Page 6 of Shots Fired

Moving closer, I cup my spare hand around my ear, grinning with rage. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear that last part. I mean, it’s possible I did, but you couldn’t be so fucking stupid to call a girl like Darcy Thompson a whore.”

His smile drops to a frown, and he backs up a few inches. “Her name is Darcy? She told me it’s Jessica.” He holds up a hand. “Wait, maybe you have the wrong girl.”

I continue closing the distance between us. There’s nothing he can say to calm my anger. He has the wrong girl all right, just not in the way he thinks.

“Aww, she’s given you a fake name. If you already have her digits, you’d best check they’re not fake too.”

You can even check against the ones I have since I know they’re for real.

His brows lift. “You’re a fucking lunatic—you know that?”

I shrug. He’s not wrong. “Crazy or not, I advise you to leave her alone and move on. You don’t want to find yourself tangled up in a mess.”

The guy looks like he’s considering my warning for a split second and then resets himself, shrugging back at me.“Whatever. I’m an innocent party with no idea of her real name, let alone who she’s banging on the regular. I’m only after a quick fuck with a smokeshow. And, goddamn, is she h?—”

Bang.

A couple of seconds pass before I catch up to my own actions.

Spitting blood into the sink, the guy hunches over it, clutching his jaw. “Jesus fucking Christ! Youarea lunatic. What the hell was that for?!”

I reach across to the wall and snatch a paper towel from the dispenser, handing it to him. “That was your final warning.” I lean over him, eyeing his shocked face in the mirror. “Wipe her face—and mine—from your memory bank and leave without another word, or my next hit will do the job for you.”

Dabbing at his chin, he slides from underneath me and heads for the restroom door, turning around momentarily. “You got some real issues.”

I raise an unaffected brow. “Not really. I just hate it when a guy trash-talks a girl. Toss in the fact that this one is basically royalty, and you got yourself a problem. Or in this case, a bloody jaw.”

He doesn’t say another word as he pulls open the door and disappears a second later.

After a few beats of silence, the reality of my actions starts to take hold.

It’s obvious who I am, and even if he has no proof of who laid the hit on him, he could take to socials and claim anything. The public loves to drag a celebrity.

Pulling out my phone and making for the restroom door, I quickly scroll through my Contacts until I find the one person who can help me right now. Or at least talk me through the self-inflicted mess I’ve created.

The bar music is louder as I stride past our table, ignoring Jack and Kendra as they talk to Darcy.

Good. At least she’s safe and away from the prick.

The line connects, andSawyer Bryce—my captain on and off the ice and the guy I always go to when shit gets real—says something, although I can’t make it out as I head for the exit.

“It’s Archer,” I yell.

He says something else, but again, I miss it all as I push out into the midnight air and circle around on the sidewalk, checking that no one is in earshot.

“Archer, what the fuck is going on?” Sawyer asks.

I continue walking down the street, blowing out a breath that does nothing to steady my anxiety. “You have to promise you won’t go nuclear on my ass.”

“I promise,” he replies, sounding less than convinced.

I consider cutting the call altogether and praying this doesn’t blow up in my face. If this gets out, I’ll be in the shit with the Blades and probably Jack. But worse still, Darcy will likely never speak to my crazy ass again. And I wouldn’t fucking blame her.

Nausea roils through me at the thought.

“Archer!” Sawyer commands.

I jolt and swallow hard. “Oh fuck, man. I think …” I break off, blowing out one last deep and ultimately futile breath. “I think I fucked up again. Only this time, it was over Darcy.”

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