Strike (Completion Series) Read Online Free Page B

voice remained low. “I need to grab something from my car and then I’ll let you all go to sleep. I’ll be back in just a minute.” He opened the door and walked outside.
    My brother’s huge eyes met mine. “You brought Reed Tyler here. Did you know it was Reed Tyler?”
    “Shh. We’ll talk after he’s gone.”
    Reed stepped back in holding the shoebox with his balls. He placed them on the table on top of my accounting book before turning to my brother and shaking his hand.
    “It was nice to meet you , Jon.”
    Jon just nodded.
    Reed’s blue eyes turned and drilled into mine. “I hope those give you what you need. I’ll make sure the media knows I no longer own them.”
    I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat. I wanted to cry , and, more than anything, I no longer wanted Reed Tyler’s balls.

Chapter Five
     
    His car roared away while I stood in stunned silence.
    “What the hell’s in the box, sis?”
    I walked to the table and lifted the lid, handing one of the Plexiglas -encased balls to my brother. It was marked with a small plaque showing the name and date.
    “Hol y shit, it’s a Babe Ruth.”
    At least it was someone I’d heard of and I didn’t feel stupid. I picked up another, lifting it to the dim light. Mickey Mantle, someone else I’d heard of, so I knew these balls were worth some money.
    When word went out on the street that Big Jim, the local fence, would pay ten grand for Reed Tyler’s autographed baseball collection, I had no idea exactly which balls I was after. I just figured that some dumbass rich jock could afford to lose them. I didn’t know Reed’s father gave them to him. I looked down. There was one more in the box. I peeked inside with my brother peering over my shoulder.
    I picked it up.
    Jon whispered, reverence dripping from his voice. “Joe Jackson. Holy shit, that’s Shoeless Joe’s signature.”
    “Shoeless Joe?”
    He rolled his eyes, turning the Plexiglas around and around, his mouth slightly open. I hadn’t seen that kind of animation on Jon’s face for years. It made him look much younger than our hard life made him act.
    Our life sucked.
    ***
    Sleeping next to my sister on the soft , lumpy bed didn’t keep me from tossing and turning. Baseball’s Holy Grail collection was stashed under the box holding up the mattress. Jon helped lift the mattress to hide it, while Bitsy slept through the tilting of her bed. I’d told Jon almost the entire story, leaving out only that Mr. Tyler cut away my shirt and bra.
    He’d turned away from me, clearly fighting anger. “Why would you do that?”
    “We need the money , Jon.”
    “So you tried to steal it by breaking into a house. What if he’d called the police?”
    “He didn’t .”
    Jon knew our situation. I think he even understood, but he had a right to be angry. If I’d been caught, he and Bitsy would be back in foster care. I lay in bed unable to escape the guilt I felt. Even if my brother didn’t blame me, I’d let him down. I tossed and turned slowly, trying not to wake Bitsy. Knowing what I had to do and doing it were two different things.
    N umbers ran through my head. I would cut out one of my classes next semester and look for a second job. We could survive until Jon graduated from high school. He had an excellent chance of getting an academic scholarship to a decent college. He’d lied to Reed. Against all odds, Jon was an excellent student. If I had another job, I could stash some money so I would be home at night with Bitsy after Jon went away to school.
    All but one possibility passed through my mind while I tried to sleep. Reed Tyler would get his balls back. I could never sell them.
    ***
    I gazed in the small bathroom mirror at my bruised face. It was better than I thought it would look. I’d put my brown hair up in a tight bun in preparation for work. My mom, before she got sick, peered back at me. My nose was a little pointier, but my cheekbones were the same and so were my lips.