Page 35 of 40-Yard Line

“Honestly? That is part of it,” said Glen, shaking his head. “She kept all the film from the cameras that used to be in the locker room. She has it saved somewhere in her home.”

“What’s the security like?” asked Ghost.

“Definitely better than the team facility. The house is gated, and she has a security guard on duty twenty-four-seven. There are multiple alarms, video cameras, and sensors. Even I can’t get into her house with a key and the alarm codes.”

“Write it down,” said Nine. “All of it. The alarm codes, the entrances, where the cameras are. Write it all down. By the end of today, I want to hear the news telling me that she is now the sole owner of the team and you have left the state. I don’t give a fuck where you go, but it had better be far away from that team and its players.”

Glen nodded, writing down all the information and sliding it across the table.

“I’ll be done by the end of the day. I’ll keep my phone on me. I know you don’t think so, but I truly didn’t want any part of this. I’m sorry, Trevon.”

The young man said nothing, just staring at the other man. As Glen left, Trevon took his seat once again, sipping on his coffee.

“Let me warm it up for you, hun,” smiled Jackie.

“I’m sorry, Miss Jackie. I hope I didn’t scare you,” he whispered.

“I’ve been around all these boys long enough to know that when you lose your tempers, it’s for a good reason. You catch your breath, eat your breakfast, and everything will feel a bit clearer. I just prefer no dead bodies in the café. It’s bad for business.” She kissed the top of his head, and he grinned as she walked away.

“Jackie’s a good woman,” smiled Nine. “Her husband died about five years ago, and she came to us asking for help because she was about to be evicted from her home. It’s one of the many things our team does. We stop slum lords, and other slum, if you know what I mean. We got her set up with something better, a nicer place, and gave her this job. She’s invaluable to all of us.”

“She might have saved his life,” frowned Trevon. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” smirked Ghost. “Now I know if I need someone to help out with security, you’re the man I’m calling.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Mr. Sheffler? Joe Sheffler?” asked Kari. The man turned, leering at her, looking her up and down. He started to step forward, and he felt a grip so severe on his shoulder that he thought he might be having a heart attack.

“You might want to think very carefully about your next move,” said Miller. “You see, that’s my wife, and I don’t like when other men touch my wife.”

Sheffler turned and was surprised when he actually looked up at a man. He was big, but this guy was bigger in every way. He was taller, wider, and the look on his face said, ‘I will kill you.’ He took that seriously.

“Sorry. I meant nothing by it. I’m Joe Sheffler.”

“Good. I’m Kari Robicheaux, and you’ve met my husband. We’d like to speak with you about that hit you made on Butch Cavet.”

He started to turn to leave the coffee shop, and Miller stepped in front of him, Jean and Antoine right behind him.

“Damn. Y’all triplets?”

“Nope,” said Jean.

“I’m not supposed to talk to anyone about it,” he said, shaking his head.

“Did your lawyer tell you that?” asked Kari.

“Lawyer? Fuck no.”

“Then I’m going to guess Glenda Pinken told you to keep your mouth shut after she paid you to make that hit on him.” Kari raised a brow, waiting for his response.

He looked at his coffee and nodded toward a sofa and some chairs. Miller watched him carefully, making sure he didn’t attempt to escape. Between him and his brothers, they would stop him, but this bastard would give a few good hits. He damn sure didn’t want to shoot him.

“How much did she pay you?” asked Kari.

“Seventy-five thousand.”

“Seventy-five thousand to knock a man out of a job,” said Antoine in disbelief, shaking his head.

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