“He was harassing?—”
“I don’t care, Forkerro,” Elliot snaps, holding up a hand to silence me. “That kid’s dad is a police officer. Did you know that? Regulars here. They’re en route, so you have two choices: I can let you out the back door or you can face the consequences head-on for a change.”
“Fuck,” Boston mutters in my ear, his sigh heavy.
Yeah,fuck.
It’s not like if I ran, I have the blessing of anonymity, anyway. There really isn’t a way I get out of this unscathed.
Leaving out the back door might sound appealing, but it’s also running from the scene of the crime. I don’t want to leave until I know if Red’s alright, anyway. A thousand scenarios about my impending future run through my head like a movie montage: coach finding out, the press having a field day with this story, how this kid’s dad is a fucking cop and he’s probably going to try and throw the book at me.
It’s all going to happen whether I high tail it out of here like a coward or just own my shit.
Who I am can only get me so many passes in life. I’m not sure I’ve deserved the hundreds I’ve already been given.
I sigh, glancing toward the door, where cops slowly begin entering the bar one by one.
“Thanks, Elliot, but I’m not going anywhere,” I say, shaking out my fist. It doesn’t matter how many punches you throw, it always hurts like a bitch afterward. I risk a look at Suit Guy, who is now sitting up and icing his face. His eyes are burning into mine with a fury that wasn’t there earlier. I know the type. Only gets brave once they have back-up. “Someone might want to call Coach.”
And maybe Lemmy, too. The lawyer sent from heaven.
“What?” Saltzy spins around, glaring at me. “Why thefuckwould we do that?”
Boston sighs for the tenth time and lets go of me. He runs his hand over his mouth, peering toward the seven officers making their way through the crowd. They take in the scene slowly, in that methodical and calculating way that cops do. Their eyes skim over the bloodied kid and land on the professional hockey team.
They land on me.
“Because,” I say, glancing back at my Captain, “I’m about to get arrested.”
CHAPTER THREE
carter
I sigh,pulling my hood completely over my head. The cops at the desk promised me there would be no photographers. Turns out, these particular boys in blue are fans of mine. Who knew? Love it when that happens. Still, I refuse to trust that paps won’t be lurking around and waiting for the perfect shot of Carter Forkerro, the fucking criminal.
Thankfully, my saviour parked his pretty little Range Rover right in front of the doors. He didn’t get out of the car or come into the station to wait for me, and I’m grateful for that. It’s probably for the same reason why I’m still yanking my hood over my head, despite there being nobody around. We want to go unnoticed. We were never here. Even though no amount of money or murder could prevent this story from hitting the news.
I practically dive into his vehicle, immediately letting out a groan as I bury my head in my hands.
Jail sucks. It smells like piss and it’s cold. Don’t go there. Stay in school, kids. Don’t drink alcohol and don’t punch people.
Declan says nothing as the lights in the vehicle dim, but he doesn’t drive either.
I peer over at him through my hands.
He’s uncharacteristically expressionless. Saltzy-level blank. His hat is pulled low on his head, but those hazel eyes burn holes into the side of my face anyway, then they dart down to my knuckles.
My very bruised, very bloodied knuckles.
“Coach is fucking pissed.”
Of course he is.
“Boston called me the second they put you in that squad car. You’re lucky that Penny loves you. After the fourth call, she made me pick it up. She’s probably finishing off the job that I wasverymuch enjoying as we speak, since I’ve been waiting out here all night for them to release you.”
I sigh, leaning back in my seat. I pissed off my coach and cock-blocked my best buddy in the same swing. That’s got to be a world record.
“Are they pressing charges?” he asks.
