Page 56 of Hard Hitter
“Wait—” Castro held up a hand. “Who’s eating whose underwear?”
He threw the card over his shoulder. “Jimbo—fine Smithy. Okay—last one.Buy her birthstone earrings. Not only are they pretty but it shows that you know when her birthday is.”
“Whoa!” Leo said. “Sneaky! I like it. Whose idea was that?”
O’Doul took the card from Jimbo’s hand. “There’s no name. Good idea, though. Anyone want to take credit?”
Slowly, Jimbo raised his own hand, his face reddening, and everybody laughed.
“Christ, kid. How old are you, anyway?”
“Nineteen.”
There was more laughter, and somebody called out “Jimbo for president!”
“Wait,” Castro said, bent over his notes. “What came right before the underwear? I might have missed a couple.”
O’Doul gathered the cards into his hand. “Get your own ideas. It’s been a pleasure, boys. We’re watching tape in forty-five minutes.”
He walked out of the breakfast room wondering if there was a bookstore nearby.
SIXTEEN
Ari had mixed feelings when she woke up alone. She’d promised herself to steer clear of men. And then she’d gone and had wild monkey sex on her massage table and clutched Patrick all night long as if he were her personal teddy bear.
It was glorious. And also a huge mistake.
Anyone would need a couple hours to herself to get her head on straight. That’s why she’d avoided him at breakfast, choosing instead to head over to the rink to chat with the trainers and set up her table for her first massage appointments. It was going to be a busy day, too. She gave three massages in a row before it was time for Patrick to show up for his.
But before he appeared, Hugh Major stuck his head into her treatment room. Ari’s anxiety level cranked up by several notches. “Good afternoon,” she said weakly.
“Afternoon, Ariana. Can I see you for a moment?”
“Of course.” For the second time in twenty-four hours she felt like a kid reporting to the principal’s office. Or, in this case, a little cell of a room the opposing team had allocated for management to use while they were in town.
“Have a seat,” Hugh said. “I just got a FedEx for you. It’s a panic button. Have a look.”
“Oh. Thank you.” What else could she say? She would have preferred to live out her life without knowing that panic buttons existed.
He handed it to her. It was a little silver-toned oval with a sliding cover. She pushed the cover with her thumb, and it moved aside to reveal a bright red button.
“It’s well designed, so that you can’t trip it by accident,” he said. “Press the button now—it’s not activated yet.”
“Okay.” Ari pushed the switch, and it slid into its alternate position with a click. “I see. And I could clip this to my handbag.”
“Exactly. Or your belt at home.”
“Well...” she cleared her throat. “I’ll carry it, if you think I should. But it seems like an unnecessary expense.”
Hugh grinned. “One of my many jobs is buying all kinds of insurance for the team. And I buy a ton of it, always hoping that it’s a complete waste of money. Welcome to my world.”
It was hard to argue with that logic. “So what happens if Idoflip the switch?”
“Several people will be alerted at once. Law enforcement at the precinct house. Also me, Rebecca—she volunteered...”
“Wow. Seems like a lot of trouble,” Ari said, embarrassed.
“Not as much trouble as if something happened to you. Take it. Wear it. I know it’s not something you wanted, but we can’t have anyone using your position in the Bruisers organization as some kind of nasty leverage. If you push that button there are a few other people who will be notified, including whichever Kattenberger security team is on duty. And”—he cleared his throat—“Patrick O’Doul. If that’s okay with you.”
