“Well, of course,” he cries out and shrugs. “Playing hockey isn’t only a job for you, it’s your dream. It would be weirder if youweren’tscared of losing it. But I think you’ve learned this past month that you’re loved by the fans pretty fiercely.”
I hum in answer, then the last bit of news comes out tiredly. “Lottie texted that she has my back, Vinny and Si sent me a voice note just telling me they can already tell we’re going to be one of those couples who never stops kissing in public, and Patrick texted a thumbs-up only,” I admit sheepishly, because once the adrenaline rush wore off I felt bad about not running it by him and Cindy too.
“Then we’re good. We can ask Tucker if he thinks there’ll be any trouble later, but I doubt it.”
The reminder of the meeting we need to get to is annoying, but it does take my mind off our couple reveal.
It’s still surreal to think Eli’s part of a secret society that plots for the good? I thought such things didn’t exist even in fiction. Even if they’re not villains, I really don’t want to be part of any of it, but I’d do anything for Eli, and this shouldn’t be too hard, I don’t think.
It’s going to be wacky as hell, though. I don’t have any doubts about that.
Eli’s stepsdon’t falter as we walk into the room full of people on the seventh floor of a random Manhattan building.
Beyond discussing the logistics of getting here, we haven’t talked about the whole Turris thing in detail since we were at the hospital with the others, but I suspect Eli did talk about it with his father when he was with him after he woke up yesterday afternoon.
Since Michael’s recovery will be long, but he’ll be fine soon enough, I know I’m not going to be a part of this... group for much longer, and that’s a relief, but it doesn’t take away the nerves as I register faces.
Tucker is the only really familiar one.
Of course there’s Iris and Beatrice, who I got to know fairly well while we were at the hospital and Eli was battling it out with that Gotcha person.
What Eli failed to mention was that New York’s most notorious mobster would be here, sitting next to Harrison no less, chatting with a scary-looking smile on his face.
Everything he does, as far as I’m concerned, is scary.
I stop in my tracks just as my heart stops beating.
When it restarts, I feel a tingle in my arms and legs, and I know I’m going into fight or flight mode.
I’ve never been faced with a mobster before, and I don’t pay too much attention to the organized crime news of the city, but everyone knows Eian Dempsey, and everyone who has two working brain cells fears him.
Before I can pick Eli up and get the fuck outta here, Harrison sees us. He stands and walks over like we’re not all in immediate danger.
“Good, you’re here. Lex, let me introduce you.”
The names of all the men and women who he gestures toward get all jumbled up inside my head—well, except those I’ve met before, and there’s Jim Barclay of course, and Tuck.
I haven’t seen the Demons’ owner since they traded for me, and I realize it’s beyond inappropriate that this is how it’s happening.
No time to digest that, though, because then...
“Hi, I’m Colby. Big fan.”
“Colby Major,” I say, familiar enough with the former news anchor.
“That’s me,” he says with an easy smile before he steps just a little bit to the left, half his body pressed to the man I really don’t want to make eye contact with.
I’ve played with broken ribs before, broken fingers, even a sprained ankle and dislocated shoulder.
This could potentially hurt more, and it takes considerably more courage to turn from Colby’s hazel eyes and face the cold blue ones.
“I’m also a fan, and very glad you’re here to finally bring some glory to the Demons,” he says, his deep voice somehow projecting all the danger he represents.
“Uh, thanks,” I say because... well, what the fuck else am I supposed to say?
Me too?
“Eian is my cousin.”
