Page 53 of Hard Hitter
“Sure,” he said automatically. He’d have to be.
But on his way down the tunnel toward the visitors’ locker room, he passed DiCoda, Carolina’s enforcer, on the way to his own team’s ice time. “Hey, man!” O’Doul greeted him. DiCoda was one of the good guys in the league—the kind of guy who’d beat the shit out of you and then buy you and your whole team drinks. People came to fighting all different ways, but whatever DiCoda’s reasons, the man did not seem to be brimming over with excess aggression.
“Hey!” DiCoda grabbed him into a backslapping hug. “Got a sec?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
DiCoda winced. “My jaw is acting up again.” He raised a hand to his face. “Might need surgery, actually. Can’t fight you tonight.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, thanks.” The other man made a grim face. DiCoda was a true enforcer—he was really only on the roster to fight. The guy had something like ten career goals in as many years. The awkward truth hung between them. If DiCoda couldn’t fight again, his career was finished.
“So...” O’Doul cleared his throat. “Are your guys gonna stay in line tonight? I don’t want to have to throw down with some kid who doesn’t know any better.”
DiCoda grinned. “I don’t think any of ’em have plans to take you on, so I’ll tell ’em not to piss you off.”
“Good man,” O’Doul said, squeezing the guy’s elbow through his pads.
“Later,” DiCoda said, giving him one more smile.
O’Doul trudged on toward the locker rooms, worrying about all the ways the earth kept shifting under his feet.
Staying healthy in a fight no longer looked to be today’s top problem. But there were other issues. And one had a name—Vince Giardi. The guy was only going to make more trouble. Forget his strained hip flexors—that guy was his most likely career-ender.
That fucking photograph had been meant as a warning to both him and Ari. The words on the back—YOU STUPID FUCK—made that very clear, even if neither Hugh Major nor Ari understood their significance.
O’Doul was willing to stipulate that Vince was right. He’d been a very stupid fuck indeed the night he’d bought pills from that guy. The message on the back of the photo was like a bill coming due. One that O’Doul couldn’t pay. If Vince thought he could get Ari back by threatening him—it was never going to happen. She was done with Vince whether they went on to become a couple or not. He’d do whatever it took to keep that rat away from her.
Though he got a chill just wondering what the hell Vince wanted. Hush money? Maybe. Though anyone with half a brain could tell you that paying a blackmailer was pointless.
In the visitors’ locker room, he pulled off his skates while trying to imagine the worst-case scenario. So far as O’Doul could tell, Vince was a man with nothing to lose. He’d already lost Ari. And it sounded as though the police had found evidence of the man’s involvement in drug dealing in that storage room. He was probably desperate. And a desperate man was the most dangerous kind. He might do anything.
If Vince told the cops that O’Doul had bought pills, he’d be questioned for sure.
Sitting there on the bench, he had another thought, one that made him feel guilty. The cops had already met him the other morning at Ari’s door. If he told the detective that Vince was only trying to smear him out of jealousy, he’d soundverybelievable.
Only an asshole uses his fame and his favorite girl as a cover for the dumbest mistake he’d ever made. But without a doubt, he’d lie if it came down to it.What? Who? Me? Never heard of the stuff.
So there was a happy thought.
He showered and hopped onto the bus back to the hotel with his teammates. They were greeted in the lobby at ninethirty by Jimbo, one of the roadies who helped lug gear around on their road trips. “Hey man. Where’s breakfast?”
The kid jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “In the conference room behind me. That’s why I’m standing here like an idiot, to make sure you guys find it.”
O’Doul grabbed Jimbo’s shoulders and turned him toward the breakfast room. “Come on, then. Let’s eat. Anyone misbehaving today? Do I have to knock any heads?”
“Nope. The charter company didn’t even lose anyone’s luggage. But the day is young.”
At the buffet, O’Doul filled his plate with scrambled eggs and sausage. He chose two grapefruit halves and poured himself a cup of coffee. When he sat down with Jimbo at the center table, he noticed Ari hovering by the buffet, picking up a cup of yogurt and a plastic spoon. She looked up to catch him watching her.
Busted. He gave her a smile and pointed at the empty seat next to his.
She gave her head a little shake and dropped her eyes to her portable breakfast. A moment later, she exited the room.
We are not together, Ari had said last night. The words didn’t leave a lot of room for argument. He tucked into his breakfast, wondering how he might change her mind.
Leo Trevi took the seat that Ari passed up, and Beringer, Beacon, and Castro filled in the rest of the table. “How’s tricks, captain?” Leo asked. “Didn’t see you at the bar last night.”
