Chapter 6
Axel
He ended the fucking call. I couldn’t decide whether to be pissed or impressed.
Either way, I imagined his face red and flustered, eyes gleaming with anger.
I imagined the veins under his tattoos would bulge as the hair fell from his man bun.
Jesus Christ. That wasn’t supposed to be hot. And the whispering.
“Okay, that obviously didn’t go well, but you’re also smiling,” Jonas mused. “What did he say?”
“Basically whispered for me to fuck off.” Jonas’s laughter filled his living room, causing my anger to flare. We were watching baseball at his home while his wife, Leanne, had taken the kids to a pool party at the neighbor’s house. “Shut it.” I stood, suddenly needing some space.
“Wait,” he chuckled, reaching for my arm. “He was whispering? I’m not used to seeing the Axel Hughes get shut down so quickly.”
Why was I letting this irritate me? “I wasn’t hitting on him. I was trying to have a conversation. Like an adult.” But I was thinking about hitting on him.
His expression changed to one of sympathy, but I didn’t like that either. “Buddy, did you hear yourself? Let me give you some friendly advice. New Yorkers don’t take kindly to being told what to do, much less the way you handled it. You’re a bossy fucker.”
Exasperated, I closed my eyes as my irritation diminished. Rubbing my temples, I felt a headache coming on. “I can come on… a bit strong.”
“Ya think? You’re not on the ice. Chirping at him ain’t gonna work.
Nor will slamming him to the boards. But,” he paused, “some people like that trait in a man. Obviously not him, though.” He snickered and took a swig of his beer.
He shifted his big body on the sofa. “Maybe it’s best to leave it alone.
He’s a grown man, and you can’t change what happened. ”
I grunted. “No, but I can buy the fucking bar and turn it into a bookstore.”
He erupted in laughter. “That’s a little extreme even for a mogul like you. Why do you care what happens to him so much?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? I could only come up with one answer I was willing to share. “He’s a good man, takes care of people who can’t help themselves.” I couldn’t let it go, nor could I stop thinking about him. I had tried. For three days.
Jonas smirked. “So, it’s personal. Like kissy-kissy personal.”
My face contorted. “How old are you?”
“Old enough to be married with two kids. Just admit you like him for more than just a friend.”
I grunted. “I’m not admitting anything.” I twirled the bottle between my fingers. “But I should apologize.”
He studied me a moment longer before clamping his hand down on my shoulder. “Probably. Might want to sharpen up your charm and give him some time to cool off. Call him back tomorrow. You’ll know when it’s the right time.”
I knew it was sound advice I should probably heed. But as we sat a while longer, neither of us commented on the situation as we watched the baseball game. My phone buzzed with a message I was eager to accept.
“What’s going on?” Jonas asked.
Grinning, I stood and looked down at him. “I got my sign in the form of his address.”
He groaned as he stood. “You know stalking is a crime, right?”
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Stop worrying. I’m not stalking. I’m apologizing.”
Half an hour later, we pulled up to an old brick building.
It was almost dark as the streetlights came on.
Decker finally found a spot to park a block away, and as we walked back up the street, I surveyed the surrounding houses.
They were all in need of some serious work. Is this all he could afford?
Decker elbowed me. “What’s the plan?”
“We go in.”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and grabbed my arm. “Go in? I thought we were only locating the place. You’re supposed to be waiting for the right time to call him. Not show up out of the blue.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re an NHL goalie, for god’s sake. Have you gone soft? Maybe we’ve protected you too much.”
“You’re playing with fire, Hughes. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”
I squinted at his comment. “What the fuck are you talking about, Kansas? Does Coach know you’ve taken too many pucks to the head?”
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he looked down at me with concern. He was a six-foot-seven wall of muscle, yet he was hesitant to go in. “You can wait out here, Decker.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, no. Just go do what you have to do so we can leave. If we’re lucky, we’ll get out before he calls the cops on you.”
Shaking my head, I pulled out my phone to check the apartment number. When we entered the building, I looked around. “No lift?”
“Not here,” he said, heading for the stairs. “Let’s go, Princess. It’s leg day.”
Climbing four flights of stairs in the muggy heat made me miss London. Knocking on the door, we waited for him to answer. But when it opened, it wasn’t Luca. It was another man who looked back and forth between us. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m looking for Luca.”
His brow furrowed, the smile changing into a scowl. “What do you want with him?”
Glancing over his shoulder, I tried to see inside the apartment. “It’s personal.”
He mirrored my stance and planted his feet, blocking the doorway. “He’s not here.”
Trying not to look so ominous, I remembered what Becker said about New Yorkers. “Okay. When do you expect him?”
He sized us up before clenching his jaw. “Does he owe you money? If you goons work for a loan shark, or the Irish mob, you can fuck off before I call the cops.”
Scowling, I looked down at my designer clothes. I could see where he might think that, and he obviously didn’t recognize us. Tattoos and a few bruises from our workout yesterday presented a certain way, but not the mob. It was comical. “I can be an enforcer, but…”
Stepping back, he slammed the door and engaged multiple locks. “Get the fuck out of here. I’m calling the cops.”
“But we’re not…that’s not what…” I trailed off.
“I don’t give a shit who you are,” he yelled through the door. “I’m calling now.”
Decker shoved me in the shoulder as we turned to leave. “I knew you were going to get us in trouble. Why would you say that?”
Decker all but ran, thundering down the stairs like an elephant stampede. When we made it to the sidewalk, we walked toward the car. “Why is it so fucking difficult to help someone?”
“You should have told Luca why you wanted to see him instead of just showing up. What’s your plan now?”
Opening the door, I got in and slammed the door. “I don’t know. I’ll come up with something.”
And I did. The very next day.