Page 60 of Hard Hitter
“Jesus,” Ari said, jumping a half step back.
When he looked into her startled eyes his stomach fell. “Sorry. Didn’t know it was you.”Hell. He never wanted toscareher.
She laughed, but it sounded nervous. “Wow. Only one of us is allowed to be jumpy at a time, okay?”
“You’re jumpy?” He stood up. “Is something wrong?”
She crossed her arms protectively across herself. “I’m fine. I thought I saw a certain van in the neighborhood tonight on my way here. I’m probably just paranoid, but I was going to ask you to walk me home.”
“Of course I will.” He threw his suit jacket on. “Did the asshole get served with his restraining order yet?”
“Nope. They still can’t find him. I’m trying not to feel so paranoid, but the whole situation just creeps me out.”
“You’re not paranoid,” he said. “That guy isscum.” His head gave a fresh stab of pain, thanks to Mr. Vince deScumbag. That guy was like a cockroach. He had both O’Doul and Ari in his sights, and he wasn’t going away unless O’Doul stomped him like a bug. If he ever got the chance, he would take it. Gleefully.
Funny how he could look forward to the one fight that could get him in serious trouble, while he dreaded all the ones he was paid two million a year to take.
“Let’s go,” he said, with a hand on Ari’s shoulder.
There was nobody else around by now. They’d all moved on to the bar. His phone was full of teammates’ texts asking if he was all right, and whether he was coming to the bar. He’d just have to catch up with them in the morning.
When he and Ari got out of the stadium, it was raining. And here in downtown Brooklyn they were a mile from home, as opposed to the couple of blocks they walked home from the practice rink in Dumbo. But the taxi gods smiled. A lit roof light swung into view and Patrick darted for the curb and threw his arm in the air. And,fuck. His neck spasmed. One of the joys of getting a drubbing was slowly discovering all the secondary pains as the night wore on.
The taxi came to a halt in front of him. Gritting his teeth, he opened the door, waving Ari across the wet pavement and into the back seat.
After she slid inside, he carefully folded his body into the car and shut the door. Everything throbbed. It was time for more ibuprofen or a nice glass of Scotch. Maybe both. “Can you take us to the corner of Front and Hudson Ave, pal? Thanks.”
“What’s wrong with your neck?” Ari asked.
“Nothing.” Though the palm he had clamped on it made him a liar. He dropped his hand and sighed. “Did you see that mutual ass kicking we gave each other?”
“I didn’t watch the whole thing.”
“No?”
She looked away, out the rainy window. “Don’t like to see anyone hit you.”
“Aw, Ariana! Careful, sweetheart. I might start thinking you like me.” He gave her knee a squeeze.
“I do like you. Never said I didn’t.” She put her hand on top of his.
“But you don’t want to date me. Guess I didn’t get any prettier tonight.”
She turned to look at him, and her expression gentled. “It’s not you. I’m notdating. Period.”
He flipped his hand over to catch her softer one. He rubbed his thumb across her small palm and smiled. “Are you going to come upstairs with me and look after my neck?”
“Do you need me to?”
“No.” He picked up her hand and kissed the palm. “But I want you to.”
“Aren’t you exhausted?”
“Yeah.” He kissed her wrist. “Never too tired for your company, though.”
She turned her head quickly, hiding her face from him. “Okay.”
“Pal.” He leaned forward to speak into the hole in the driver’s plexi partition. “Can you stop at Bridge Street instead?”
