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After the current couple finished up their short program, which I found boring as hell, the announcer summoned “Jasper St. Pierre and Luna Garcia.” Lou was still competing under the assumed name she’d given to hide from her mother, since she’d been registered under that.
The two of them glided into the middle of the rink to assume their starting position. I found myself holding my breath as the music warbled through the arena.
And then they moved.
Synchronized spins leading into a triple axel, followed by some brisk footwork before they launched into their first lift. They hit every beat, their limbs flowing with the melody in a way I’d come to not just expect but admire.
Watching them without my pride getting in the way, I couldn’t deny that Jasper was still better than I was. Maybe not by much, and maybe I could nail a few of the specific poses with slightly more accuracy… but he had a power and artistry that I couldn’t quite match yet, no matter how much I’d heckled him before.
That was okay. It gave me a goal post to aim for. Someday, with enough practice and honing my skills, I’d get to the point where I could at least match the guy.
And the funny thing was, I could believe he’d now cheer me on when I did.
Beside me, Niko was beaming. “They’re really something, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” I said without a shred of resentment. “They really are.”
I tore my attention away to steal a quick glance at the crowd. To my satisfaction, everyone’s eyes were glued to Lou and Jasper with expressions of dazed amazement.
Well, everyone except for a few burly guys who looked unusually grim for an event like this. My gaze caught on them near the top of the aisle that led down to the opening where Lou and Jasper would come off the ice. One of them made a furtive gesture to the others, and they tramped down the steps toward that spot.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. These guys definitely weren’t typical figure-skating fans—they moved with an aggressive air that set off all my alarm bells. And the one with the heavy forehead and squinty eyes looked unnervingly familiar… Was he one of the thugs we’d caught searching our loft back in Austin?
Shit, shit, shit. Lou’s mom really had decided to fuck this up for her daughter. What had she ordered those pricks to do?
My hands clenched at my sides. My first impulse was to dash over there and confront the assholes, getting right in their faces. Defend Lou like I’d promised her I would, like I had before.
But even as I tensed on the bench, an image played out in my head of how that confrontation would probably go—with just me, my injured shoulder, and a gun I’d never fired at a human being before against those three goons.
I’d already been more of a champion than she’d ever expected—and I had two guys beside me who were just as eager to protect her. It was a hell of a lot more important that we made sure Lou wasn’t in any danger than that I got to take all the credit.
I cleared my throat. “Niko, Rafael, I think a few of the Deadly Rose’s thugs have just joined the party.”
When Rafael’s gaze jerked to me, I tipped my head toward the men I’d noticed. His expression hardened with a flex of his jaw.
“Motherfuckers,” he muttered.
Niko rested his hand against the side of his hooded sweatshirt. “I have my knife, if we need it.”
Rafael inclined his head, fury blazing in his dark eyes. “We don’t want to make a scene and distract from the performance. We go over there quietly and take care of things, fast and firmly.”
It was kind of a relief letting the actual bodyguard among us take the lead. Gripping the one crutch he was making do with now, he eased past the two of us. We followed, hunching low so as not to block people’s view on the higher rows.
We stepped out into the aisle as the thugs came to a stop just a few steps above us. Rafael moved toward them without hesitation, moving with his crutch as if it were an extra limb, so Niko and I flanked him.
When we reached them, he drew his gun in the space between us where no one else would be able to see it, keeping it low but clearly in view of the goons. He’d only gotten the cast on his dominant hand off days ago, but he held the weapon steadily enough. Taking my cue from him, I lifted the hem of my shirt to reveal the concealed holster at my hip.
“It’s time for you three to take off,” Rafael growled, low but forceful.
The guy in the lead eyed the weapons but adjusted his stance with a hint of a swagger. “Who the fuck do you think you are to order us around, you cripple?”
Rafael’s lips drew back to bare his teeth. “I think I could outshoot you in my sleep with my hands tied behind my back. Last time I checked, I don’t need my leg to pull a trigger.”
One of the other guys snorted. “Are we supposed to be scared by that?”
Rafael did the most terrifying thing he could have—he pushed his mouth into the fiercest grin I’d ever seen. “Yes. Because I’d happily see you six feet under just for whatever you’rethinkingof doing to my woman. If you try to actually do it, the only thrilling news from the arena today will be about three strange goons who were gunned down because they didn’t know what was good for them.”
I was practically pissing myself, and I was on his side. The thugs exchanged a glance, and I hooked my fingers around the grip of my own gun.
