Pitch Please (There's No Crying in Baseball 1)

He was on the shorter side— well, at least compared to my six-foot-three height—and sporting a scar on his face that made him look like he had a permanent scowl.

“What is?” I questioned him.

“The resemblance.” He gestured at my face. “Look exactly like him.”

“We’re identical twins,” I pointed out.

The man’s face kicked up into his version of a grin—which admittedly wasn’t much of a grin due to the scar—and offered his hand to me. “Tim Teague.”

“Hancock Peters,” I offered him the same.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

I nodded.

“These men at my back, from left to right, are Park, Crassus, Jimmy and Tucker.” He pointed at the four men directly behind him. “We’re glad you’re here.”

I breathed out a sigh of relief.

“I hope I can help.”

“Your face has already helped,” he told me. “Now we just gotta get you out of those civilian clothes.”

I looked down at my jeans and t-shirt, and then up at the tan cargo pants and brown shirt that the rest of them were wearing, and nodded.

“Okay.”

We began walking, and I started looking around while I raised one arm to wipe the sweat already pouring down my face.

It didn’t escape my knowledge that I was being watched.

It was decided that I’d come into this specific airport because it was the same one that my brother had been taken from on his way back home.

The airport was also in an area overrun by infidels who thought it was their job to scare every person who tried to come through their turf.

“Don’t worry about them,” the one who was introduced as Tucker threw his arm around my shoulder. “It’s good that they’re seeing you here. Gotta give them a good show, though.”

I elbowed Tucker off my shoulders.

“That’s what I was told,” I muttered. “But you have some body odor that’s really rank, and I’d rather not have it that close to my face.”

Tucker laughed, loud and deep.

“You remind me of him,” he sobered. “That was something your brother would say.”

I shrugged.

“I just hope I can help, and we can get him out,” I murmured. “And I only have two weeks to accomplish this, according to Leslie.”

“Who?” Tucker asked, opening the door to a Jeep that looked like it had seen better days.

I slid inside, sandwiched in by Tucker and Crassus, and said, “Leslie Corvallis.”

“Corvallis’ name is Leslie?”

That was from Park, who was driving.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Has been for the last fifty-seven years, too.”

Crassus snorted.

“He’s gone nine and a half years without telling us that little tidbit. He said we didn’t need to know.” His lips twisted into a maniacal smile. “I can’t wait to tell him I know. Maybe I’ll just use it as I address him next time.”

“And maybe he’ll knock that stupid smile off your face,” Jimmy muttered as he looked out the window.

I found my first smile since I got off the plane.

“Yeah, that’s Leslie for you,” I confirmed. “Though Hannibal’s known it all this time. Why didn’t you just ask him?”

“Hannibal was sworn to secrecy. Said he would run the risk of losing his balls if he told us.”

“Hmmm,” I muttered. “That sounds like it’d be enough of a reason for him not to tell.”

“And what is he going to do to you when he finds out you told us?” Tucker asked, looking over at me.

“Not a damn thing if he wants to keep his season tickets.”

The group chuckled all around me, and I turned my head to stare out the window.

It was like I was in a different world.

There was absolutely nothing but sand.

Sand for as far as the eye could see.

“Usually, we would have to worry about IEDs. But we had the road swept before we came and it’s clean. We’re free to drive right up to our base,” Tucker commented when he saw me looking.

“Do you have any clue where Hannibal is yet?” I ignored the way the word ‘IED’ tore through me, making my hair stand on end.

I hated that my brother was over there doing that. I was proud as hell of him for doing it, but I didn’t understand why he was doing it. Why did he feel the need to be here? He had enough money, and even if he didn’t, he could go back to the farm and be a stubborn ass like my other brothers as they worked off the land.

Land that they had no clue I’d bought out from under them—which was going to go over like a bag of snakes shoved up their asses.

“We’re still fairly firm on the weapons manufacturer,” Tucker murmured, looking out the window himself this time.

“Why is it such a big deal for him to be there…other than him being a fucking American?” I asked. “Isn’t this guy from America?”

“Yes,” Tim chimed in from the front seat. “If he’s authorized to be there. This isn’t the embassy. This is a private residence. The compound has its own security detail that are there twenty-four seven. The owner also isn’t in on this in any way.”