Page 110 of Recipe for Rivals

The door swung open. Patty stood there in her maroon scrubs, her white, shoulder length hair tucked behind her ears. “Dusty,” she said loudly. “What can I do for you?”

I noticed she didn’t greet Travis.

“We’ve got the silent auction going on at the school tonight, ma’am, and we’re missing Brody. Any chance he’s home?”

She hesitated.

I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and alert the dad that we were here with backup, so I hoped she could read the expression in my eyes and trust me. “I’ll have him home at a decent time.”

“Yes, of course,” she said in a rush. “We’ve had a bit of a day around here, but he was planning on being there. I’m sorry he’s late.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Brody,” she called, not moving from the front door. “Coach Hayes is here to take you to the fundraiser.”

We waited in silence for another minute, the three of us holding our breath. When Brody stepped from the hallway, he had a hoodie pulled low over his face. “I don’t want to go.”

Patty stiffened. “You’ll do as you’re told.”

“But—”

“Brody,” she snapped.

He made a frustrated sound. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, but it was easy to see that he didn’t want to step past his grandma.

What could I say to put him at ease? The kid didn’t need to come to the fundraiser, not really, but he needed to be out of this house so we could remove the real threat. “You need to assist this evening if you want to be allotted your portion of the proceeds, same as everyone else.” Even as the words left my mouth, they felt hollow. Brody had put more work into the event than anyone else on the team, and we both knew that.

He glanced up in surprise, and I got a good look at the fresh bruise spreading down his cheekbone.

I saw red.

Travis put a hand on my forearm, sensing my need to charge into the house and lay a fist on that good-for-nothing waste of space parading as a parent. But more violence was never the answer to violence. Never.

“Why don’t you walk Brody to the truck so I can speak to Mrs. McAllister?” Travis asked.

“Sure.” I flicked my head toward the sidewalk. “Come on.”

“Don’t dawdle,” Travis whispered. “Flash your brights when he’s safe.”

I didn’t need clarification to know he wanted me to signalHank. Travis hadn’t worn a walkie-talkie. Brody’s slow steps were almost painful. By the time we reached my truck, I was ready to throw the kid over my shoulder and bolt. He didn’t know it, but he wasn’t stepping foot back in that house until it was safe to do so. I didn’t care if he and his grandma had to move in with me. If I could help it, his dad would never lay a hand on him again.

“Get in the back,” I said quietly, leaning through the door to flash my lights.

Brody looked at me with confusion, then did as he was told.

“Hey, Brody,” Nova said from the back row. “You want a fruit snack?”

I couldn’t help the smallest of smiles as I climbed into the driver’s seat and watched the house. Or the way my smile grew when I heard the crinkling of the wrapper as Brody took it and popped a few in his mouth.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” he asked.

“Is your dad in there, Brody?”

He went quiet.

“You aren’t in trouble, but I need to know.”

“Yeah,” he said.

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