Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
“I should kick your ass,” she tells me.
“You can if you want.” I try giving her the tiniest, barest hint of a smile, checking to see exactly how angry with me she actually is.
“Ma’am, sir,” a manager says, interrupting us. “We cannot have this behavior here. Let me escort you out.”
“No, I want the police called,” Brent sputters.
“Go ahead. Tell them to come by anytime. I’m sure they’ll have lots to say after seeing the video footage of this whole exchange.” I point around the room, making sure Brent sees that there are several people with their phones held up to record. “I’m sure someone got the lead-up to me punching you. You know, when you called Kayla Harrington a cunt and I, Maddox Brooks, defended her.”
He pales, realizing that someone probably did get that part because Kayla standing over him definitely drew attention. And her name plus my name has a combined power he’s ill-prepared to deal with.
“This isn’t over,” he claims, sounding like a petulant child who’s not willing to give up yet even though he’s lost.
“Yes, it is,” Kayla declares before spinning smoothly to walk toward the restaurant’s front door, leaving not only Brent and David Jessup staring after her in shock, but Riggs and me too.
Quickly gathering my shit, I toss a couple of hundred-dollar bills on our table to more than cover our bill and follow her. Out front, she’s standing with the valet, whose eyes widen comically when he sees us charging toward her. Both Riggs and I crowd into her, chests to her shoulders, and I could try to explain that away as an attempt for privacy, but the truth is, I need to make sure she’s okay. On some deeply visceral level, what just happened in that restaurant scared the fuck out of me. Not the punch—can’t call one hit a fight—but the look on that guy’s face as Kayla stood up to him. He would’ve hurt her, not professionally. Physically. He’s the type so used to getting his way that when he doesn’t, the resulting kickback is a violent eruption. Not the ‘he always seemed so nice’ sorts, but the ‘he was always on the edge of breaking’ kind. And Kayla was way too close to the danger zone.
But either she didn’t recognize that or she thinks she’s fucking Superwoman and is impervious to what could’ve happened, because she’s only mad at us. No, at me.
“What was that?” she demands, close enough that I feel the angry heat of her breath.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not one of these fancy suit-wearing guys who’ll sit there and do nothing while some asshole talks shit to you. You were handling it, and I sat back so you could, but there are limits and I’ll enforce them if need be.”
Riggs doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to for me to know he feels the same way.
Her eyes narrow sharply. “And if I tell you not to?”
It’s an important question. Maybe one of the most important things she’s ever asked me given the intensity in her blue eyes. Deciding honesty is the best policy, I say, “Depends on the reason, but I’d probably do it anyway.” Her brow arches sharply, letting me know that was the wrong answer. But I’m not giving in that easily. Trying a different angle, I ask, “If it had been one of your new sisters-in-law catching that bullshit, you would have done what I did, but worse. And do you really wish I hadn’t made that fucker bleed?”
I gesture behind me, not to the restaurant but to Brent, who is probably inside still pleading his case and talking shit about Kayla to anyone who’ll listen. The idea makes me want to go back in there and hit him again.
She presses her lips into a thin line, and I’m expecting her to say that I should’ve acted more civilized. I can see the whole argument playing out in her mind. Hell, I can see it in mine too.
I don’t hit people casually. That’s not who I am. Even on the ice, I’m the skill guy, not the enforcer, leading the team for the past two seasons in least amount of time spent in the penalty box. And in my personal life, I believe in talking out your differences and removing oneself from situations when things are going too far. All that enlightenment went right out the window when Brent spat out that hatred at Kayla. I wouldn’t change what I did even if I could, and I’ll stand strong against any suggestion that I should’ve handled it differently.
After one more held breath, she exhales as the tension eases from her shoulders. “No. What I’m mostly mad about is that you did it before I could. You’re right, if they’d said that to Luna or Riley, I’d have blood on my hands. Literally.”