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As she stalked away, the coach stared at the four men, shaking his head.

“Y’all got some balls, that’s for damn sure. That woman would put a bullet in your head if she thought it would help her.”

“Well, she just might have to do that,” said Ian. “Let’s go. We have a game to win. Sort of.”

Every man knew enough about football to know the basic warm-up drills that needed to happen. For all his guilt, Kurt took control as captain of the team and was doing a damn fine job. When the referees walked out on the field, Gaspar nudged the coach.

“This is where it gets fun,” he smiled. Whiskey, Antoine, Bull, Miller, and Luc were wearing the black and white uniforms of the referees. Along the sidelines, acting as sideline judges, were Vince, Dex, Clay, and Mac.

“Who are they? You know what,” he said, raising his hands, “I don’t think I want to know. You didn’t hurt the refs, did you?”

“They’ll live,” smirked Ian.

“What about the stuff that Glen said she had in her house? You guys said that he told you there was a ton of evidence out there. She’ll burn it all before we can get to her.”

“No, she won’t,” said Nine. “I need you to trust me. She will not get away with any of this.”

“Did you kill him?” asked Sly, looking over at Baptiste and Rafe.

“Why does everyone ask us that? No, we didn’t kill him. He’s just going to have a helluva headache when he wakes up,” said Rafe. “Let’s go. Did you block the signals on the alarm?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that?” smirked Sly. Baptiste and Rafe frowned at him. “Yes. It’s blocked. Pick the damn lock. The cameras are down as well, plus the sensors are inactivated.”

The system of locks and alarms on Glenda’s home was impressive but not impenetrable. It seemed an awfully large home for one woman, but they were assured she had no men in her life, no children, no women, and no staff. She preferred a non-witnesses sort of lifestyle.

“Office is over here,” said Baptiste. “Got two safes.”

“Let me work my magic,” said Sly. It took him longer than usual, but within twenty minutes, both safes were open, and the stacks of materials inside were so damning Glenda would never see the light of day.

“Let’s go. We need to get this to the stadium.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Folks, I’m not sure where they got the replacement defensive players today, but they are ruling the field. The Mustangs are hurting out there, and nothing seems to be working for them.”

“Great hit,” laughed Noah, slapping Noa’s back.

“It was my specialty,” he grinned. “I think that boy thought I was his mother.”

On the next play, one of the offensive linemen for the Mustangs thought he would get in a cheap shot, trying to thrust his fist upward into Tailor’s windpipe. Instead, he was met with an iron grip and pain that was unimaginable.

“Now, see. That wasn’t called for,” said Tailor, squeezing his hand. “You try to take a cheap shot on me, I’m gonna return the favor.” He twisted his wrist, forcing him to the ground. With his other hand flat on the grass, Tailor stepped on the back of his hand, satisfied that he wouldn’t be using it again for a while.

“Man, I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” grinned RJ.

“Me, too,” laughed Zeke. “Let’s see if they’re stupid enough to pass.”

It was as if they could read the plays coming their way. The quarterback for the Mustangs threw a long ball to his receiver, and despite their age, RJ and Zeke were there to intercept. RJ tackled the offensive player, and Zeke took off, scoring another touchdown for the Fire.

The entire defensive line turned toward the owners’ box, looking up and waving in defiance, then they flipped her the bird.

“Who in the hell are they!” she screamed. Except she was screaming at no one. No one that mattered. Those around her just looked at her, not saying a word. “I asked you a question!”

“I’m just a marketing guy, Glenda. Remember? I don’t give opinions.” He turned, leaving the suite and leaving Glenda absolutely furious.

“Here we go, Chip. The Fire kicks off, and the Mustangs are taking it at the eighteen. Oh. My. Goodness! I don’t know who that defensive player is for the Fire, but that man just sent that poor receiver into next week! Where has this team been all year?”

“Stop the game,” said Glenda, pushing open the doors of the press box. The announcer turned off the mic and stared at her. “I said stop the game!”

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