamed, infusing her voice with authority.

The boy swung around, saw her, and panic filled his face. He looked at Fitz and shot. Bree fired her gun just as the boy shot at her.

She felt the fire enter her chest the same moment she saw Fitz drop to his knees. The stunned look on his face told her he hadn’t fully realized what had just happened.

But she knew. There was too much blood flowing out of him. The bullet must have nicked an artery, because with every heartbeat, more blood gushed. She tried to get to him, but her body failed her. All she could reach was the tip of his finger.

As the world turned dark around her, she heard the screams and the roar of the crowd.

“Touchdown!”