Page 47 of 40-Yard Line

“We’ll move along in a minute,” said the old woman in front of her.

“Move now! Do you know who I am? Move these animals now, or I’ll run them over, killing them and you!”

“Well, you could try,” smirked Sniff, “but they weigh more than your pretty car, so it would do a lot of damage to it, not them.” He was lying, of course. If she hit them hard enough, it would cause a lot of damage to the animals.

“Move those damn buffalo!” she screamed. She felt something slither around her waist and screamed, trying to break free.

“Oh, that’s not a buffalo,” smiled Lucy, “that’s an elephant.”

“This is a nightmare. A damn nightmare! Let me go!” she yelled. An old woman walked toward her in an absurd yellow raincoat and rain boots. She stopped at the elephant’s trunk, patting him gently.

“That’s a good boy,” she smiled. “You? Not so much.” Glenda stared at the old woman, wondering who in the hell she was.

“Do you have any idea…”

“… who you are… Yeah, yeah,” laughed Irene. “I know who you are, and I know that you hurt one of my boys.”

“One of your boys? Do you have a son who plays for me?” she asked, squinting in the pelting rain.

“He did. He’s mine now. My son and I will defend him to the end. In fact, I will defend all the boys that suffered at your hands, which is why you aren’t going anywhere.”

“You can’t hold me like this! Put me down!” Irene gave a signal to the elephant, who squeezed a little tighter, causing Glenda to cry out in pain.

“Okay, okay!”

“Good. That’s good. You’re learning about who is really in charge,” said Irene. “My boys will be here soon to take you away to a place where you belong.”

“I won’t go to jail,” she smirked.

“Oh, honey. I ain’t that kind of Grandma. You ain’t goin’ to jail. You’re goin’ to hell.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

“I’m telling you, Chris, this has been the strangest week in sports I’ve seen in my entire career. Glenda Pinken, former owner of the New Orleans Fire, was found dead of an apparent suicide in her home with a signed suicide note.”

“I know, Ed. Weird indeed. She admitted to trying to kill players for cash, attempting to buy an NFL team, and admitting her knowledge of the chemical hazards at the facility. So many players are now facing years of treatment because of her cruelty.”

“Well, I guess that couldn’t have ended any better,” smiled Gaspar.

“I would have liked for her to face a public trial,” said Trevon. “I wanted her to face all the people she thought loved her and see the hatred in their eyes. But. I understand why you did what you did. That’s not a woman that deserved to live.”

“If you think about all the time and money that would have been spent on bringing her to trial, this really was the better way,” said Nine.

“I know, I know,” he nodded. “What about y’all? Have you been able to keep your identity secret?”

“We have,” nodded Ghost. “We made sure our faces were disguised. Our tech team is the best at messing with anything electronic. They overlayed other faces on ours while we were in camera view. None of our men removed their helmets at any time, so that helped the situation big time.”

“Well, I’m gonna head down to the nursery. Miss Noelle has me moving some trees today and planting some new things out in the west garden.”

“Wait a minute,” said Nine. “Come with us.”

Trevon followed the men in the ATVs as they moved around the main property, finally coming to a beautiful Acadian-style cottage.

“What’s this?” he asked. “Sure is pretty. Love the azaleas out front and the porch swing. Always wanted a porch swing, but I was afraid it would bust under my weight.” He laughed, and the others laughed as well.

“I can guarantee that this one will hold your weight,” smiled Gaspar.

“Sir?” he said, frowning.

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