Nobody’s Hero Page 7

  “She thinks you’re Captain America.”

  “What?” Would he ever not be confused around this family?

  “Cap’in ‘Merca,” Veronica agreed.

  Danny took the DVD case from Brad and looked at it more closely. “You know, I can kind of see it. You’ve got this all-American wholesome look going for you.”

  “Ah...thanks?”

  “And Chris Evans is hot.”

  “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

  Danny shrugged. “No response necessary. It is what it is.”

  Veronica tugged at his hand. “Play?”

  “Veronica,” Danny said, resting his hands on his hips and looking at the pile of DVDs. He was trying to look stern.

  She let out such a put upon sigh Brad had to bite back a grin. She picked up the discarded cases and set them on the shelf. Brad fought the urge to arrange them alphabetically. Veronica slammed the cabinet door when she was done and then grabbed his hand. “Play now?”

  Danny bit his lip. “Vero, I’m sure Brad wants to hang out with people his own age.”

  “Actually,” Brad said before Veronica’s lip could quiver, “I think Veronica should introduce me to all of her brothers and sisters and cousins.” He smiled down at her. “I need someone to show me around.” And more importantly, Veronica wouldn’t ask any uncomfortable questions about his family or try to set him up with a pretty girl.

  She beamed at him and tugged him back to the kitchen. Danny shook his head at Brad as he followed him and Veronica. “You’re in for it now. I think she’s got a crush.”

  “She’s pretty irresistible,” Brad said. When they crossed the threshold into the kitchen, Brad came to a halt. “Oh, hey.” He pulled away from Veronica. “Let me get the door for you.”

  Mrs. Ortega was at the door, one foot propping it open, holding a platter the size of a coffee table piled high with ears of corn.

  “I’ve got it,” Danny said, stepping around Brad. “You can go play with Vero.” He hefted the platter out of his mother’s hands.

  She patted Danny’s cheek. “Thanks, mi hijo.” She stepped back and held the door.

  Over the next hour, Brad met a couple dozen more people. Nobody seemed to think it strange that he spent his time with the kids, who all appeared to enjoy playing with him.

  “Argh!” he bellowed in mock outrage as four kids, none of whom came any higher than his hips, tackled him. He allowed himself to tumble to the ground under their combined weight, shifting his knee at the last minute to avoid landing on a tiny hand. “I am defeated!” He groaned and flung his arms above his head. “I surrender!”

  “Here I come to save the day!”

  Brad peeked through a gap in the wall of children to see Danny swooping in, arms held wide like he was flying. Danny grabbed one little boy off the top of the pile and swung him around before depositing him back on the grass. The boy giggled. “No fair!”

  “I’ve got top secret orders from la general to rescue the captain. It’s time to eat.” Danny deepened his voice to make this pronouncement.

  With that news, the small people fled. Somebody, and Brad couldn’t have put a name to him, tripped over Brad’s arm and landed elbow first onto Brad’s stomach. All the air whooshed out of his lungs. He lifted the boy—who, upon closer inspection, he guessed was the one called Juan Carlos—and set him safely on the grass even as he jerked into a sitting position.

  Danny held a hand out to him. Brad grabbed it and hauled himself to his feet. He didn’t need help, but he couldn’t resist the chance to hold Danny’s hand, if only for a second.

  “C’mon,” Danny said, slapping Brad on the back. “La general has spoken. It’s time to eat.”

  “La general?” Brad asked, stumbling over the pronunciation.

  “Yeah.” Danny pointed to a group of women sitting in lawn chairs and eating off paper plates. “Mi mamá. Nobody messes with her.”

  After loading up their plates, Danny led the way to a group of people about their age.

  “I think all the chairs are taken. You want to pop a squat in the grass over there?” He pointed next to Connie and her boyfriend.

  “Sure.”

  Danny made introductions. Besides Connie, the others included her boyfriend Bobby, Connie’s brother Manny and his girlfriend Paige, and another cousin, Tommy. There was no way he’d be able to keep all the names straight.

  Brad had barely taken a bite when a small form settled in next to him.

  “Are you the Pied Piper or something?” Danny looked pointedly at the line of kids who’d come to sit with them. Veronica sat at Brad’s right, and a handful of others—the ones he’d been playing with earlier—all tried to sit as close to him as they could.

  “Well, hello there.”

  “Will you play wif us again after we eat?” Juan Carlos asked with a lisp caused by a missing front tooth.

  “Sure. What do you want to play?”

  “Soccer,” suggested a little boy who was older than Veronica but younger than Juan Carlos. Brad couldn’t judge any of their ages accurately, but he was pretty sure he was getting them in the right order chronologically at least.

  “Soccer?” he asked.

  “Yeah!”

  Since it looked like all of the kids were in agreement, Brad said, “Sure. I think we can do that. Do we have a soccer ball?”

  “Yes,” Juan Carlos said, jumping to his feet.

  “Stop.”

  Juan Carlos turned his big brown eyes up to look at Danny. “I was just gonna get the ball.”

  Danny pointed at the boy’s plate. “Eat first. The ball isn’t going anywhere.”

  Juan Carlos scowled at his plate. “The big kids will get it first.”

  Brad looked at Danny, who shrugged. “Sometimes the bigger kids—”

  “Ahem.” Connie arched her brow and smirked at Danny.

  “—sometimes the really big kids grab the ball first and then the little ones are left out.”

  “On behalf of the little kids,” Brad said, “I’m calling dibs on the soccer ball.”

  * * *

  The plates had been cleared away and the kids—there were ten of them—split into two teams. Danny didn’t normally play with the little ones, but he’d let himself be talked into joining one of the teams so Brad could join the other. Watching Brad with the kids was kind of fun. It was like he didn’t work so hard to stay separate.

  “Go, Avengers!”

  The sudden shout from five kids and one adult burst in the air. On the other side of the lawn, where two paper plates had been weighed down to represent the goal box, Brad and his team pumped their fists in the air and charged to the center point of the yard.

  Something tugged at the hem of Danny’s shorts. “Do we have a name?” His seven-year-old cousin Alex stared up at him.

  “Of course we do,” he said, racking his brain for a good choice. “We’re the Autobots.”

  “Yes! I get to be Optimus Prime!”

  “Not a chance, short stuff. I’m Optimus Prime. You can be Bumblebee.”

  “Nuh-uh! Let Ruby be Bumblebee.”

  “Okay, you can be Ratchet.”

  “Cool!”

  “Okay, guys, let’s do this.” Danny looked over his team. “Ruby, you and Jacob guard the goal. Nathan, your job is to steal the ball from the other team whenever you can. Remember, no hands. Got it?”

  “Got it,” they agreed.

  Danny reached down and snagged the ball to take it to the center point of their mini field.

  “Uncle Danny,” Ruby said with an appalled expression on her face, “you’re using your hands.”

  “The game hasn’t started yet.” At her accusing stare, he sighed and dropped the ball. Seriously? He had to dribble the
ball to the center? Why was he doing this again? Oh, yeah, because Brad wants to play. Dude, you’ve got it bad.

  He dribbled the ball to the correct location and lined up facing Brad. The guy’s smile was the most open, relaxed one he’d seen on Brad so far. “Ready?” Brad asked.

  Danny stretched his arms over his head. The move lifted the hem of his shirt a few inches above the waistband of his shorts. As he’d hoped, Brad’s eyes locked on the patch of bare skin before trailing slowly up his torso. Not pressure, a reminder. “All right, guys! Let’s play.”

  Momentary chaos ensued as ten kids took their places.

  “Guess who I am,” Juan Carlos demanded from his position at the paper plate goal box. He lowered his voice and growled out, “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”

  Danny grinned. “I’m going with the Hulk.”

  Juan Carlos whooped and charged in circles beating his chest like a gorilla.

  In a stage whisper, Danny asked Brad, “He does know the Hulk is the beefy green guy and not King Kong, right?”

  Brad shrugged. “Hey, whatever works for him.”

  “Let me guess,” Danny said with a nod to Veronica, who had her arms wrapped around Brad’s leg, “you’re Captain America.”

  “I didn’t get much of a choice. She’s stubborn.”

  “C’mon,” Alex whined. “Aren’t we going to play?”

  “All right, all right, we’re playing.” Danny picked up the ball and held it above the heads of the kids. “Ready. Set. Go!” He dropped the ball and jumped back as six wannabe-Beckhams charged forward. They all glommed around the ball so tightly it looked like a giant mass of child-sized arms and legs. The mob swerved toward him. He’d been trying to stay out of the thick of things, to hang back and keep the ball from going out-of-bounds if it came down to it. He’d noticed the kids’ change of direction too late. He tripped trying to avoid them and fell back, landing hard on the ground.

  “Time out!” He held his hands up, halting the game. He stood and brushed grass and dirt from his shorts.

  “You okay?” Brad, who’d run over with the rest of them, asked.

  “Fine.” Yes, Danny, let’s play soccer to impress Brad and then fall on your ass like a dumbass.

  “Ew! Uncle Danny, you have dog poop on your back.” Juan Carlos squealed in delighted disgust.

  Of course he did. Fall down. Land in dog shit. Perfect way to attract a guy. He pulled his shirt off and looked at the back. Sure enough. Dog crap.

  He glanced at Brad to gauge his reaction. It wasn’t what he’d expected. Instead of revulsion or amusement, his face showed interest. Those stormy gray eyes explored Danny’s chest and abs. No one had ever looked at his body like it was a piece of art.

  He’d fall into any amount of dog shit if he could see that look of appreciation in Brad’s eyes.

  “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t look away from Brad to figure out which kid said it. The words were enough to break Brad’s trancelike stare, though.

  “Back to the middle.” Brad pointed to the center of their playing area.

  Danny tossed his shirt to the sideline. At this rate, Brad would be his in a matter of days.

  The game started again. After a minute of giggling and squealing, one of the older girls broke out and darted across the makeshift soccer field. From out of nowhere the youngest of his cousins barreled across the lawn and tackled her.

  “Whoa,” Danny cautioned, trying not to laugh as the kids tumbled into the grass. “There’s no tackling in soccer!”

  The girl jumped to her feet and glared at her attacker. Fire blazed in her eyes and she lunged. His cousin scooted away in the nick of time.

  “Penalty kick!” Brad shouted before she could take another swipe. With a jerk of her shoulder and a glare at her cousin, she bent to brush away the grass stains on her knees.

  Veronica’s high-pitched shriek had Danny turning. Brad was walking—sort of—to bring over the abandoned soccer ball. Vero sat on his foot, both arms and both legs wrapped tightly around Brad’s leg. Every step Brad took swung her forward, causing her to screech in delight.

  When Brad’s lumbering stride halted, he held the ball out to Vero.

  “I need you to place this ball right in front of you.”

  Vero was thrilled to be part of the game—something she was usually denied because she was too little—if her grin and practically vibrating body were any indication. She shifted her hands from around Brad’s knee and snatched the ball from his hand. She plopped it exactly where Brad indicated and immediately looked up to him for approval.

  “Excellent,” Brad said, ruffling her dark curls. “All right. Cici, right?” He glanced at the older girl. “Cici, now we’re all going to stand back and you get a free kick at the goal. Only the goalie can try and stop you. Got it?” After giving the instructions, Brad pointed at the goal. “Ready?”

  “Bring it!” The goalie clapped his hands and took up a ready stance.

  Danny choked at that very adult reply coming out of his very young nephew. It looked like Brad was biting back a grin too.

  “Everyone back up,” Brad instructed.

  Everyone took two big steps back, leaving a clear path between Cici and the goal.

  Cici took a step, then two, then she ran full out, kicking the black-and-white ball for all she was worth. It sailed high over the goalie’s head. It had enough momentum that it soared over the fence and into the neighbor’s yard.

  “Whoa.” Juan Carlos gaped as the ball finally came to a stop in the neighbor’s rose bush. “Not it!”

  Suddenly their little patch of lawn echoed with “Not it!”

  Brad cocked his eyebrow at Danny.

  “Last one to say ‘not it’ has to go get the ball.” Danny watched Brad’s mouth open. Before Brad could say anything, though, Danny jumped in. “Not it!”

  “Ah, man,” Brad grumbled good-naturedly, winking at Veronica. “I guess it’s me. If I’m not back in ten minutes, send the rescue squad.”

  Veronica rolled off Brad’s foot. “Okay.”

  “Watch out for the attack dog,” Danny called after Brad’s retreating form. “Mean old pit bull.”

  “I thought it was a poodle,” Juan Carlos said.

  He looked at his nephew and shrugged. “He doesn’t know that.”

  Still chuckling at the kids’ and Danny’s antics, Brad jogged around the side of the house. The only entrance to the backyard was through the gate in the front. A tiny poodle yipped at him from behind the neighbor’s front window. “Pit bull, my left nut.”

  Brad stuck his tongue out at Veronica and Juan Carlos, who stood on the other side of the fence. Their young giggles caused something to loosen, to lighten in his chest. Who knew little kids could be so cool? Or that he’d be more comfortable with them than with people his own age?

  It shouldn’t have surprised him. He didn’t exactly relate well to others. Two years of being a social outcast would do that to a guy. But kids? They didn’t judge. They didn’t have any prejudices or expectations. They accepted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played simply for the fun of it. Sure, maybe he’d been hiding from the adults a bit, but after a couple of minutes of fun he’d forgotten all about his ulterior motives.

  Squatting next to the rose bush, Brad reached through the prickly stems and leaves to snag the ball. When he got to his feet, squealing brakes sounded from the street. A black SUV came to a sudden halt in front of the Ortegas’ house. The back door was thrust open and something—a body?—was shoved onto the curb.

  Shock held his feet motionless only for a moment. He darted forward, soccer ball forgotten under his arm. By the time he’d made it halfway across the yard, the black SUV had sped away.

  He jogged to the unmoving form, holding his breath. The tige
r tattoo told Brad who lay before him.

  Squatting next to Ray’s motionless form, Brad dropped the ball and touched his shoulder with a shaking hand. “Ray? How badly are you hurt?” His voice wavered, but he pushed back the panic. Now wasn’t the time to lose his shit.

  Ray shifted his head enough for Brad to get a good look at his face. His eyes were almost swollen shut and blood smeared down his chin from a cut along his eyebrow. It was bad. Brad jumped to his feet. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get your dad.”

  “No!” Ray tried to stop Brad, then groaned and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his ribs.

  “What?”

  “Please.” Ray coughed, a sickly wet sound that couldn’t be good. “Don’t tell him.” He sucked in a deep breath, and this time when he spoke, his voice was stronger. “There are too many people here.”

  Brad squatted down next to Ray. “I can’t leave you here.”

  Ray licked his lips, grimacing when his tongue touched blood. Brad cringed in sympathy. “Can I get Danny, at least?” he asked. He glanced behind him, hoping someone, anyone, would come out so he didn’t have to deal with this. Ray nodded.

  Brad sprung to his feet and dashed to the back fence. Danny appeared to be in deep conversation with Juan Carlos. Putting two fingers in his mouth, Brad let out a piercing whistle that would have given his mother a coronary. It got Danny’s attention, though. Danny, and what looked to be all ten kids, looked over.

  Brad lifted his chin to indicate he needed to speak with Danny. The other boy got the hint and escaped the younger crowd.

  “It’s Ray,” Brad said when Danny met him at the gate. “He’s hurt. Badly.”

  By the time they turned at the corner of the house, Ray had managed to sit up, but he still covered his ribs with his arms.

  Danny ran forward and dropped to Ray’s side. “Shit, Ray, what happened? Who did this?”

  Brad hung back, wanting to help, but feeling useless. Now that the surge of adrenaline was wearing off, the full impact of the situation hit him. He swallowed heavily to keep the queasiness at bay. Little details kept jumping out at him, filling his vision, like the camera for a police drama on TV cataloging a victim’s injuries. Angle in on the black eye, pause. Pan to the split lip, pause.