Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
I looked up, met Dane’s ice-cold eyes, and realized they were the same as Rain’s. Except there was a void in Dane’s while Rain’s were warm. Kind. There was so much humanity in hers, along with pain. I realized that with a start too.
“Is that what they’re saying about me?”
“You boys ready?” The ref held the puck between us, waiting.
Dane ignored him. “Isn’t that what you did? Running back home to your family? I don’t believe it for a second. What are you hiding from, you fucking coward?”
I didn’t understand any of what he was saying and shook my head. “As if you can talk about family. At least mine’s proud of me.”
He straightened abruptly. “What the fuck does that mean?”
I straightened too, and the crowd went nuts again, thinking their star had decided to take on enemy number one, forget using the enforcers.
“You know exactly what that means.”
He skated forward, his chest bumping mine. “No,” he spat. “I don’t. Enlighten me.”
“That’s a big word for you, Connors. You sure you used it correctly?” I taunted right back. Fuck him, I wanted to fight. I didn’t usually go out of my way to start them, but if something needed to go down, I was ready and willing.
“Okay, boys.” The ref got between us. “We already did that. We’re not doing it again. Sully. Ray. One of you is up.”
Connors continued to glare at me. I smirked as we moved to our new starting places and our replacements took the face-off.
A second later, the puck dropped. Boston won it.
I pushed off after it, because that was going to be the only thing Boston won for the rest of the game, if I had anything to do with it. Tonight, the thirst for good, old-fashioned violence was in my blood, and I looked forward to unleashing it on the ice.
God, I loved this sport.
37
RAIN
Someone was pounding on my door. Again.
I had fallen asleep on my couch, and it took me a moment to decipher what was going on.
Pound! Pound!
“Let me in, Rain.” It was Tyler. “Now!”
What was up with this asshole? Nothing for too long and then back to pounding on my door?
Something was on me, leaning against me, and I shoved it off because I didn’t like being touched like that. Oh, shit. It was a bottle. It was filled with liquid.
Oh, shit. It was rum.
I’d forgotten.
I must’ve fallen asleep with the bottle in my hand.
“Rain!”
My phone started ringing.
I snatched it up, trying to save the rum and the bottle. My couch was going to be drunk.
I put my phone to my ear. “Hello?”
But the phone was still ringing.
It was the hotel landline. Well, that wasn’t good.
I tossed my cell on the table and grabbed the cordless phone as I went over to the door. I opened it and answered the phone at the same time. “Hello?”
“Ms. Connors, this is the front desk—”
Tyler had lifted his hand to continue pounding. He dropped it now, his face furious as he shoved his way into the room.
I focused on what the front desk was saying, “—a disturbance.” They stopped talking.
I stared at Tyler, my brain working hard to process it all. “Oh,” I said. “I’m okay. That was an asshole at my door, but I opened it.”
There was quiet for a beat on the other end. “Are you in need of security, Ms. Connors?”
I stared at Tyler, whose gaze had fallen to my rum. He took it from my hand and tipped it back, taking a good swallow. “No. He’s inside now.”
“I’m aware, Ms. Connors. I’m asking if you would like us to send security to your room.”
“Why?”
“For your safety. Do you feel safe, Ms. Connors?”
“Not emotionally.”
Tyler wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, glaring at me as he took another drink. “What the fuck are they saying?”
“They’re asking if I feel safe.”
He rolled his eyes upward and turned away from me, going into the bedroom with my rum.
“Ms. Connors?”
“I’m fine. I don’t need security, but if you know a good couch cleaner on staff?” I looked over at the piece of furniture. Too much of that bottle had leaked out. I’d gotten home, started drinking, and probably passed out after two swigs. Lightweight.
“What was that?” the front desk asked sharply.
“Nothing. Everything’s fine.” I ended the call and tossed the phone in the direction of its base. There was a thud and a crash, but I was beyond caring at this point.
When I went to the bedroom, Tyler was sitting on the edge of my bed, still drinking and scowling at me.
“You’re one of them.”
I readied myself, or tried. “I’m too drunk for this.”
“Pfft. What? You had two shots of this? You’re not drunk.”
“I feel drunk.”
“You look tired.”
“That too.”
We fell silent. I watched him. He watched me. We were at our first standstill until the storm moved over his face. “You’re a fucking Connors.”