Till Justice Is Served by Jerrie Alexander Page A

had pulled out of Erin's tree had been killed outside a bar. Stabbed in the back. Did the fact a knife was the murder weapon worry Rafe? Hell, yes.
    Minutes later, he had Colton on the line.
    "You're sitting on a bed of hot coals." As always, Colton had skipped the pleasantries. "You can't even go home without getting shit stirred up."
    "What does that mean?"
    "According to the boss, there's already a joint effort in Westbrook Hills, and you're not to get involved."
    "How'd he know you were looking into the drug angle for me?" Rafe wasn't questioning if Colton had leaked information. He knew better. Yet here was a message to back off.
    Colton chuckled. "While you had me discreetly poking around, somebody inquired about you. I was told to remind you that you're taking some time off."
    Rafe's neck muscles tensed. "I knew it. I fucking knew it. Systems programmer, my dying ass. He's a federal agent."
    "If you're referring to Linc Hawkins, you're right. While you and I were undercover in Mexico, he made quite a name for himself. Got a brother with the DEA. I suspect they're working the drug angle together. You'd better keep an eye on your lady friend. I hear Hawkins is almost as good with women as I am."
    Rafe heard Colton laugh, but nothing he'd said really registered. Nothing past the fact that Linc was a fed. That should have made him happy. It didn't. Should have eased his concern about an ongoing investigation into drugs. It didn't. Should have assured him that Erin was well protected with Linc next door. It didn't.
    However, it did make him curious. Was Hawkins really thinking about settling down in Westbrook Hills? Or had he been yanking Rafe's chain to piss him off?
    What the hell? He didn't give a damn where Hawkins lived.
    Rafe asked Colton to get the inside scoop on the murdered photographer and then ended the call. He arrived at the field house just as the door opened. Young men poured out onto the football field. There'd be no talking to the coach for a while.
    He climbed the bleachers and found a good spot to watch practice. The first time the wide receiver ran downfield for a pass, Rafe visualized Nick doing the same, arms in the air, ready to catch the football. Once upon a time, Rafael and Nicholas Sirilli had made one hell of a team.
    The young players had broad shoulders and thighs the size of tree stumps. Within minutes of practice starting, things turned ugly. Rafe remembered workouts so brutal that half the team puked. Aggression was expected, but the young men on the field today were vicious. Words were exchanged, and more than one confrontation turned into a shoving match.
    Rafe's coach had been tough, preached teamwork and ethics. This man was encouraging the violent behavior. Hell, he was setting an example with his own taunts, shoves, and kicks.
    Rafe had seen enough. He jumped to the ground and jogged to the sidelines.
    "Coach," he called, interrupting a tirade directed at one particular kid.
    The coach whirled. His lips were drawn back over his teeth. He released the kid's jersey. "Practice isn't open to the public. You'll have to leave."
    Rafe flashed his badge, exposing enough to identify himself as a federal agent. This had to remain informal, but he had to interrupt.
    "Rafe Sirilli," he said. Without hesitation, he walked to the young player and clapped him on the shoulder pads. "You okay?"
    The kid's lower jaw moved, but no words came out. He swallowed, glanced at the coach, and then nodded. He jogged back to the action on the field.
    "What can I do for you?" The coach moved to stand on Rafe's right side.
    "I noticed things were getting out of hand. Thought a timeout might be welcome." Sometimes staying casual and keeping things light worked better than the tactic he wanted to use. He held back the urge to give the asshole a taste of his own medicine.
    "If you're not here on official business, I'll get back to the team."
    "You go ahead. There's no law against me watching from the stands." No way