The man in the black jacket had been watching Javier for three matches, and Leo was starting to get nervous.
He sat in the third row of the bleachers, never taking notes, never looking at his phone. Just watching. His eyes followed Javier everywhere—serve, pass, hit, block. He didn't clap when Javier scored. He didn't frown when Javier made errors. He just watched.
Leo walked to the end of the bench and tapped Mateo's shoulder. “Who's the guy in the black jacket?”
Mateo looked up. “I don't know. He's been at our last three matches.”
“I noticed.”
“You think he's a scout?”
Leo looked back at the man. He was in his forties, fit, with a shaved head and a calm expression. He wasn't wearing any team gear. No logo. No colors. Just black.
“I don't know,” Leo said. “But I'm going to find out
