Eye on the Ball Read online

  “I mean it,” Leon said in a stiff voice. “I’ll only analyze and comment on the play I see during the game. Besides, your coach might decide to do something else on the day.”

  Hunter grinned without warning, and handed Leon a fistful of crinkled papers. “Good enough. I’d appreciate your help with the set-play stuff. I’ll muddle through the rest—the main game plan—at home when I’m not so distracted.”

  Fair enough. The anxiety building in his chest dissipated, leaving him relieved and honored by Hunter’s trust. He cleared his throat. “Right. Where do you want to start?”

  * * * * *

  Their team lined up in the tunnel ready to run onto the field. Nerves fluttered in the pit of Hunter’s belly. D-day. He’d done everything possible to prepare for the match. He was in the best shape he’d ever been and he had all the set-pieces down, thanks to Leon. Memories of their weekend brought a smirk. God, he hoped they managed time together after the game. This long-distance stuff sucked.

  “What the hell is wrong with Coach?” one of the players muttered to Hunter.

  Hunter took a quick look and shrugged at the wolfish grin splitting the coach’s face. “Maybe he knows something we don’t. I’m just glad to make the starting team this week.”

  “Yeah, what’s with that? He always gives you a hard time.”

  “I’ve no idea.” The truth. He’d never had much to do with the man on a personal level.

  The captains led out their teams to rousing cheers from the spectators. Not an empty seat in the house. Fans held up banners and waved scarves, most dressed in their team colors. Hunter glanced about, searching for Leon but couldn’t find him.

  Disappointed, he ran through another series of warm-ups. At the referee’s signal, he popped in his mouth guard, accepted the ball and trotted down the field to take up his position. The referee blew his whistle, and Hunter kicked off. He sprinted down the field, hard on the chase without taking his eyes off the ball. A Melbourne player leaped into the air, snatching the ball cleanly, taking it forward. The ball whipped from player to player and before Hunter’s team realized, their defensive line broke. The opposition passed the ball back and one of their forwards crashed across the line to score.

  Shell-shocked at the rapid attack, play went downhill from there. The Melbourne kicker slotted the ball over the goal to convert the try. Two more tries came in quick succession, only a penalty goal by Hunter’s team giving them any sort of respectability.

  Halftime came all too quickly. Hunter walked into the changing room, his side aching from a hard hit. A gash on the side of his skull oozed blood, and he held a towel to the wound, hoping to stem the bleeding.

  The coach prowled into the changing rooms. Instead of looking like a thunder cloud, the man wore a smug grin.

  “Blair, you’re off. Maitlock, you’re up in his place.”

  Total silence fell in the changing rooms, several of the players shocked at the coach’s decision while others glanced at Hunter in silent commiseration.

  Normally Hunter kept quiet about coaching decisions, but this wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Hell, he was playing better than most of the team. “Why am I off?”

  Their captain shot Hunter a warning grimace and jumped into the conversation. “Blair’s playing well, Coach. What’s the plan for the rest of the game?”

  “Blair sold us out. He leaked our game plan to the Melbourne team.”

  What the fuck? Fear shot through Hunter as every single player glared at him in condemnation.

  “I did not.” He hadn’t. Leon had helped with the set-play stuff, not the game plan. Of course Leon could have sneaked a look… His hands clenched at his sides. Leon wouldn’t…no, he couldn’t believe Leon would crap on him like this. His mind rapidly replayed the first half, and his jaw dropped in shock.

  Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

  “I saw you with the Melbourne assistant coach,” Coach said. “You had no reason to visit Brisbane or to act chummy with a Melbourne coach. Don’t try to deny it. I saw you drive off together. Pack up your stuff and leave. None of us want a cheat in our team.”

  “But all of us know the opposing players. Sometimes we socialize,” Hunter protested. “I’d didn’t leak the plan for today’s game.”

  “You’re finished.”

  “You can’t dump me. I have a contract.”

  “We can. Read the small print.” With a cruel smile, Coach turned his back to gesture at the rest of the team. “Huddle up.”

  Numb, Hunter scanned the faces of his team, men he’d played alongside for months, some of them for years. They avoided his gaze, and Hunter’s shoulders hunched at the rejection.

  “You heard the coach,” the captain said in a hard voice. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “Hustle, you lot,” the coach ordered. “Our lawyers will be in touch, Blair.” With those final words, he gathered the team around him and started to issue instructions to the players for the second half.

  Shock speared through Hunter as he gathered his gear on automatic pilot, shoving his belongings inside his bag.

  “Leave the jersey and the Auckland gear,” their assistant coach said quietly. “You won’t play for us again.”

  Tight-lipped, Hunter ripped the jersey and tracksuit top off and pulled on a ratty T-shirt he used for training. He exchanged his rugby boots for a pair of casual slip-on shoes and zipped up his bag. His head ached in time with his bruised side as he stood. Hesitating, he waited for someone to tell him this was a big joke.

  It didn’t happen and he accepted the truth. He’d screwed up, giving Leon the means to betray him. Double whammy.

  “I’ll escort you out,” the assistant coach said.

  He caught the low mutters of contempt as he strode past the other players. When he exited the rear door and it closed behind him, a mob of reporters descended on him, surrounding him like opposition players wanting the ball. Cameras clicked in his face.

  “Why did you do it, Hunter?” a reporter called. “Why did you betray your team?”

  Someone had called the media already? Hunter attempted to swallow, the lump in his throat so big that not even a second gulp cleared the constriction. Ignoring the questions, he shouldered his way through the mob. His eyes stung with emotion as he patted his pockets for his car keys. Realization came slowly. His car wasn’t here. He’d come on the bus with the rest of the team.

  With his followers yipping at his heels like annoying dogs, he searched for a cab. Not a single taxi drove past, and he resigned himself to a walk. He’d brought this on himself by trusting Leon. He deserved every humiliation the team and the public cared to toss at him. He swore under his breath. The attention would get worse before it got better, especially if his team—ex-team—couldn’t turn the game around in the second half and they lost.

  Accusations and blame would heap down on his head, and he only had himself to blame.

  * * * * *

  “Is Blair injured?” the Melbourne coach asked.

  Leon frowned at the players taking the field for the second half. Hunter wasn’t there. A heavy, sinking sensation filled him as he realized their game plan was working. Their team was countering every move the Auckland team made. Not good. Hunter might think he’d spilled details of what he knew to the rest of the Melbourne coaching staff. “How did you come up with our final game plan?”

  “The coach for the Auckland team has been around for a while. Over the weekend I had a brainwave and checked the footage of his big games for the last five seasons. It took a while but I finally realized he recycled his game plans. He has about three plans he uses with slight variations, and all I needed to do was find ways for our team to shut them down. Simple.”

  Leon returned the coach’s triumphant smile despite the sick weight in his gut. Hunter would assume he’d lied to him and passed on inside info, but he hadn’t known of the Melbourne plans. He’d had an emergency dentist’s appointment during the last training session. “When did he u
se this plan?”

  “Against the Natal Leopards three years ago.”

  “What do you think they’ll do in the second half?”

  “I’m hoping he’ll revert to type and go with his strategy from another season. We’ll soon see.”

  Leon pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Hunter. Maybe he’d picked up an injury during the first half, but if that were the case why wasn’t he sitting with the reserves watching the rest of the game?

  The match kicked off, and within ten minutes, he could see their coach had called it right. The Auckland team had shifted their tactics, but the Melbourne team read every set-piece without difficulty.

  “Our team is playing well,” Leon said, forcing the words out.

  The head coach grunted, leaning in his seat when their forward pack shoved the Auckland pack two meters toward the score line. Another giant shunt and the coach jumped to his feet, pumping his fist in the air. “Score! They’ll be hard put to catch us now.”

  It was the longest half of rugby Leon had ever sat through. He’d set his phone on vibrate, hoping Hunter would call or text him. His phone remained silent.

  * * * * *

  The shit hit the fan about half an hour after the game ended. Hunter ignored the persistent ringing of the phone to concentrate on the TV news item, his fists clenching as he listened to each damning word. Senior management for the Auckland team labeled him a cheat for meeting a member of the Melbourne coaching staff. The media crucified him. Within minutes Twitter and Facebook buzzed with the news, full of the fans’ thoughts regarding Hunter’s deception. The polite ones charged him with disloyalty to the team.

  Sickened, Blair pulled out his contract and struggled through reading the small print. Yep, they could get rid of him for bringing the club in to disrepute.

  A knock on the door grabbed his attention. Hunter peered out the door spy hole and cursed. Photographers lurked outside, waiting for him to make an appearance. His phone rang again, strident with its summons. By about the twentieth call, he stopped answering and unplugged his phone. Next, he switched off his cell.

  After prowling his lounge, he broke down and poured himself a drink. Two sips later, he set it aside. Instead, he roamed his apartment, fury building in him with each circuit. They were crucifying him, branding him a cheat, and he couldn’t refute the fact because part of it was true. He’d given Leon some of the info and screwed himself in the process.

  Leon had promised he wouldn’t share the information. He’d lied.

  God, what was he going to do? Talk to Coach. Yeah, maybe he could try that. It couldn’t hurt. Retracing his steps to the kitchen, he found Coach’s number on the contact list and after reconnecting the phone, carefully punched the number.

  “Moore,” Coach barked.

  “Coach, it’s Blair.”

  “You have a fuckin’ cheek contacting me.”

  “Wait! Don’t hang up. I didn’t do it.”

  Coach snarled. “I saw you with Fleming. Even if I hadn’t, I know you’re a cheat.”

  “What? How?” Hunter asked.

  “You had sex with my wife.”

  “What?” Hunter didn’t need to pretend surprise.

  “Don’t try to deny it. She told me you fucked her. She told me you were a better lay than me.”

  “I’ve never slept with your wife.” He remembered turning down her offer at the beginning of the season. Surely she wouldn’t…

  “You’re a fuckin’ liar, Blair.”

  “No—”

  Coach hung up, cutting him off mid-denial. Hunter replaced the receiver and dragged a hand through his hair. No wonder Coach hated his guts. And that’s when he realized nothing he said to Coach would clear his name. He was fucked big time.

  Chapter Six

  “What am I going to do, Kane? He’s enemy number one in Auckland. They’re saying on the news kids are pelting his car with eggs and that’s not the worst of it. I’ve rung and left messages, but he ignores them. He thinks I knifed him in the back.” Leon sat on the chair in front of Kane’s desk and immediately jumped back up, too agitated to remain still. Kane’s office reminded him of Hunter. “He can’t play rugby again. No team will take him. And his injuries had only just come right. He was playing so well. I’m sure he would have made the All Black squad on his current form.”

  “What about Melbourne? Could he play for them?”

  Leon snorted. “Yeah, how would that look? As if we’ve given him a reward for cheating. Besides, he won’t want to work with me.” His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Not now.”

  “What does he do for a job?”

  “Rugby is all he knows. He was a building laborer when he left school and he kept that up until he received his first rugby contract.”

  “But he’s smart?”

  “He’s not dumb, but he has trouble reading stuff.”

  Kane’s brows rose. “Dyslexic?”

  “Yeah. Do you have something in mind?”

  “I need help in the club. You’re the only one I trust to manage the club for me, and you’re not always available. You like and trust him.”

  “Which doesn’t get past the problem of him refusing to talk to me. I’d fly to Auckland to see him, but my appearance will likely make things worse.” His fists clenched, and he glanced around for something to punch. His gaze lit on Kane.

  “Don’t even think it! My wife likes my face the way it is. Besides, I have a plan.” Kane remained standing, relaxed and confident. “You sit tight and carry on with your coaching duties. Let me take care of your friend.”

  “You don’t understand. I…I lost Jason. I can’t sit back and do nothing now. I have to fight. I have to do something.”

  Sympathy filled Kane’s face. He stood and rounded his desk. “You are taking action. You came to me for help. You can’t muscle each problem to the ground like one of your forward packs taking on the opposition. Some problems require finesse.”

  Leon’s throat ached, his tormented thoughts a constant hammer in his head. “I miss him.” And each time he thought about what Hunter was going through, he felt physically sick.

  He’d considered asking their management to make a statement but decided running interference would make things worse. Besides, people would start asking why he and Hunter had met up that weekend, which would open another closet entirely.

  The Melbourne head coach denied they’d cheated or had contact with Hunter when a reporter asked for a quote. He’d explained he’d done his homework and that he was proud of the Melbourne team effort. But Auckland fans wanted someone to blame for the loss and had picked Hunter as the scapegoat.

  Leon sighed heavily. “All right. I appreciate anything you can do.”

  Two weeks later Leon wasn’t feeling the same hope or confidence. He missed the calls and the texts he and Hunter had exchanged, the common ground of rugby. A stab of guilt tightened his chest. He missed the sex. If only he could speak with Hunter and tell him how they’d known what the Auckland team would do. Of course knowing the truth wouldn’t fix Hunter’s rugby career or public perceptions, but it would put things right between the two of them. He checked his watch and decided to take a shower before heading out to Maxwell’s. Hopefully, Kane would have some good news for him.

  * * * * *

  “He abused my trust.” Hunter stared at Kane, Leon’s friend. The man had rocks in his skull if he thought Hunter would welcome a chance to speak to Leon. “I won’t give him a chance to kick me in the guts again. Hell, I’ve had the Auckland club lawyers hounding me. The only reason they’re not taking legal action is because there is no proof. Not that the lack of evidence matters to the fans. They have no problems calling me a cheat.”

  Kane remained composed, not giving away much. “I explained what happened. All you need to do is talk to the Melbourne head coach.”

  “Like he’s going to tell me the truth.”

  “Watch the footage from previous seasons, and you’ll see the game plans were exactl
y the same as the ones your coach used in the first and second halves.”

  Hunter hesitated before turning away. Didn’t matter anyway. His life was so fucked up nothing could halt his downward spiral. His rugby career was dead—murdered by the Auckland coach—and he wasn’t qualified to do much else.

  “Dammit, don’t be an idiot. Come and talk to Leon. Fly back to Melbourne with me tonight.” Kane grabbed his upper arm, yanking him around to face him. “You and Leon have the makings of something special. Leon actually smiled before this happened, and you did that. I haven’t seen him this happy since before Jason died.” Kane’s tone was fierce and a little pissed.

  “You don’t know what it’s been like. The abuse and the hate mail from the public. My so-called friends shunning me because they believe what the coach told them. Look, I’ll think about speaking with Leon, okay?”

  “That’s all I ask. My flight leaves at eight tonight. I’ve booked a seat for you.”

  “Pretty confident, aren’t you?”

  “No, hopeful.” Kane turned away, and when the front door clicked shut, Hunter moved to the window. Outside the block of apartments, the reporters and photographers had thinned out, but a few diehards attempted to worm info from Kane as he strode to his car. He ignored them.

  Once Kane’s rental car pulled away from the curb, Hunter wandered to his kitchen and grabbed a beer.

  He took a sip while staring moodily around his kitchen. The home he’d worked so hard for and taken such pride in felt like a prison.

  Screw it! Hunter set down his beer with a thump. At the very least he could tell Leon what he thought of his disloyalty.

  * * * * *

  Hunter walked into the club at Kane’s side just after one in the morning. The place didn’t seem as busy as the time he’d visited, although at least a dozen men and women stood around, studying a scene in one of the dungeons.

  “Where’s Leon?” Hunter wanted to get this over and done.

  Kane waved at a woman sitting by the bar and headed in her direction. Hunter kept pace, ignoring the curious glances from the people they passed on the way. Everyone knew his face. Since the Auckland-Melbourne rugby game he was enemy number one.