Page 71 of Enticing the Enforcer
“What can I do?” Jefferson asks quietly, head bent to mine. “What do you need, Angel?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper. It sounds unconvincing, even to me. I feel both men exchange a look over my head, the silence weighted.
“They came out of nowhere,” Coach mutters, knuckles white on the steering wheel. “No one was there when I got to the arena this morning.”
“Same,” Jefferson says, voice tight. “Someone must’ve followed us. Posted about it online.”
“It wasn’t me.” Coach’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror, pinning me with a firm look. “I haven’t even told Britt I met you yet.”
“It’s fine,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat, trying to steady the tremble in my voice. “It happens.”
“Not at my arena,” Coach grumbles. His jaw ticks, anger simmering under the words. “I called security. They’ll have them cleared out fast.” Then his tone softens, just slightly. “Where do you want me to drop you two?”
Jefferson tilts his head down, steel-gray eyes searching mine. “Want me to call Marv? Get you back to the hotel?”
I shake my head instantly. “No. I want to go back with you. To the Manor.”
His grip tightens on me, protective and possessive all at once. I lean into him as the truck turns toward the Manor, the safebubble of Jefferson’s world closing around me again, holding onto it for as long as I can.
22
Jefferson
I giveCoach a wave of thanks and get her inside. The house is blessedly quiet. I notice she’s still trembling, and my gut twists. I don’t know if it’s from the mob or fromme. From what I did back there.
Because yeah, I’ve shoved guys around before. Dropped gloves, thrown fists. It’s what hockey demands–what’s expected. But the way I went at that guy when he grabbed her? That wasn’t hockey. That was raw, ugly fury. And if she saw it–really saw it–then maybe she’s shaking because she realizes what I can do.
“Ingrid,” I start, searching for the words. I’m not sorry. I’m fucking not, but also… “Tell me what you need.”
“I’m fine. I told you that.”
I look down at her. She’s shivering, face pale. Her arms are wrapped around her body. My gaze drops to where her shirt was torn and another wave of anger rolls over me. “You’re not fine.Noneof this is fine.”
What if that asshole hurt her? What if he got any closer? What if I hadn’t been there? Jesus Christ.
I touch her cheek. “You’re freezing.”
“I can’t get warm.”
“Then let’s fix that.” I guide her upstairs, into the bathroom, and crank on the shower until steam curls through the air. There’s a tension between us. Something fragile and pulled tight. I can’t take it and I clear my throat. “Are you… are you scared of me? After what happened out there? I know hockey players have a reputation for being violent, but normally, off the ice, I’d never hurt anyone.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, wide and sure. “No. God no, Jefferson.” Her eyes shine. “I’m not scared of you. No one who wasn’t on the payroll has ever defended me like that.”
Relief floods me so fast it makes me dizzy. I cup her face, my thumb stroking her cheek, damp from the steam. “I thought maybe I crossed a line.”
“I’m not scared of you, but I hate that I brought you into this.” She frowns. “There’s probably going to be a huge stink about it, and that guy could even press charges…”
“Hey,” I stop her. “I’m not worried about it or scared of him.”
“It could affect your contract.”
“Angel,” I force her to look at me. “I’ll deal with it.We’lldeal with it. This is part of your life and something I’m willing to take on.”
She nods, tension easing slightly out of her shoulders. The room warms around us, steam filling the gaps. There’s a long beat, then she asks, “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” I search her face.
“When you called me your girl?”
