Page 29 of Shark’s Edge

“What’s going on?” Pia had been looking down at her phone when the commotion erupted.

“Jesus Christ.” I shook my head in disbelief. “This asshole.” I motioned to the dad with my chin.

Pia followed my gesture, glaring at the parent. “Oh, him again.” She shook her head. “Every single game he does this to her. Even at practice he berates her. I don’t know why the coach doesn’t say something to him. I think she’s afraid of him too. Poor Naya is in tears more than not.”

“This will be the last time it happens,” I growled. Seemed like I was growling a lot today.

“No, Bas. Don’t get involved. Let Coach handle it,” Pia said, gripping my arm again.

“Like she has been?” I retorted through gritted teeth.

“True.” Pia let go of my arm.

“I’m just going to have a conversation with the asshole after the game. Man to man. No fists. Just words.” My voice was eerily calm, and Pia knew not to argue further.

“Bas.”

Well, I thought she did.

“Dub,” I answered back in the same flat tone.

“I’m serious.” She tried to sound threatening. In any other situation, it would be adorable.

“Oh, I know you are, sister. So am I. He’s a fucking bully. And that’s his own kid.” I pointed my finger furiously at Naya, who was still wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “What if he pulled that shit on Vela one day while one of us wasn’t here?” I raised my eyebrows, letting the question paint a horrible picture in my sister’s imagination.

Pia’s face changed as thoughts of her daughter being accosted by the man took over.

“That’s what I thought,” I muttered half under my breath, but I knew Pia heard me.

We watched the game in silence for a while, and then Pia tugged on my arm again.

“Isn’t that the woman who does the catering at your office?” she asked, pointing midway across the park.

Sure enough, Abbigail Gibson and her business partner, Rio, were hanging a banner on the concessions building advertising something called the Intrepid Entrepreneurs.

The sports park buzzed like a beehive on the weekends with families. Middle- and upper-class folks from nearby neighborhoods attended birthday parties and youth sporting events or were just out enjoying the beautiful Southern California weather.

It was a smart fundraising opportunity for a nonprofit group, and it looked like that was precisely what my sassy little caterer was up to. She and I needed to have a serious heart-to-heart about the food-poisoning incident. Hopefully I could get to her before the police did.

“This couldn’t have worked out better. I need to have a talk with that woman, and seeing her here saves Elijah from having to track down her address. That is what the man gets paid for, but it saves me from having to go to her home . . . Christ”—I closed my eyes in mock horror—“probably in the valley or somewhere equally unpleasant.”

Equally horrifying was the salary a private investigator made in this city. Especially if his talents weren’t being put to good use. The least he could do was track down Abbigail’s home address if I needed him to.

“Oh, stop being such a snob, Bas. There are plenty of lovely people who live in the valley. But maybe you should wait until after the game so you don’t miss anything.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I’ll just go get a bottle of water or something and tell her to hang around afterward so we can talk.” There was no way I wanted her leaving the park without talking to me, but I’d feel terrible if Vela made an epic save and I missed it. “I’ll even wait until halftime to do that.”

“You’re the best uncle on the planet, Bas.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Just as I said those words, my little niece dived across the net and caught a low-flying ball before it made it into the goal. She seemed to surprise even herself when she rolled onto her back, still clutching the black-and-white ball to her stomach. Her other little Blue Jay mates rushed the goal to congratulate her on an excellent save.

“Great work, Keeper!” I hollered through cupped hands. “Yeah, Vela! Nice!”

She grinned widely up to Pia and me in the stands, and we both waved to her frantically. So proud of that little girl. Proud as if she were my own.

Stars danced in my periphery from all the yelling and the afternoon heat. I quickly sank back down and planted my butt on the bleachers.

“Shit.” I wiped my forehead with the hem of my T-shirt.