Page 9 of Striker's Foul
“Oh yeah? When did you get so smart?” I tease him as we wait for the light to change. Glancing in the mirror, I see the motorcycle several cars back.
“Is that him? Is that my dad?”
I’ve never lied to my son. I’ve never been able to. But right now, I want to. I want to so badly it makes my stomach ache.
“You don’t have to answer.” Jude’s voice is quiet as he relieves me of that turmoil. “Why didn’t he want me? Where was he?”
“He didn’t know about you.” I give him the simple answer, because it’s true. “He was gone before I could tell him.” I don’t tell him about the money I know he took from Harold to go away.
After learning Luke knows Julian, I suspect they were in the same unit. Julian used to talk to me about them. He called them the elite of the elite. He never shared details about their missions, but I knew they were dangerous. I remember him coming home once and telling me about a member who was killed. He was devastated. Julian blamed himself for so long and still does for that young man’s death. He never shared their names, though. He said it was for their protection and mine.
We pull up to the field, and Jude jumps out of the car. I go to the back to get my chair while he grabs his large bag and gets ready. He heads off to the field, and I move toward the sidelines where I sit and cheer him on. I’ve only missed a handful of games or practices over the years, and it was always because I had classes. Even as an employee of Red Dirt Roadhouse, my papa’s place, I worked my schedule around Jude’s games and practices. For one or two tournaments, I had to use vacation time or go without pay. Papa made sure I was always a motherfirst. He said it’s important for a child to know that his parents will always be there for him. That nothing is more important than them. We had a luxury some don’t, and I feel bad for those parents.
Striker
The kid is all legs and arms. He’s got big feet too, which makes me think he’s probably going to be taller than I am. He’s already a good six foot one. If, like me, he hits a growth spurt in his late teens or early twenties, he’ll definitely be taller. It seems Amelia had a type, because I wasn’t the only tall guy she was with. He’s got dark hair just like mine, though, and the way he moves on the field has me wondering. Could he be? Would she keep that secret from me?
I think about what Harold told me she’d said. What if she was scared and pregnant and lied, saying I raped her instead of telling the truth? I loved her with every fiber of my heart. I would have given up everything just for her if she’d told me she was pregnant.
This kid could go pro easily. He’s got a natural talent I had to be taught. He moves with the ball as if it’s an extension of his body, not just a piece of equipment. He runs fearlessly, sliding to block a kick and popping up so fast he takes control and heads straight for the opposing net. He’s not a glory hound either. He shares the spotlight and doesn’t get upset when other players miss shots he might have made. The part of me that hopes he’s my son gets more excited the more I watch him. I’m beginning to think he just might be.
By the time they’re done, the kid is dripping with sweat. I watch as his petite mom hands him a clean shirt. He pulls it on, slips into a pair of workout pants, and throws a towel over the passenger seat before climbing into the car. He turns and looks at me. For just a moment, something flickers in his eyes. Hurt, maybe anger. His striking blue eyes startle me because I’ve seen them before. I see them every morning when I look in the mirror.
That’s my son.
I’ll find out why my girl kept me from his life. And I’ll find out why my mentor and brother knew but never told me. Instead of following them, I nod to the prospect to take over and head further into town toward the warehouse and art district where Ridley has her office.
I park and look over at Ridley’s house. It’s an old, converted warehouse. Contractors move in and out of the building, updating it to make room for her husband and the fact they’ll be adopting soon. Her adopted daughter, Franci, is married to Gambit now.
Ridley served with Gambit and me. She was in Commander’s unit too. She’s smart and can fight better than most men I know. She’s the epitome of a super soldier. With all the crap she’s been through over the last few years, it’s surprising she found a man she can trust and love.
I head next door to Andreason Black Securities and walk up the metal stairs to the second floor, where the offices are located. The first floor houses all their vehicles, tools, and equipment. Ridley had a flourishing business even before Commander decided to join forces with her. As I step out onto the walkway, I hear my name.
“Striker, my man.”
Browser strides toward me. The shaved-bald, muscle-bound computer geek is a genius. He’s also been a true friend for a longtime. We shake hands and pull into a half hug, thumping each other on the back.
“How you been?” he asks, and I know in that moment he’s been talking to Commander.
“Like shit. Want to tell me how long you’ve known about Amelia and her son?”
“Gosh… Well…” He stumbles over his words and rubs a hand over his head. “Honestly?”
“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I growl. “Is he mine? Tell me.”
“Yes,” he says. “I suspected years ago when we found her, but I didn’t know for sure until I saw the birth certificate.”
“I’m on his birth certificate?”
“Yeah. She might not have told you, but she didn’t deny you.”
“Fuck.” I pull my hair free from the leather wrap and let it fall around my shoulders, pissed that this happened to us. “She did this. If she hadn’t lied, I wouldn’t have had to leave.”
Browser looks over my shoulder. “How do you know she lied? What if she was lied to as well?”
I turn to face Commander, who’s standing behind me. “What do you know?” I demand.
“I won’t tell you,” he says. “You two need to talk.”
