Raoul shrugged. “I’ve been blessed. I had a successful career that left me a wealthy man. Someone close to me taught me the importance of giving back. This is how I’ve chosen to do it.”
Angel knew that most people would think the summer camp itself was enough.
“I want you to sign on as one of my volunteers,” Raoul told him.
Angel wasn’t used to being surprised. “Why me?”
Raoul grinned. “I’ve heard good things.”
“The guys at Score speak football. I don’t.”
“They’re good men and I thought about them, but I think you have the skill set I’m looking for.” He chuckled. “For one thing, you’re going to scare the crap out of the average teenage boy. That means he’ll be listening.”
Angel lightly touched the scar on his neck. He knew he looked intimidating. Or at least he had. Between his time in Fool’s Gold and the way his Acorns swarmed around him, he was able to forget from time to time.
“It’s not a big-time commitment,” Raoul told him. “Two or three hours a week. We’ll be figuring it out as we go. Once we have some idea of what’s working and what isn’t, we’ll bring in other volunteers and expand the program.”
Angel thought about how he’d first planned on working with teenage boys. Because of Marcus. He hadn’t been there for his son—he hadn’t been able to keep him safe. Maybe giving back would lessen the gnawing sense of having failed at the one thing that mattered—protecting those he loved.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
“Great.” Raoul stood. “Let’s go.”
Angel rose. “Go where?”
“The high school. Several of the boys have a study period in about fifteen minutes. We can pull them out and talk to them.” He flashed another smile. “I cleared it with their counselor a couple of days ago.”
“You were that sure of me?”
“I asked around. You seemed like the type to agree.”
Angel didn’t bother asking what type that was—mostly because he didn’t want to know.
Just about fifteen minutes later he and Raoul were walking into Fool’s Gold High School. They signed in at the front desk and were then shown to an empty classroom. They’d barely walked inside when five guys joined them.
The students were younger than Angel had expected. They were still small and skinny. Awkward in their bodies, with too-long legs and arms. Later they would fill out, but right now they were trapped between childhood and manhood. Sophomores, he thought, taking in their curious expressions.
He would guess they were about the same age Marcus had been. Marcus, who had loved baseball and comic books and “Halo 2.” Who’d been good at math, loved to read but hated writing essays in English. Marcus, who had been bugging his parents to get him a dog and who’d helped his mom make breakfast every Sunday morning.
Time seemed to bend and shift. The classroom disappeared. Angel had been on a job, protecting some rich banker who’d pissed off the wrong South American drug runners. He and his boss at the time, Tanner Keane, had been holed up with the family at an out-of-the-way cabin near Asheville. Because who would look for the banker and his family in North Carolina?
Angel had been in town buying groceries when the call came in. A state trooper had broken the news about the rainstorm and the single-car rollover. He’d said that both the driver and passenger had died instantly. They hadn’t suffered.
Angel remembered listening to the information but not believing it. Not understanding Marie and Marcus were gone. Later, he’d been grateful for the knowledge that they’d gone quickly, but at the time he’d told the officer he was wrong. He had to be wrong. Because Angel had spoken to Marie not an hour before. She’d never said it was raining.
Tanner had sent Angel home on the company jet. Their family doctor, also a close friend, had identified the bodies, but Angel had insisted on seeing them. He’d ignored the blood, the broken bones and held each of them. But he’d been too late. They were cold and whatever had made them the people he loved had been gone.
Tanner’s wife, Madison, had made all the arrangements for the funeral. Angel had started drinking and he hadn’t stopped for nearly six months. In that time he’d thought about putting a gun to his head. The only thing that had stopped him was the knowledge that Marie would be so disappointed if he did.
He’d tried to work through the stages of grief—but he kept coming back to anger. And the person he couldn’t forgive was himself. Because if he’d been there—if he’d been driving—they would both still be alive.
“Angel?”
Angel felt more than heard Raoul speaking his name. He was pulled back to the present with a gut-clenching jerk. The past faded and he was left standing in a classroom with five teenage boys staring at him.
He forced himself to remain in this moment, to introduce himself and shake hands with the kids. He learned their names and their stories. But all the while, all he could think about was his son. The son he would never see again. The son he hadn’t been able to save.