Page 8 of Finders Keepers
With every ounce of strength and willpower he possessed, he lurched to his feet.
He tugged at door handle after door handle as he wove his way through the vehicles, gasping in agony with each pull.
Car after car. Locked. It was hopeless. No one left their cars unlocked anymore.
He kept trying. Had to... He had to get into one of these cars.Please, God. Help me.
Car after car. No luck. Tears burned his eyes, stung the abrasions on his cheeks. Between the fear lodged in his throat and the beating he’d taken, he could barely breathe.
“Where are you, you little fucker? I’m gonna find you.”
Car after car. Wesley’s heart banged against his ribs. He yanked on a handle and almost fell over when the door of the extra-large SUV swung open. Relief and pain in equal measure had him choking on a sharp inhale.Thank you, God.
Clambering into the back, his teeth clamped to his bottom lip against the anguish that careened around his head, and tugged the door shut. He hoped there was enough crowd noise to camouflage the sound of the vehicle’s door shutting.
After locking the vehicle, he crawled, wheezing and moaning, onto the floorboard of the backseat and pulled whatever lay on the backseat over himself and closed his eyes.
He panted shallowly, working to catch his breath. He muttered through the swirling pain, willing it to go away. What the hell had just happened?
Chapter Three
Nate hung up the room phone and blinked at the textured ceiling in the dimly lit room. For the first time in days, his mind was quiet. Every muscle in his body relaxed. He hoped those sensations lasted longer than a few days.
The wall clock read a few minutes after two. Nate rolled off the bed and onto his feet. Wesley had cleaned him so gently but so thoroughly that Nate didn’t need a shower before getting dressed. He did, however, need to piss. He didn’t bother with the overhead light in the bathroom as the two small outlet lights reflected enough illumination off the giant mirror for him to relieve himself and get dressed.
After he’d dressed, he patted pockets.
Phone? Keys? Wallet? Check. Time to head out.
He should be able to fit in another visit, maybe two before the season ramped up. Between training camp and preseason, the start of a season was always hectic. Not to mention all the team-bonding shit. Being new to the team, as well as single, he’d be expected to attend. Not that he really minded. He looked forward to getting to know some of the guys better, needed to learn the nuances of his new teammates, but the round of functions could be exhausting. Could he exhibit goalie weirdness to beg off a few of them?
The night, warm and close after a day in the mid-nineties, reminded him of home. Being in Omaha meant he was closer to Columbus than he’d ever been since his first few years in the League. Maybe he could get home more often, see Claire. Flights were short enough. Or she could come to him. That would require another spare room, which would also require him to look for a new place. Ugh. He pushed that thought aside. He’d worry about it after his endorphins from tonight wore off.
Nate reached for the door handle and the car unlocked; he slid into the plush leather seat and sighed. God, he loved this car. The purchase had been his one extravagance after he’d signed his first major contract as an unrestricted free agent a couple of years ago. It purred to life; he kept it well maintained. With a pro athlete’s salary, there was no reason not to. Then he sighed again...just another thing he’d have to add to the list of shit to do in this new place. Find a trustworthy mechanic. But that was also a task for another day. Maybe he needed to hire a personal assistant. He had no idea how to go about doing that. Also a consideration for another day.
Right now, he was going to enjoy one of the other luxuries his job afforded him—driving this car. The streets in this part of town were empty at half two in the morning, even in downtown. Loving the smooth ride, Nate accelerated a little more quickly than necessary over the triple set of train tracks just to enjoy the lack of bounce in the shocks.
A groan wafted from behind him.
Nate’s heart vaulted into his throat. He pulled into a vacant parking lot under a light pole. He jammed the vehicle into park and jumped out. Whoever was in his car didn’t sound in any condition to hurt him. Quite the opposite in fact. Also, he was a six-foot-four, two-hundred-fifteen-pound hockey player. He could handle himself. Nevertheless, he retrieved his stick from the cargo area before opening the rear driver’s side door.
Between the harsh glare of the buzzing fluorescent light above his vehicle and the dim illumination from the overhead light inside the car, Nate saw the bulk of a body on the floorboard behind the front passenger seat. With the knob of his stick, he hooked the blanket and pulled.
Nate gasped. “Shit.” The guy was beat to hell. Dried blood smeared across one side of his face. The rest was distorted, swollen, and livid red, as though he was the sole target of a linebrawl. Nate was no stranger to bruising, although he didn’t get his from being beaten up. He poked the guy’s knee. “Hey, man. Are you still with me?”
The guy moaned.
Okay, that was something at least.
Nate nudged him again. “Dude. Can you hear me? What happened?”
“‘Tacked.” The guy’s voice was rough, gravelly.
Well, fuck.Nate had no desire to get involved in anyone else’s drama. He’d had enough drama of his own this summer. Throughout his life in general. He didn’t need, nor want, anymore. “Well, you’re safe now. I’m gonna call the police, okay?”
“No,” the guy squawked and then moaned again. “Please, don’t,” he lisped and then gasped.
“Give me one good reason why not.” Nate just needed to pass this guy on to someone who was more qualified to handle these kinds of things. Someone who waspaidto handle these kinds of things.
