Defending Hearts by Rebecca Crowley

Author:Rebecca Crowley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-07-10T13:32:19+00:00

Chapter 15

“Oz’s ball!” he shouted as the free kick arced into the line of players protecting Skyline’s goal. Laurent obediently ducked in front of him as Oz jumped, stopping the shot with his chest and controlling it down to his feet.

His lungs burned and his breath faltered from the impact, and he sucked in air as he passed to Nico. They were up one-nil in their home fixture, but Miami’s manager must have given a rousing half-time talk because the opposition had come back from the break in full-on attack mode. Skyline’s defense had held up thus far, but the pressure increased every minute as Miami took chance after chance.

Kojo missed a pass from Laurent and one of Miami’s forwards snapped up the loose ball, then pivoted to drive hard into Skyline’s half. Oz raced to track back.

Instinct took over as he focused on catching his opponent. He chased the forward with ruthless precision, swiveling, confounding the Miami player’s attempts to shake him off. The forward veered toward the sideline, trying to force Oz to kick out any interception he managed, but Oz saw through him. He made his tackle carefully but forcefully, neatly stealing the ball from the forward’s feet and booting it to Guedes. Guedes passed to Nico, who passed to Laurent, who sailed it in a beautiful arc to Rio.

Oz was level with Rio when he crossed the ball to Deon. It had the shape of a perfect assist, and Oz held his breath as he looked to see whether Deon was about to raise the score to two-nil.

Except Deon frowned in the direction of the crowd, then turned wide eyes on Oz. The ball curved unheeded behind Deon’s back.

“Fuck’s sake, what are you doing?” Oz shouted, slapping his palm against his forehead. Deon’s response was to run straight toward him.

Bewilderment rooted Oz to the spot as he watched his teammate hurtling toward him, his brow furrowed in determination. Had he missed something?

He turned a questioning gaze to Roland only to find the manager sprinting onto the pitch. He frowned, trying to imagine what could possibly be going on, when Deon ran into him side-on, accidentally shoving him to the ground.

“Move,” the striker urged him, desperation in his voice as he yanked hard on Oz’s arm, the scents of soil and grass filling his senses as he struggled up from the earth. “There’s a bomb, we have to run.”

Oz’s heartbeat stalled, then resumed in triple time. “What?”

Roland reached them before Deon could answer, frantically pulling Oz the rest of the way up. “Hurry, we have to evacuate the pitch, go for the tunnel and—”

“It’s okay,” Miami’s goalkeeper called as he ran up to them. Oz swayed on his feet. One minute he was on the ground, now he stood, he hadn’t even seen anything happen. What the hell was going on?

“Road flares,” the goalkeeper told them breathlessly. “Fucking road flares taped to look like dynamite.”

Still getting his bearings, Oz followed the sound of a commotion to the stands behind Miami’s goal.

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