Page 90 of Play Dirty

“The sooner the better,” Gabe says. “Once the season starts, there isn’t a lot of time for much of anything. Hockey can be all-consuming.”

“We’re definitely going to sit down and talk about all that,” Marty says firmly. He lowers his head and whispers, “Thank you.” And I just smile.

He’s always protective with me, so I’m happy to reciprocate.

His phone rings, and he frowns as he checks it.

“Who’s that?” I ask when I see the look on his face.

“My divorce lawyer.”

“Uh oh.”

He sighs and answers the call. “Hey, Luke. What’s up?”

He’s quiet for a beat and then, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

His face turns red, and he’s shaking his head over and over.

“Fuck that and fuck her. No, we are not capitulating to shit. Do what you have to do. We’re fighting that—I don’t give a fuck what she says… No, we’re doing this my way. I’ll be in your office first thing tomorrow.” He disconnects and just stares off into the distance.

“What is it?” I ask softly. “What did she do?”

“She wants a restraining order.”

“Against you?” I ask, shocked.

“No.” He turns to me and his face is filled with fury. “Against you.”

Chapter29

Marty

There’sa two-hour time difference between Los Angeles and Nashville, so I wait a couple of hours before I call. We’re still at the party, but I excuse myself and go out to my SUV. I try to call before bedtime most nights, so this isn’t out of the blue, but I don’t give Brenna a chance to put them on when she answers.

“What the fuck did you do?” I demand.

“I did what was necessary to protect my children,” she says calmly.

“Is that so?” I mentally count to ten, reminding myself she doesn’t respond well to raised voices or anger. She does understand revenge, though. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be doing this.

“Marty, I know she’s beautiful, and I’m sure she’s a great lay, but seriously—have you done the research on her? Seen her for who she really is? There’s a reason two men left her at the altar and the third tried to kill her. I don’t like to victim blame, but?—”

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” I interrupt. “And here’s the thing, Brenna. Two can play this game. You want me to get a restraining order on Phil? Because I can. Has he told you about the fight at that bar in Ottawa? Where he pulled a knife on a minor league player? I mean, it’s not that hard to find dirt on anyone leading a public life.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m trying to protect them!”

“You’re jealous,” I snap. “Because Stevie is younger, prettier, and more successful.”

“That’s mean,” she says in a tight voice.

“And you’re not? This is a classic case of you not wanting me but you don’t want anyone else to have me either. California may be a no-fault divorce state, but there is absolutely fault when it comes to the kids. And I will dig up every time you so much as raised your voice in church if you don’t drop this restraining order bullshit.”

“You can’t do that!” she grinds out angrily. “You can’t!”

“I can and I will. Go ahead and test me, Brenna. Now put the kids on so I can say good night.”

“I’m not letting you talk to them!” She disconnects with a huff but I just smile.

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