Bottles & Blades (Eagles Hockey: Oak Ridge Vineyards #1)

Chapter 46

Forty-Six

Jean-Michel

The elevator opens, and my intention of meeting Pascal’s man down here while we deliberately search every hall and room disappears in a heartbeat.

Because there are people fucking everywhere .

Staff huddled in the hallway looking unnerved.

Players from both teams mostly dressed, some without their shoulder pads, jerseys, or helmets. Others fully dressed, minus their skates.

But all looked freaked the fuck out.

All except for the men and women in navy jackets emblazoned with large yellow letters spelling out FBI on their backs. They’re serious, expressions wiped clean, as though they’re dealing with some heavy shit.

Fuck.

Now the terror has gripped me .

This is like that night I found Chrissy gone all those years ago, when I received the ransom note, when I first met Pascal and he bypassed the bullshit the police were pulling about her being a teenager and not yet missing for twenty-four hours.

They refused to look for her.

But Pascal had found her.

Had brought her home safe.

And while I waited, the expressions on the faces of those around me…

They’d looked just like this.

Panic slicing my insides to ribbons, I spin, gaze searching, mind spinning.

Cam Jackson, one of my players, comes close, voice quiet even as he towers over me in his skates. “You need to come with me,” he mutters.

A look up at his face is all it takes for me to nod and follow him when he turns and walks down the hall.

Away from the flurry of activity.

I clench my teeth together, shove down the instincts telling me that I need to go back the other way, to demand to know what’s happening.

Turns out that the answers I’m seeking aren’t out there.

They’re in here.

Because when Cam pushes a door wide, holding it for me to walk through, I see Athena Phillips, the FBI agent that Marie has been working with and Cam’s girlfriend, standing inside the office.

“What the fuck is going on?” I snap, stalking over to her.

I sense Cam moving, coming close, but not shifting between us.

Probably because I wouldn’t hurt her and he knows that.

Probably also because Attie is fully capable of handling her own shit.

“I need you to brace,” she says. “To take a breath and calm yourself.”

I shake my head. “Where the fuck is Tiff?”

A soft hand on my arm has the blood rushing up, pounding behind my ears. I can barely hear, barely think, barely process her next words.

“She’s okay.”

Swear to fuck, my knees wobble and it takes everything in me to stay upright.

“But here’s where I need you to be calm.”

I nod tersely.

“We had eyes down here so we saw them grab her from the hall. They drugged her and dragged her into an office.”

I curse, rage burning through me.

They grabbed her?

Drugged her?

And I wasn’t fucking here. Again. Fuck.

“Once that happened, we deployed the team and hauled ass inside?—”

I close my eyes.

“We got there in time,” Attie continues softly. “She’s not hurt.”

“If that’s true,” I grit out, “then where the fuck is she?”

“Here, Jean-Mi.”

Every cell in my body freezes. Then I spin, eyes scouring over Tiff, relief spreading through me when I see she’s whole and safe.

“Tell me everything,” I say, not trusting myself to move close to her.

Not when I want to drag her against, yank her out of here, stashing her in my house for all eternity. Where she’ll be safe and looked after and never at risk again.

But she needs me calm and together and focused, not going off half-cocked.

Her face gentles and, of course, she notices how close to the edge I am, of course, she gives me that play, of course, she lets me keep the distance as I strain for control.

Because she’s Tiff.

Smart and sweet and kind and funny and beautiful and?—

Mine .

So, I stand perfectly still as she tells me about hurrying through the quiet hallway, the hands grabbing her, waking with tape over her mouth and tied to a chair.

Only then does she pause, suck in a breath.

That’s when Cam’s hand settles on my shoulder.

I know he’s trying to ground me, to give me support.

But I still want to tear his head off.

Instead, I force myself to remain frozen in place, to keep listening.

As she tells us about the gun and paperwork they wanted me to sign—which I would have made, in an instant, if it meant keeping her safe. But when her voice gentles as she mentions Angela, I snap to even more rigid attention.

“I don’t think it’s exactly what we thought,” Tiff says carefully. “I don’t think she’s the mastermind behind everything. In fact, she looked scared and she had bruises and cuts all over her.” Teeth in her bottom lip. “And when the man mentioned her father, she went pale, like she was terrified of what he would say.”

Attie and I glance at each other.

But I have no insights.

As far as I knew, all of Angela’s family was dead even before we married.

Tiff keeps talking. “She tried to stop the man from hurting me and he stabbed her.”

“Fuck,” I whisper turning to Attie again, my brows lifting in question.

“We found blood on the floor,” she says, “but Angela slipped away during the chaos.”

More questions when it comes to my ex-wife.

Christ, why is she always bringing more questions into our lives?

Tiff nibbles at her bottom lip, clearly uncertain and unsettled, and I can’t take being this far from her any longer. I move to her, drag her against me. “We’ll find her,” I promise. “And find a way to make this all make sense.”

“I know,” she whispers, her hand settling against my chest, her body melting against mine. “I just…I think we only have a few pieces of the puzzle of Angela and what she really wants.”

Something else that makes me want to punch my fist through the wall.

I table that, settle my hand on her back, gently stroke up and down, and breathe in the scent of her.

She’s okay.

Thank fuck, she’s okay.

Quiet falls.

But eventually, Attie breaks that silence. “We’ll give you guys tonight.” She starts for the hall, Cam trailing her. “But I’ll be by your house tomorrow to follow up on your statements.”

“We’ll be at the winery,” Tiff tells her.

I tighten my arms, start to protest. Our plans for the next day are far from important. But Attie nods before I get that out and says, “We’ll catch up with you there, then.”

She and Cam are gone in the next instant, closing the door behind them.

I glance down at my woman, guilt slicing anew.

“Baby,” I rasp.

“I’m okay, Jean-Mi.” She touches my jaw. “Just breathe. I’m here. I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”

“You were scared,” I press.

A shaky breath, deep brown eyes holding mine, not sugarcoating it, showing me again how fucking strong she is when she admits, “Yeah, honey, I was.”

Christ .

Pain cuts through me.

“You could have been hurt.” My voice sounds like I’ve swallowed shards of glass.

“Yes,” she whispers. “I could have.”

My eyes slide closed. “I’m so sorry?—”

She shifts closer. “Jean-Mi. Honey . Look at me.”

I force my gaze to hers.

“I knew you were coming. I knew I would be okay. I knew I just had to hold on for a few more minutes because you will do anything to protect me. Which is why,” she says gently, her hand settling on my chest, “I know I’ll sleep easy tonight. Because you’ll be beside me. Because you’ll keep me safe. Because you’ll keep the nightmares away. Because I’m not alone. ”

My heart thuds. “Baby, I didn’t?—”

Shield her.

Save her.

She seems to hear the unspoken thoughts. “Attie’s team was here because of you.” Her hand presses more firmly against my chest. “Because you’ve been working with them, helping them. But even if they hadn’t come, hadn’t swooped in, you would have.”

I swallow hard.

She touches my jaw. “I’m okay, honey.”

“I—” My voice breaks.

“I’m okay , honey.”

Fuck. She’s killing me.

I haul her against me, trapping that hand between us, and I focus on what I can control, rather than the regret slicing through me, the guilt. “You’re having a security guard,” I growl. “Anytime you’re not with me you’re going to have someone watching your back.”

She nods. “Okay, honey.”

“And you’re moving in with me. We’re done with this two places shit. Done with that apartment. I don’t give a fuck that the lock is secure and the door is new and you have the Ring camera now. My place is safer, and you’re moving in. Starting tonight.”

“Okay, honey.”

“I don’t want any arguments,” I go on. “Angela might have disappeared again, might not be exactly the villain we thought she was. But she was here, is part of this shit, and I’m not taking any chances with you.” I fix her in place with a glare. “You’ll be in a house that has security, has people watching the feeds, and has fucking panic buttons so that?—”

“ Jean-Mi. ”

Her body presses even closer to mine, and her hand lifts to touch my jaw again.

There are bright red marks on her wrist and they send my rage spiking.

I want to punch holes in the wall.

I want to kill that motherfucker.

I want to kill all of them.

But I hold it together.

Because she’s still talking.

“Whatever you need to do to keep me safe, to feel that you’ve done enough to protect me, we’ll do.”

Fuck. Fuck.

Regret ripples through me, cutting through that anger, and I drop my forehead to hers. “Buttercup.” I inhale, exhale. Strain for control, for logic. “I’m sorry, baby,” I mutter. “I’m freaked and overreacting. I won’t do anything to stifle you?—”

“I know.” Her fingers sifts through the stubble on my jaw. “I love you. I trust you. That was terrifying,” she whispers. “And I—” Her throat works, eyes closing for a long moment. “And I don’t want it to happen again?—”

“It won’t,” I grind out.

Her eyes open, and her mouth hitches up. “I know it won’t,” she says softly. “Because you’re going to make sure it doesn’t.”

My guilt isn’t gone.

But it’s dimmed, overshadowed by determination.

I won’t let it happen again.

I will keep her safe.

Always .

Her hand slides down my side, lacing our fingers together. “Honey, I can’t say I wasn’t scared, can’t say that it wasn’t terrifying.” A squeeze that keeps me here in the present with her. “But I haven’t lived this long only to retreat just because bad stuff happened. You showed me what life can be like, showed me how big and bright it can be, and I’m not going to hide from it.” She lifts on tiptoe, presses her lips to my jaw. “I’m going to go out and own it, knowing that you’re by my side, that you love me, and that the possibility of everything we can build together is way more beautiful than anything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“Buttercup.” Fuck, my eyes are damp and I know I need to say something, anything, but the words won’t come.

Luckily, she’s still talking.

It’s just not what I expect her to say.

Because she drops back down onto her heels and asks, “Now, can we finally go watch the hockey game?”

I blink.

Then again.

Her eyes dance and her mouth turns up, and she keeps talking.

Explaining.

“I bet Stefan ten bucks that the Eagles were going to take it.”

Smart.

Sweet.

Kind.

Funny.

Beautiful.

Mine.

And the woman who fucking owns me right back.

I draw her tight and exhale deeply, letting go of the fear, cementing my determination to give this woman everything. Then I release her, lace our fingers together again, and we step back out into the hall. It only takes a moment to lock eyes with Cam, knowing he’ll pass on the message that it’s time to get the game going.

We hit the elevator, and when the doors close, I brush my lips over Tiff’s forehead and start fulfilling my promise of that bright and beautiful life.

Today started great. It had a shit middle. But I’m going to make sure it ends exactly as we like.

Together.

With love.

And…

With laughter.

I tug a strand of her hair. “You should have bet Stefan a thousand, baby.”

But, just like every other time, what she gives me back is better.

Her laughter settles deep in my heart.

The love in her eyes heals the rift in my soul.

And when she smiles, I know the nightmares will stay away. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

I know I’ll remember it forever.