Page 73 of No Promises, No Lies

“Right.”Does she want him?It has to be arranged. The way they keep her locked up… But she could still want it. Carroza’s a terrible human, but busy with the Mafia. He’d hardly ever be home; for some Mafia wives, that’s goals.

I start to touch her arm and she flinches violently away from me, a wild look in her eyes.

I straighten to my full height, peering down at her. She’s not looking at me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Leave me alone, Aidan. I’m not your business, and I’m not your problem, okay?” Her eyes flare with blue fire before she pushes past me, knocking into my shoulder in her hurry.

I let her go. I spot Koen lingering by the exit, watching, waiting on me. I join him, and once we’re outside, I tilt my head, checking who else might be in listening distance beforespeaking. “Carroza has gotten a littletoo comfortablein our city. It’s time the Irish give him the welcome party he deserves.”

Koen nods in agreement. A rare smile graces his sharp features. “It has been a little too quiet around here. Time to do what we do best and fuck some shit up.”

44

THE SIN BIN

RORY

National qualifiers are in two days. I need every second of ice time I can get. We’re set to fly out first thing tomorrow morning.

It’s late, and Karina’s long gone. I just finished another run-through of my routine, failing once again to land the triple-triple combination that’s thankfully toward the end of my program. And now I’m wiped after running it too many times to count. I don’t bother getting up this time. Half the lights are off in the arena, leaving half the ice in shadow.

I lay back, letting the cool ice calm my heated body, closing my eyes, trying to get my head right. The pressure of the competition, and my family’sexpectations,are getting to me.

“You dead, love?”

The deep tenor of a male voice startles me and I scramble up from where I’m lying, vulnerable, on the ice. No one else should be here… I rentedprivateice time.

I peer up and some of the tension ebbs away when I realize who stands over me.

“Go away, Aidan,” I groan at the sight of the Irish enforcer standing over me, dark hair falling into his face as he studiesme at his feet. He’s dressed for a practice in his jersey and pads, leaning on his stick, cocky grin and all.

Determined to ignore him, I lay back on the ice and shut my eyes, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Did you fall?”

Now I know I’m imagining the trace of concern in his tone.My eyes fly open. Frustrated at the interruption of my mini meditation session, I push my body up off the ice. Getting my skates under me, I huff “I was taking abreak—” I glare up at him before sighing irritably, “which isclearlyover now…”

Aidan helps me to my feet, hooking a hockey glove under my arm. I wince, and quickly pull away, when he brushes against a sore spot. The dark bruises Matteo’s fingers imprinted there last weekend are well hidden by my long sleeve top.

Aidan furrows his brow, reading pain on my face.

“Just sore… training,” I mutter lamely, working my rotator cuff to better sell the lie, eyeing him warily.The Breakers practiced this morning…I remember the busy shift at the Chill Zone for their packed open practice. “Why are you here?” I fold my arms across my chest and look him over, doing my best to ignore how attractive all his hockey gear makes him look. “Or do you not have anything better to do than follow me around?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, love,” he hums, “you’re the one onmyice.” He drops a puck at his feet, deftly stick handling it back and forth, his hands moving impossibly fast to keep it well under control. “I suggest you get off of it before you get hurt.” He shoots me a look, suggesting he might enjoy that, before he takes off.

Leaning into the ice, he takes long, powerful strides around the rink. Switching from forward to backward with a smooth motion, effortlessly crossing over with footwork that could give any figure skater a run for their money.

I catch myself gawking and shake my head to clear it. The exhaustion is clearly getting the better of me.Don’t even go there, Rory.

“Actually, you’re onmyice,” I shout after him as he passes close to me. A few pieces of hair have come loose out of my ponytail and they fly back as he whips by a little too close. “I have the ice until nine-thirty.”

Aidan laughs, carrying on with his warm-up, ignoring my protests. “It’s past ten, Angel.”

“What?” I left my phone in the locker room instead of keeping it with me and the Zamboni driver switched off the scoreboard clock when he left for the night hours ago.

“By the way, your guards are top tier.” Aidan almost looks angry as he talks, “enjoying the latest pornos out in the parking lot.”

I curl my nose in disgust. Niko’s been busy this week, preparing for some big delivery the Bratva has coming in. And so Sasha’s been appointed to accompany me to and from the rink. He waits outside while I practice. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about what he does. I prefer the freedom. So long as he doesn’t touch me. Some of my father’s other guys… I wouldn’t put it past them.

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