Page 73 of Big Bad Wolfe

At the beach, buzzing swarms of people milled around, eating ice cream, hot dogs, and cotton candy. Gulls wheeled overhead, occasionally dive bombing a stray tidbit with screeching delight. Tangy ocean breeze ruffled Zane’s hair. Holding Casey’s silver kite, he followed the kid’s surprisingly accurate directions to the competition site, his sneakers scrunching through warm sand.

A barrel-chested man reined over the registration table. “Kite name?” His shiny bald head gleamed in the late afternoon sun as he consulted a clipboard.

“Some men don’t wear hair,” Casey confided in a piping tone that could’ve carried clear to the California border. “Like this guy and my Poppy.”

Zane bit back a grin. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “But they don’t usually like it when other people advertise that fact. What’s your kite’s name?”

“TheMillennium Falcon.”

Of course it was.

Not appearing to hold a grudge over Casey’s tactless observation, the burly man handed Zane a page of rules and two large labels printed with the number fourteen. Zane stuck one on his shirt and one on Casey’s.

Casey puffed out his scrawny chest. “We’re a team, Zane.”

Ambushed by the oddly appealing idea, panic jittered through him. Once again, he mentally pulled back. “How do we do this?”

“You never flied a kite before?”

He shook his head. Kite flying wasn’t competitive and cutthroat, and therefore of no value to his old man. “I won’t be as skilled as your Grandpa Dean. We’d better practice.”

Casey shrugged. “Don’t worry, you can do it.”

By the time the competition started, Zane felt at least adequate with the tricky maneuvers. The object was for each team to attempt to knock the other kites out and be the last kite in the air. Team members had to both hold onto the string and work together.

Halfway through the match, he had to admit it was the most fun he’d ever had standing up—well, okay, except for the scorching session at Tahoe with Jillian. Casey stuck close to his side, giggling like a fiend whenever they knocked out another kite.

They finished in fifth place and received a white honorable mention ribbon. “Not bad for a couple rookies, kid.” He ruffled Casey’s silky hair. “Did you have fun?”

Casey grinned up at him. “Epicfun.”

“You did good.” He remembered Stoneheart’s credo:The world hates losers.Win at all times, at any cost.

Brent had embraced the brutal philosophy. His well-learned perfectionism had alienated two wives and driven his teenaged son to drugs.

Zane had wanted to please his father as a youngster, but as he grew up, he’d eventually figured out it was impossible. When he turned fifteen, he’d resolutely chosen his own path. And although he’d tried to ignore his father’s continued verbal tirades over the years, the harsh taunts had still struck as hard as physical blows, leaving scars on his spirit.

Trev, as the youngest son who felt he had the most to prove, had strived more and more desperately for the old man’s approval. But failed miserably.

And Zane had failed his little brother … in the worst possible way.

Throat painfully tight, Zane focused on the child at his side who was chortling with enthusiasm. Maybe the past had taught him something worthwhile after all. Something valuable he could pass on.

“Be proud of yourself, Casey. Proud of this.” He gently tucked the white ribbon into Casey’s jeans’ pocket. “And don’t ever let anybody tell you that not coming in first is a bad thing. Enjoying what you do in life is what really counts.”

Casey nodded vigorously. “Okay, Zane.”

Zane shifted the kite under his arm. Glancing at his watch, he frowned. No sign of Jillian. He didn’t like the idea of her hanging out alone with former gangbangers, no matter how rehabilitated. “How about some cotton candy while we watch the other events?”

“Yay! I want pink!”

Eating wispy pink candy that melted in his mouth, Zane strolled along the beach with Casey, entertained by the child’s eagle-eyed, lively commentary.

He checked his watch again. Thirty more minutes, then he was taking the kid to the Center and looking for her.

“Aunt Jelly!” Casey shouted, jumping up and down. “Over here!”

Zane looked up and saw Jillian gracefully strolling toward them. Relief, mixed with an emotion he refused to name, whipped through him.

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