Enforcer
Page 44Grabbing a couple of champagne flutes, I offered one to Paige. She smirked but didn’t bring the drink to her lips.
“What’s so amusing?” I asked, wincing from the sugary sweetness the champagne left in my mouth. I was always going to be a beer or scotch kind of guy. Something flashed behind her eyes, but she quickly blinked it away before I could register what it had been, if anything at all.
“I was just thinking I’ve only seen one view better than this.” She motioned toward the skyline, and it took me a minute before the memory hit me. The night I’d brought her to my place and fucked her on my balcony.
“Is that all you ever think about?” I asked, pretending to be offended. The fact that she wanted me as badly and as often as I wanted her—despite making love almost every day this week—only made me love her that much more.
She smacked my chest before taking the flute out of my hands. “I’ll hunt you down something stronger.”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. I hadn’t had a hard drink in public since the night I’d been arrested for the brawl. The same night of the gala at the Four Seasons. I’d been on my best behavior, and I knew too much liquor only made my already short fuse shorter. Plus, we’d just sailed through playoffs and were on our way to the Stanley Cup. Staying sober seemed responsible. Boring, but responsible.
Paige reached up and smoothed a crease between my brow. “Relax. I’m here.” She squeezed my hand. “And you’ve killed yourself in the rink all week. You deserve a drink.” She winked, but I didn’t let go of her hand, instead electing to follow her to the bar. Paige was like a lifeline—as long as we stayed connected nothing could touch us, paparazzi or vengeful puck bunnies alike.
The bar had been stationed before one of the exposed corners of the rooftop—the massive wooden structure decorated with a back-lit ice sculpture depicting the raising of the flag on Iwo Jima. Chase had been a well-known advocate for Wounded Warriors, and it was no surprise he’d sprung for the best at this event—which was one of thirty taking place in various portions of the country throughout the year, or so Paige had told me.
“Two fingers of scotch,” Paige asked the tender. “And a water, please.”
I squeezed her hand. “We have a driver tonight,” I whispered in her ear. “You can indulge too.”
She laughed, but the sound was tense. “I didn’t drink enough water today. I’ll have one later.”
I took my offered drink from the tender and slipped a twenty into the crystal vase used for collecting tips. Paige reclaimed my arm, and we weaved through the crowd, stopping each time she needed to mingle with someone. I drank my scotch plus one more and enjoyed watching her work the crowd. The woman never missed an opportunity to make new business acquaintances, and the sharpness of her mind turned me on almost as much as her tenacity for getting me into bed.
“Rory Jackson,” A slightly familiar voice took my attention off of Paige who spoke to a few people across the rooftop. I turned slightly, finding an Ontario enforcer—one of our biggest rivals and the same team that asshole Adkins played for. I glanced around the area, scanning for his face. It didn’t matter that Gage and Helen had worked their shit out, I still hated Adkins on principal, and he was the last person I wanted to see tonight. Trevor was a close second.
“Trevor,” I said, finishing the scotch in my glass. “Adkins with you tonight?” The muscles in my shoulders tensed as I waited for him to answer.
“No, he and the trophy wife are off buying diamonds or some shit.”
“Rory?” Paige’s voice came at me as she returned to her spot by my side. She took my empty glass and handed me a fresh one. I instantly took a large gulp.
The silence between the three of us bordered on awkward as I waited for Trevor to leave now that he’d made his presence known. “Thanks,” I finally said to Paige, who stood rigid next to me as her eyes jumped between Trevor and me.
“Red is a new color for you, Jackson.” He pointed to Paige with the long-neck in his hand. “Thought you liked the blonde bunnies.”
Instinctively my fist clenched tightly around the glass in my hand, his slow gaze lingering a little too long on Paige. I opened my mouth, but Paige’s response cut me off.
“Oh,” she said. “You’re Trevor Hewitt. Ontario’s enforcer. Sorry about your loss last week. Must’ve been rough.”
I smirked and fell a little more in love with her if that was possible.
Trevor had the gall to look impressed. “She’s smart too? Now that is really off the mark for you, Jackson.”
“Since when?” He took another swig of his beer, his lazy gaze falling on Paige again. “Don’t let him fool you, sweetheart. Not three months ago he was plowing through a haystack of traveling bunnies and tossing them like used cups.”
“Still sore about that beatdown I gave you then?” Every muscle I had flexed. “A little petty to goad me at a charity event. Save it for the game. I’ll remind you how my fist feels then.” I made my tone as sharp as a razor, my chest tightening from the ache in my bones to knock the greedy look off his face as he kept ogling Paige.
She tugged on my arm. “Come with me, will you? I’m dying to show you this ice sculpture,” she said, clearly giving me a free out from the heated situation. We’d already seen the sculpture, but I turned to follow her. We stopped at a clear space near the bar, and she reached up to cup my face.
“Rory, look at me,” she said, and I locked onto her emerald green eyes. “Remember why we’re here?”
I nodded, breathing deep but not enough to squash the adrenaline in my blood.