by Lia Riley
“A couple that knew each other for years prior,” Tor grumbled.
“And had their heads shoved so far up their own asses that their assholes had assholes.”
Tor looked bemused, but when he glanced up to lock eyes on his fierce-eyed fiancée, it was clear that nothing but affection was in his tone. “Can I help you, Angel?”
“With so many things. Like can you order takeout tonight? I’m feeling like orange chicken from that new Chinese joint on the corner.”
“That’s why you’re here?”
“That and I saw Patch walking into your office. And the door didn’t shut all the way. So I just so happened to have lurked outside to listen to what you two men were talking about. And I heard a little about love feelings and how they applied to one of my best friends.”
Tor snorted. “You can be head of Public Relations for a thousand years and you’ll still be a nosy reporter.”
“I can’t help what’s in my blood,” she said without apology. “And those who want to be off the record should close their doors, just saying. Now.” She clapped her hands and pointed at Patch. “You.”
“What about me.”
“You said you have feelings for Margot? Real feelings?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Realest ones I know.”
“Did she tell you about her ex-boyfriend who tracked her down in the parking lot? Grabbed her arm. Scared her half to death.”
“Yeah.” His world tinged red. He sucked in a deep breath. “Last night.”
“My sister filled me in. I was just on my way to go have a word with good ol’ Stefan. You want to ride shotgun while I track him down?”
“I know where he works.”
“Jesus, Angel.” Now Tor was on his feet. “The kid is already ass-to-eyeballs with the ramifications from his last fight. Don’t go dragging him into another.”
“He accosted my friend. That can’t stand.”
“No.” Tor raked a hand through his hair. “No, it can’t. But there’s got to be a better way than issuing justice through a back-alley beatdown.”
“God, when you talk like that it sort of turns me on,” Neve breathed.
Tor glared daggers. “Angel.” Warning laced his tone.
“Gunnar.” She met his glare with a nuclear scowl.
Patch unleashed a low whistle. This woman was tiny but scary. “Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you.”
“This guy.” Neve glanced over with a wry smile. “I’m liking you more and more.”
“Both of you quit arguing before World War III breaks out.” Patch stepped between them before wondering if that was wise.
“Argue?” Neve looked honestly confused. “This is how we always talk.”
He glanced at Tor for confirmation.
“She’s not lying,” he said with a shrug. “We’re not normal, but we seem to work.”
“What can I say, fighting is our foreplay.” Neve shrugged.
“TMI,” Tor said with an exasperated chuckle.
“I’ll pretend I never heard that. And don’t worry. I’ve already got a plan. And—”
“Neve?” An executive assistant appeared in the coach’s doorway, holding a tablet with a concerned face. “Thank goodness. Jason thought you were here. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” Neve wrinkled her brow. “I was at my desk fifteen minutes ago.”
“A lot can change in fifteen minutes.”
That’s when Patch realized the assistant was casting him short, furtive stares. And not of interest either. More like disgust. And fear.
And her stares weren’t lost on Neve or Coach.
“What’s going on?” Tor said, holding out his hand for the tablet.
“This interview just went live.” The assistant placed it in his hands.
Patch didn’t move as Neve and Tor hunched together. He had ears. He could hear what they were saying.
Looked like Guy Footscray was going on the offense. With the settlement tomorrow, he was trying to turn the crank, attack. He’d gone to a tabloid and said Patch tried to drug a girl at the bar.
“I saw him put a powder in the drink. I hate trashing a hero, but from where I stand that doesn’t look heroic to me,” Tor read, before lowering the tablet.
Patch felt the intensity in his gaze. He looked as though if he glared hard enough, he would be able to see the truth.
Patch squared his shoulders. He had a reputation for fighting. For being gruff. For not always having command of his emotions. In this moment, he had a choice. Was he going to pay the jerk off and make this whole situation go away like his lawyers advised? He wouldn’t have to admit to guilt. But the world would think settling meant he did it. Until recently, he hadn’t given a shit what the world thought. He’d even welcomed their hate, like Sully had said.
But he could quit blaming himself for not saving his mom, being enough to make her get clean and live, for carrying the guilt of his failure like a yoke, plowing a barren field for the rest of his life.
He could fight for the truth.
He didn’t deserve to be punished.
“I didn’t do it,” he said.
“Can you prove it?” Neve asked, crossing her arms.
“Nope.” He shook his head. “My word against his, I guess.”
“Where’s the girl involved?”
Patch shrugged and explained the real story in curt sentences.
“What a damn mess,” Tor said.
“A public relations nightmare,” Neve chimed in.
“I’m sorry,” Patch said.
“No.” If Neve was nuclear before over Stefan, two hydrogen bombs exploded in her eyes now.
Patch half expected that if he glanced up, a mushroom cloud would be towering overhead.
“You aren’t giving that lying liar a single cent,” she said. “I believe you. And for what it’s worth, you have the full weight of the Hellions behind you for support.”
“For real?” Patch glanced at Coach.
“If that guy did what you said? I want you to fight,” Tor said.
“Thank you. For believing me.”
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Neve said. “But you’re not the predator; he is. I’m going to issue a statement.” She leaned down and planted a kiss on Tor’s cheek before walking away.
“I came to tell you about Margot because I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking the opportunity to work with her seriously,” Patch said. “You’ve given me chances. More than anyone. And if you want Reed to start for a few games while this goes down . . . I want you to know . . . I understand.”
“What’s your job on the team?”
“Is this one of your rhetorical questions?”
A ghost of a smile. “Sure is.”
“Fine. I’ll bite. I’m the goalie.”
“And I’m the coach. Are you responsible for the lineup?”
“No, I’m not. I was just saying—”
“I don’t care who you love or don’t love, as long as when you show up on the rink, you are playing with your head. And if you can have your head in the game on Saturday night, you’re starting. Can you have your head in the game?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, I can.”
“Good. Then we’re on the same page. Now get outta here. Get some rest. You’re going to need it for tomorrow.”
Patch moved to walk out. “Oh and one more thing,” Tor called right as he reached the door. “Tell me, have I ever said that I’m glad you’re here? That it’s a god damn privilege watching you play?”
Stunned, Patch shook his head. “Can’t say you have.”
“Ah. I see.” Tor picked up a pair of black-frame glasses and shoved them on his face. “Then that’s an oversight on my part.”
Coach didn’t say more. That wasn’t his way. And Patch was glad because shit, he could handle only so much. But as he walked out, knowing his team was behind him, that Coach believed in him, was proud of h
im, then combined with the presence of Margot in his life he had courage.
His walk turned into a jog and into a run.
He wasn’t going to back down. And he wasn’t going to accept the bad stuff life threw his way as his deserved punishment.
He didn’t have to live haunted by ghosts.
Not anymore.
Chapter Nineteen
Patch asked Margot not to come with him to the law office. “It’s going to be a three-ring circus, babe,” he’d said, kissing her on the nose as she finished her morning sun salutations.
“I don’t want you to face it alone.” Margot frowned, wiping a gym towel over her damp brow.
“And I appreciate it. I do.” He slid on his shirt, his hair still wet from the shower. “But the world doesn’t get to drag you into my shit. I’m a big boy. I’ll take care of business. Let me get in my head and do what I gotta do.”
“I’m a big girl. And if you hurt, I hurt. That’s how it works.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt me.”
“I’m into peace and love, but I swear to God, if Guy Footscray opens his fat mouth and tries to blame his predatory behavior on you, then I’m going to stick him in a vegan pizza oven myself.”
“Note to self. Never piss off a hippie.”
“Damn straight. Namaste, motherfuckers.”
He burst out laughing, grabbing her off the yoga mat and hauling her against the wall.
“I’m having déjà vu,” she said, tapping her chin.
“Pretty sure you were in this position an hour ago.”
“Ah yes, sorry. All this monkey sex really blurs together.”
He growled low in his throat, a mock glower on his features. “I blur for you.”
“Sadly, no. I can picture us all too clearly.” She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “All the time. I can be at the grocery store, picking up my kombucha before class, and suddenly, I’m back in my bedroom, worshipping your cock. These fantasies are getting to be a problem.”
“Then I wish you nothing but a life riddled with this problem.”
She wiggled, wanting to get loose and he let her go. That’s how Patch was. He never hung on or forced her to do a single thing she didn’t want to do. And because of that, they worked well together.
She opened his suit pants.
“Babe,” he groaned as she slid to her knees. “I’m going to be late.”
“Hang on, your cock is trying to tell me something. What’s that, boy?” she tilted her head, pretending to listen intently. “You want to slide down my throat? Have me do that thing with my tongue?”
“Shit, the tongue thing? Fine. I’ll pencil you in.”
“Don’t worry. I have it on good authority that I can work fast.”
She slid her mouth over his head, wrapping her fingers around the root. He twitched in her mouth, and she loved it. She loved that she blew his mind with everything she did. And she didn’t take his lack of experience for granted. She wouldn’t just phone it in, assuming he’d be impressed with anything.
Nope. She was playing her all-star game.
Which got tricky when a guy was as thick as he was. Relaxing her throat, she took him down, down, gagging a little at the halfway point.
“Shit, you don’t have—”
She pulled off. “I don’t have to. I want to. You’re gorgeous. And trust me, I don’t mind a challenge.” She got him all in this time and began to work his shaft in a bobbing rhythm, flicking her tongue at the base of his head to drive him wild.
And true to her word, she got him there fast, especially when she used her other hand to brush his sac, kneading the sensitive skin with tender pressure.
“Babe. Shit. Babe.” His hands buried in her hair, pulling as he began to lose control, come apart, buck in her mouth. “Careful. I’m close, I’m going to . . .”
She grabbed his hard ass and urged him harder, not to hold back, to let go and she could handle.
“How am I supposed to function,” he rasped once he was spent. “I think you just sucked my brains out.”
She licked her lips with a Cheshire grin. “While you are brainless, this is a good time to mention that while I won’t walk in with you . . . I’m absolutely planning on being at the law offices. Neve is going to drive me. Breezy’s coming too. You’re our people now. And we don’t mess.”
They both cleaned up and she got dressed. Patch left first and Margot waited until she heard the front door close before picking up her phone.
She had some unfinished business of her own to attend to.
Stefan answered on the first ring.
“Hot Pants. I thought I might be hearing from you.”
“Oh?”
“If you want me to forgive you, you’ll have to make it worth my while.”
She made a face at the phone. Oh this sad little man. It almost hurt to destroy him.
“I’m not calling to apologize for anything.”
“Then why are you wasting my time?” he shouted over the background sound of a noisy gym.
“You lost.”
“What?” The sound faded as if he stepped outside.
“You wanted to take something from me. My peace of mind. My security. My right to say no. And I just wanted you to know that none of it worked. I’m happy, do you hear that? More than happy, I’m in love.”
“With a freak?” Stefan spat. “Congrats.”
“No. A good man. A guy who is better than you in every way. I’m too strong to be around fragile masculinity. You could never handle me or my past. You wanted me to be small. To be some plaything just for you. But I’m too big to be shoved into some guy’s box. Where I’ve been has made me who I am now. And I like this woman. I’m proud of her. So take this last opportunity and enjoy it. Savor it up.”
Stefan cleared his throat. “Savor what?” The cockiness had drained from his voice. He sounded like what he was, unconfident and small.
“The sound of my voice, because if you ever, and I mean ever contact me again, I’ll hit you with a restraining order so hard that your head will land in the next county.”
And with that she hung up and blocked his number. Good God . . . she felt like Wonder Woman.
And the feeling only increased once Neve and Breezy picked her up and drove her to the offices of Barker, Barker & Barker.
“It seems like they could have just gone for Barker,” Breezy quipped as they got out.
A few members of the press milled by the front steps.
“Ugh,” Neve groaned. “Look. Todd’s here. From the AP. He’s an idiot. Why don’t I try and diffuse the situation?”
“You do what you have to do,” Margot said. “I’m going around the side entrance.”
“How do you know there’s a side entrance?” Breezy asked.
She held up her phone. “There’s this thing called Google Earth. It’s pretty magical. Especially the zoom feature.”
“Stealth.” Breezy high-fived her. “Look at you go.”
“I won’t barge in the offices. But I hate having him in there alone.”
“Is he face-to-face with the jerk?”
Margot shook her head. “He said they’ll be kept in separate offices. Lawyers will go between them trying to work out a deal.”
Neve frowned. “And there’s not going to be a deal.”
“Nope.” Margot exaggerated the p. “If this goes to trial, it could screw over the rest of Patch’s season. And worse, there’s just no proof. Only his word. And he’s not the type to try and use the biggest microphone.”
Another car pulled up, a nondescript brown sedan. A priest climbed out, young, kind-faced, a little round, with close-clipped hair and a thinning patch in the back.
“Morning, Father,” Breezy greeted him.
“Are these the law offices of Barker and Barker?” he asked, polishing his glasses on a cloth handkerchief as they fogged in the winter air.
“And Barker,” Margot added.
He looked confused.
“
It’s the law offices of Barker, Barker & Barker.”
“Why don’t they just say Barker?” the priest asked.
“Thank you!” Breezy said, throwing up her hands.
“Wait a second, are you . . . Sully?” Margot asked. Patch had told her about his best friend, a priest who worked in Sun Valley, one of Denver’s poorest neighborhoods.
“Father Sullivan, my child,” he chided, exuding an air of pious formality.
“Oh right, sorry,” she fumbled.
“I’m just messing with you,” he said, cracking a wide smile. “Let me guess. You are Magical Margot.”
She raised her brows. “Magical?”
“I’ve never seen Patch like this, and I’ve known him for over ten years.”
“And how is that?”
“At peace.” The priest put his hands on her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. “You brought him peace.”
Margot swallowed thickly before tossing her head. “Did you come to offer thoughts and prayers?”
“Actually, I used to play hockey myself.”
“Patch told me. He said you were good.”
“I was. He was better, the asshole. But I thought about bringing my old stick.”
“To the law offices.”
“I want to see Guy Footscray.”
“Are you threatening violence, Father?”
“Lead me from temptation.” He pressed his hands together and looked up at the sky.
Another press van pulled up to the front.
“I’ve got to get over there,” Neve said. “See if I can throw some water on the fire.”
“I’m coming too.” Breezy trotted over.
“And you?” Sully asked.
“I was going to slip in at the side door. I won’t barge up to the office. But I want to be close.”
“Want company?” He offered his arm.
She took it. “I’d love some.”
Chapter Twenty
Patch broke the news of his decision upon arriving in the law office. “I’m gonna fight this tooth and nail. No settlement.” As expected Guy put up a fight. They’d gone three rounds of negotiation, lawyers shuffling between the two rooms as go-betweens. Guy wanted the money to make a point. That was his official line. But now that Patch was being difficult he also wanted an apology thrown in, a public one.
