Enforcer (Seattle Sharks Book 2)

by Samantha Whiskey

  I polished off my scotch. “Like maybe I don’t care what happens if I lose everything else, as long as I have him.”

  She hissed and poured me another. “That’s the dirty-girl in you talking, and I’m beyond glad the list and Rory has brought her out in you, but you’ve got to find the balance between the brilliant woman you are—and all the responsibilities that go with her—and the girl who needs to cross off everything on that list.”

  “I don’t care about the list anymore. I care about being out of control of my own choices.”

  “You’re in control, Paige. You always are. You just need to figure out a way to manage both.” She placed her hand on my back.

  “What if I can’t? What if the only thing I manage is to fuck everything up.”

  Jeannine raised her glass to mine and clinked the rim. “You won’t.” After a good, long drink she set her glass on the bar and leaned on her elbows to get close to me. “But if you do I’m always hiring.”

  I chuckled and rubbed my palms over my face. They still smelled like Rory’s skin and the ever-present craving for his presence wrenched in my core. I silenced it with a prayer that I could find the balance Jeannine spoke of. Find a way to be the woman the world and my company needed me to be, and the woman who loved Rory Jackson with her whole heart. Now I had to hope he wouldn’t crush it.

  Chapter 13

  Rory

  “One more time, Uncle Rory!” Lettie squealed as I pushed her on the swing on the fort I’d help Gage build for her fourth birthday. I sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the stitch in my side. Forget grueling hockey practices, Lettie could outlast Coach and half the Sharks on the team.

  I held up my finger, exaggerating my need for oxygen a little for theatrics. “One. More. Time.”

  She giggled, her cute little smile stretching across her tiny face as she wiggled in the seat of the swing.

  “Hang on tight,” I whispered as I pulled the swing back slowly, dragging out the anticipation before letting her fly.

  Her delighted scream filled the backyard and was infectious enough to have me laughing too.

  “Ready to crank out a kid?” Gage asked, handing me a beer as he returned from his trip to the cooler on the back patio.

  I took a hard gulp, unable to answer with one of my usual quick quips.

  “Shit,” Gage said, laughing as he shook his head.

  “What?” I tried to rally. “No man can be around Lettie for more than an hour and not want kids.”

  He smacked my back with his free hand and leaned against the wooden fort as Lettie took off at breakneck speed to zoom down the slide a hundred times in a row. Or at least that is what it looked like.

  “She’s my world.” Gage had that faraway look in his eyes, the one that only showed up if Lettie or Bailey were in the room.

  I chugged another swallow, my grip tightening around the bottle. “This family stuff,” I said, motioning with my bottle to Lettie and then toward Bailey where we could just barely see her through the kitchen window. “Is it all it’s cracked up to be?”

  He shifted, pushing off the fort to stand in front of me. “Rory Jackson,” he said my name like he’d just put together a puzzle. “It finally happened.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Eat shit.”

  Gage laughed. “You’re in love.”

  My nostrils flared as I struggled to breathe—for real this time. “What if I was?”

  He shrugged. “There isn’t a better woman out there, except for my Bailey of course. And they’ve been friends for years. Paige is smart, sexy, and just about the only woman I’ve ever seen lengthen that short fuse of yours. I’m shocked it’s taken you this long to realize it.”

  I snorted, finishing off my beer. He wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t shake the cold eating away at my gut.

  “What’s up?” Gage pressed me when I didn’t respond.

  I shook my head, spinning the empty bottle in my hand. “I don’t want to fuck it up,” I admitted, finally looking him in the eye. He was the closest I’d ever had to a brother, and I knew he’d give it to me straight. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this life.” I gestured to the area around us—Gage’s perfect house, with his perfect daughter, and perfect fiancé carrying yet another perfect child in her belly.

  “Please, you’re amazing with Lettie.” He scoffed.

  “That’s because she’s Lettie. And besides, I’m not there yet.” I shifted my weight. “Paige is unlike any woman I’ve ever been with. Add to that the insane heat her company puts on her for every little thing she does? I could easily ruin things for her. My temper…” The breath stalled in my lungs, the thought of things going south because I couldn’t control the rage that lived inside my veins had my chest tightening.

  “Have you talked to her about…” Gage hesitated until he caught my eye. “You know?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. Figured I’d better wait another month or so before I drop the bomb on her. No one wants to know about an abusive childhood only a month into a new relationship.” That and I honestly didn’t want her to know I had a monster’s blood in my veins—that my father was the source for the instant fight trigger I possessed.

  Gage winced but nodded. He was the only other person I’d ever told about my past, about why I was always ready to finish a fight if someone even breathed on me the wrong way. It was how I’d had to live for years under my father’s rule, and it was the only way I’d known how to live after I escaped him at sixteen. I left home and never looked back. Fuck, my mother had helped me pack. She’d believed I was the cause of his anger, that I brought it out in him instead of there being something internally wrong with him.

  “Anyway,” I said, shaking out my limbs that had clenched on their own. Shit, it’d been years, and the thought of the past still had the ability to pump adrenaline through my veins as if I were five and helpless again. I may have cut all family ties, but I’d carried the need to never feel weak around with me as a constant reminder of who I’d never allow myself to be again. “I don’t want who I am to ruin who she is.”

  “Can’t you ever give yourself some credit, man?” Gage took a drink of his beer. “I mean, look at you. It’s only been a month with her, and you’re playing better, on and off the ice. I’ve never seen you happier, or more with your shit together.”

  I nodded. Even coach had noticed, and I couldn’t deny I liked the way my life felt with her in it—complete, hopeful, hot as hell. “Honestly, man. Do you think I stand a chance? I can’t see clearly. Paige is clouding up my mind with dreams of a future I may not deserve.” I looked him in the eye, needing to see the absolute truth from him. “Tell me to stay away from her. Tell me to stop this before I get in too deep and taint her perfect image.”

  “I can’t,” he said, clamping his hand on my shoulder. “She’s too good for you, sure. But so is Bailey for me. It doesn’t matter. You love her?” He eyed me, needing the confirmation.

  “Fuck, yeah man. I love her.” I nearly choked on the sweet words, but they were there, and once spoken, hardened into the kind of foundation I could build on with Paige. A real life. A real family. A real future.

  He nodded, like that was the answer to every doubt I had. “Good. Remember that. Whenever you feel yourself slipping into that old punch first ask questions later feeling—off the ice at least—remember that. Use her to put a lock on that lifestyle for good. You’ll be better off for it, happier too.”

  I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and pressed my lips together as I smacked the arm on my shoulder. “Thanks, bro. I needed that.”

  “Should we hug this shit out?” Gage laughed, reaching out to me like a giant bear going in for the bone-crushing attack.

  “Hell no!” I ducked out of his would-be embrace, chuckling as Lettie opted to turn it into a game, running from her daddy the bear. She’d just saved me from sudden death when my cell buzzed in my pocket. I took a quick time out to read the text.

  COACH: You have
ten minutes to get to my office. I don’t give a shit where you’re at.

  COACH: TEN. MINUTES.

  “Ah what the fu—” I stopped myself short as I drew my eyes back up, noticing Lettie only a foot away from me as she hung off Gage’s neck like a monkey.

  “What’s up?” He asked.

  I scrunched my eyebrows and shrugged. “Coach. He’s pissed, but I haven’t got a clue what about.”

  Gage cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “What?” I asked innocently. “I’ve been a good little boy.”

  “Anything before this past month that could’ve had a delayed release?”

  My eyes glazed over as I tried to think that far back, it felt like a year had passed not a month. Paige had shaken up my world enough to fuck with time now. “I don’t think so?” I honestly didn’t have a clue but rushed up to Lettie and planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for the talk,” I said to Gage as I hurried toward his house.

  “You going to grab that ratchet set on your way out?” Gage called just as I made it to his back door.

  I turned around and shook my head, nearly forgetting that was the excuse I’d given him when I’d showed up unannounced at his door. He knew it was bullshit.

  “Next time.” I ducked inside and stormed out his front door with a muttered apology to Bailey.

  I took the highway, speeding well over the limit toward the rink. I’d just gotten off of Coach’s shit-list and wouldn’t give him another excuse to put me back on it.

  Sprinting into the building and through the locker room, I made it with about twenty seconds to spare. Flushed and out of breath, I knocked on his opened door.

  “Coach?”

  He spun around in his chair, the purple vein in his forehead already puckered and throbbing.

  Fuck my life. What had I done?

  “Sit.” He motioned to the chair across from his desk, and I sank into it.

  “What is going on?” I blurted out, unable to keep my mouth shut. I’d busted my ass at practices, killed it in games, and had steered clear of the bars for a month now. I shouldn’t be getting these kind of texts from Coach, damn it.

  He rested his elbows on the desk, threading his fingers together as he took a long, deep breath. “You remember when I told you I was proud of you?”

  Acid bubbled up in my throat, and I swallowed it down. “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you think that was code for go off the rails again?”

  “What? No. Of course not.”

  “When I said Ms. Turner was good for you, did you think I meant she’s good for you why don’t you rake her through the coals, publically?”

  “Excuse me for saying this, sir, but what in the absolute hell is going on?”

  Coach huffed, unimpressed by my complete obliviousness to whatever the situation was. He spun his monitor around, showing me the photograph that took up half of his large screen. I squinted at the shot, my mind quickly trying to rationalize when it had been taken.

  Linda had her arms wrapped around my neck, my hands on her hips as I looked down at her outside the rink.

  “Fuck!” I snapped, instantly clenching my jaw. Next to that picture was one of Paige, alone as she wiped tears from her eyes. It was a close-up shot as if the paps had zoomed in on her face, but I recognized the collar of the T-shirt she had—mostly because I remembered peeling it off her after a long, hard day of working at her site.

  The headline suggested I was a cheating bastard who had broken Paige’s heart and now her emotional stability and well-being was in question.

  “This is bullshit, Coach.” I jerked my hand toward the images.

  “Is it?” He snapped. “There are ten more sites running the same images. Each one has a different story. Some are saying she stole you from the other one, labeling her as an adulterator.”

  “It’s not true!” I bolted out of my seat, the adrenaline raging in my blood too much to take sitting. “That shot was taken months ago. Before Paige and I even…” Saying her name was like a reminder to take a deep fucking breath, so I did.

  He examined me through narrowed eyes but eventually sighed.

  “I believe you,” Coach finally said, eyeing the seat. I sat back down, each one of my muscles locked and tense. “But this is exactly the kind of shitstorm we don’t need. We have an actual shot at the Championship this season, and a media war with a company like CranBaby won’t help you keep your head in the game.”

  “Coach, I promise you this has no grounds. Paige and I…well, I love her.” Shit might as well make a fucking announcement on the hottest gossip blog for how many people I was spouting my feelings too. Maybe it would help squash this shit. “I would never do anything to hurt her. Especially something like that.” I pointed to the screen again, and he turned it back toward him. “It’s the damn paps. They’re out for blood.”

  “Aren’t they always?” Coach rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. “I had to see your reaction, son. That’s why I called you over here so quickly. I believe you. I can see it in your eyes you love this girl.” He finally looked up at me. “But can I offer some advice?”

  “Please.”

  “Lay low. The both of you. Stay out of public for a while, give the bloodhounds time to get bored and hunt for someone else.”

  I nodded, wishing like hell I could track down the pap who’d snapped that shot of Linda and me. I fucking remembered the day. I’d been pushing Linda away, not pulling her closer. Fucking reporters.

  “Is Paige handling this all right?” Coach asked, and I snapped my head up, my eyes popping wide. I stood up, my mouth hanging open. Had she seen it yet? Had her father?

  “I have to go.” I turned toward the door before stopping. “I mean, am I…is it okay if I—”

  “Go,” Coach cut me off. “Be honest with her. Make sure she knows the truth.”

  “Right,” I said and bolted out the door. Seemed like all I was doing today was running. Only now I was headed toward a storm I didn’t know I’d survive. If Paige didn’t believe me—believe that picture was months old—then I’d lose her.

  Ice cold fear clung to my gut as I sank behind the wheel of my SUV. I’d only just now realized I loved her and I wasn’t about to let anyone fuck it up for me.

  Chapter 14

  Paige

  “Explain.” My father slapped a thin magazine down on my desk, the force of the action making me jump.

  The cover of the magazine completely overshadowed the proposal outlined I’d been reading before he’d burst in. I studied the picture for several moments and re-read the headline and subtext four times.

  Busty-VP of Cranbaby Organics, Paige Turner, steals bad-boy enforcer for the Seattle Sharks, Rory Jackson, from his widely rumored girlfriend, Linda Wallace, who has been a permanent seat warmer at the Shark’s stadium for the past two seasons. Perhaps this well-known-do-gooder isn’t as innocent as we all are meant to believe.

  The words were laid above a picture of Rory gripping the hips of a blonde bunny I’d seen more times than I could count outside the Sharks’ locker room. A crack opened up in my chest just enough to sear. He’d said we were real. And before that, he’d signed a damn contract assuring me exclusivity.

  Notorious player. Bed-hopping bad-boy. The names the media had often used to describe him flashed in my mind, each time filling my head with more and more doubt. Was he playing me?

  “Well?” My father snapped before I could gather my thoughts enough to make a decision. He loosened the tie around his neck, and I put a lock on the tears threatening to escape my eyes. Now was not the time to show emotion. Not here. Not at work. In front of my father/boss.

  “This picture could’ve been taken at any time before we met,” I said, rising from my seated position to match his stance. “He wasn’t attached when we started dating.” The emphasis I put behind my words was almost enough to convince my heart, but a history of Rory’s promiscuity had doubt seeping through every crack I had in the wall around my heart. The same hea
rt that Rory had recently branded his fucking name on. “She could be a friend,” I added as I glanced down at the picture again.

  Father rolled his eyes. “The article suggests a hell of a lot more than friendship, Paige. The other woman is quoted as heartbroken.” He paced in front of my desk.

  My chest tightened at the words. Shit. “This is what the paparazzi do. Twist things. Rory wouldn’t do this—”

  “He would! That’s who he is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is exactly the reason I told you to stay away from him.”

  “What? You told me I was a grown woman capable of making my own choices!” I was thankful for the desk between us because I had the urge to strangle him.

  “Clearly I thought you were smart enough to make the right decisions.”

  “You mean the decisions you’d make for me.”

  He tossed his hands in the air. “Well, what would you have me think? Our public relations team has gotten over thirty calls about the situation, not even mentioning the angry consumer emails we’ve received, and this only released this morning! I won’t even discuss the forums on the blog because they’re downright malicious.”

  I shook my head and pressed the intercom on my desk. “Get me, Kelsey. Quickly, please.”

  “Right away, Ms. Turner.” I took my hand off the intercom and looked my father in the eye.

  “I will handle this.”

  “You have to. Regardless of the legitimacy of these claims we are now suffering a backlash. I’d suggest you issue a public statement as soon as possible.” He lowered his voice to the tone he reserved for getting his way in any sort of deal. “A statement denying real romantic ties to Rory Jackson would be the best avenue to take.”

  I gaped at him for a moment before I shoved my cell in my purse. Kelsey walked through the door, saving me from going off on my own father. I motioned to the seat behind my desk, her eyes darting between my father and me as she sat down. “I need you to filter directions on all our social media sites—post my statement and run interference. Try to cool the heat hitting us.” I slipped my purse over my shoulder and walked around my desk.