Bruiser (Seattle Sharks 7)

“Oh, God. Elliott. Did they get a picture?” Fear slid across her features, icy and stark.

“No.” I slid to her, taking her cold hand. “No, baby. They didn’t get a picture of Elliott. I’ll call them tomorrow and make sure they don’t publish any, either. Okay?”

“There can’t be pictures of her out there.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.” Something twisted in my gut, wrong and heavy. “Elliott’s father is still out there, isn’t he?” He wasn’t in jail. Wasn’t serving time for whatever had led to the scar on her collarbone. Or what I guess caused the other scars I’d found on her body.

Her eyes flew to mine, and I knew I was right.

“You’re up,” the driver called back.

“I need two minutes,” I barked.

He relayed the order somewhere.

“You can stay in the limo,” I told her. “They can take you around back. Or hell, we can both skip the red carpet. I don’t talk to the press, anyway. I actually get fined for skipping post-game interviews.”

“You don’t talk to the press?” she asked, tilting her head.

“No. Anything they need to know about me, they can see on the ice. Nothing else is their business. This ball is in your court, Shea. I would never force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

The fear drifted from her eyes, replaced by something softer. “You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do just about anything to make you happy,” I admitted, the words rougher than I intended.

Someone lightly knocked on the window.

I ignored them.

“Your choice.”

“I just didn’t realize there would be a red carpet,” she blurted, her words coming faster and faster. “I should have known, or guessed, but it’s not like I do this a lot.”

“Of course.”

“I…” She looked beyond me to the line of photographers. “Please don’t be mad, Porter. I just...It wouldn’t be safe for Elliott.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Okay. It’s absolutely fine. We’re skipping the carpet. Take us to the rear?” I called up to the driver.

His eyes met mine in the mirror, and he nodded once, relaying the information out of the driver’s door.

Within a few seconds, we were rolling.

Shea clutched her stomach, rocking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I gathered her to me, putting her on my lap. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Shea. Not one damn thing. Whatever you do to protect Elliott is fine by me. I just hope you know that I’ll do whatever I can for you—for her. I’d never let anyone get to either of you. Hell, I can put security on you both.”

“No! Absolutely not. She’d feel like she was in a fishbowl. I’d...I’d feel like that, too.”

The car kept going, circling the hotel where the event was being held.

“You know there will be photographers in there, too, right?” I asked gently.

She blanched.

“I can’t skip the event. Not since it’s been advertised that I’d be here, when I bought the seats. It’s not the cost, but it would be seen as a snub to the charity, and no one likes to snub sick kids.” I stroked her arm.

She bit her lip, oblivious to her makeup, and her eyes darted back and forth, making a choice as we pulled up to the back entrance.

“We’re here, sir,” the driver called, then exited the limo to walk toward my door.

“He can take you home, Shea,” I offered, hating the words as they left my mouth. “Or you can head to my place, and I’ll meet you after.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I can do it. I’m sure the majority of the pictures used are from the red carpet, right?”

“Yes,” I answered truthfully.

She nodded. “Then let’s do this.”

Ten minutes later, we were surrounded by Sharks and their wives and dates. As I looked around at Gage, Warren, Rory...hell, all of them, it struck me what a marrying group we were. Most Sharks dated short-term and married quickly.

Guess we knew when we had a good thing.

“Can you believe she brought him?” Lukas seethed, glaring toward where Faith danced with her boyfriend.

“He is her boyfriend,” I reminded him.

“They look good together,” Noble added, sipping on his drink.

“Fuck you,” Lukas snapped and threw back the rest of his champagne.

Noble just grinned. “Shea looks hot tonight, Porter.”

“Keep your eyes to yourself, Noble,” I answered without changing my tone. I brought my glass to my lips and took a sip. Ginger Ale always kept the questions at bay. Sure, it was fizzy but it had that light amber color that let everyone assume I was drinking.

I met Shea’s eyes across the floor, where she chatted with Ivy and Pepper. She halted in conversation, tilting her head in silent question. I answered with a smile and a shake of my head. She was so attuned to my emotions, like we had our own wavelength.

“Where’s your date? Or dates?” Noble asked Lukas, smirk firmly in place.

“I came alone,” Lukas grumbled, his eyes locked on Faith as she laughed at something the college boy said.

“Oh?” Noble prodded.

Lukas didn’t answer, but his eyes narrowed, and he grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing server. “Took some stupid advice, apparently.”

I scoffed. “I didn’t say you’d get instant results. Are you seriously that impatient?”

Now I was the recipient of his glare.

“Does Gentry know?” Noble asked, still nursing his first glass of champagne. I liked the guy. He wasn’t a draft pick like the rest. He’d gone to open tryouts his freshman year of college at the W, and then spent five years in the minors, working his ass off before getting called up.

His work ethic was unmatched on the team.

Lukas pinned him with a look that had Noble’s hands in the air. “Gotcha. Okay. Backing off now.”

“And your date?” I asked, hoping to break the tension before Lukas released his Faith-related rage on him. The guy had gone from watching her ass last year to being borderline obsessed. He had it bad. I just wasn’t sure if he even realized how bad.

“No time for women,” Noble said with a shake of his head.

“Men?” Lukas fired back, eyes still on Faith.

Noble laughed. “Nope. I just have to work twice as hard as you guys. Always have. Always will. I’m good with it.”

Shea motioned to me with her head, and I walked away from the guys without another word.

“Nice talking to you, too,” Noble called after me.

She stood waiting for me at the edge of the dance floor, her hands at her sides, a soft smile on her face that nearly stopped my damn heart. Depositing my glass with a server, I swept her into my arms and onto the floor as one of John Legend’s slow songs came on.

“Why yes, I’ll dance with you,” she laughed, the sound bright and so welcome after our moment in the limo.

Even in her heels, she barely came to my collarbone.

“I just wanted to get you in my arms for a minute,” I admitted, swaying to the beat.

“And he dances,” she mumbled, looking up at me with a bemused smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the perfect man.”

“Hardly,” I scoffed. “But I’ll take whatever compliments you want to give.”

“You are a little tall,” she said, squinting. “It’s hard to see you from all the way down here.”

I shifted my grip from the hourglass dip of her waist to her hips and lifted so her feet were off the floor and our eyes were level. “Better?”