Bruiser (Seattle Sharks 7)

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” he teased, kissing her cheek.

“Always yours,” she promised, kissing him full on the mouth.

Shea blushed and looked away from the couple, but not before her eyes dropped to the huge diamond on Ivy’s hand.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, dying to know what was turning the wheels in her head. I was still on edge but trying hard to relax. Thing 1—AKA Paulson—had told me he’d been about eighty-percent certain that he’d spotted Todd hovering in the parking lot after Elliott’s hockey game.

I was one-hundred percent ready to smash that asshole to dust.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head a little and picking at her cheesecake.

“What?” I prodded. Did she want a ring like that? A commitment? If so, I had zero problem going to the local jewel—

“It was just really fast,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“What? Connor and Ivy’s marriage?” I whispered in her ear, letting my lips brush the delicate skin of the shell. I needed to get her home. Naked. Needed to feel her skin under mine, to know she was within my walls and untouchable. Mine.

“Yeah. I mean, they’re perfect for each other, and they went through so much last year, but still. So fast. How can you possibly know enough about a person that quickly to know that they’re the one?”

I thought about the first time I saw her, all curves and determination. The first time I lifted her into my arms. The first time she threw attitude at me. The first time I kissed her, held her, made love to her.

“I guess you just know,” I told her, resting my arm on the back of her chair. “You don’t have to know everything about a person to feel it all just snap into place. To know that there is nothing else in this world that will ever compare.”

She pulled away, her eyes darting to the table. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you were engaged.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about—” movement behind Noble’s head caught my attention, and my stomach hit the floor. “Natalie.”

“You weren't?” Shea asked. “Hudson?”

I blinked, hoping the vision would go away.

It didn’t.

She stood there with a small group that had walked in through the glass doors of the Space Needle’s restaurant.

Her gaze locked on mine, her dark brown eyes glinting with a determination that told me this wasn’t going to go well.

“Hiya, Hud,” she said, her voice annoyingly high. Had she always sounded like she had a permanent post-nasal drip?

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my fingers gripping the back of Shea’s chair.

“Well, since you haven’t answered any of my texts, I figured this was my next best option.” She put her hands on her hips, her slinky red dress looking downright trashy compared to Shea’s classy black sheath.

Every head at our table turned to look, swiveling back and forth like we were a tennis match.

“I did respond,” I said. “A goodbye text. And then I blocked your number.” After that last text, I’d realized there was no reason to leave a road open that led nowhere.

She scoffed. “Three years together, and you just blocked me?”

Shea’s back stiffened like she’d finally put the pieces together.

I didn’t bother to introduce them, not because I didn’t want Shea to know she was Natalie, but because I didn’t want to give Natalie the opening to sink her claws into Shea. We already had Todd out there—I didn’t need another enemy gunning for Shea.

Another jolt of rage hit my veins. He’d been there, hoping to what? To snatch them? And now I had to deal with Natalie. What a fucking day.

“Two,” I corrected her, “and you were fucking someone else for a year of it.”’

“So she was,” a voice came from behind me.

Every Shark at the table stood, including me.

Atkins.

The cocky bastard smiled, first at me, then Gage. That made two of us in this room who had been fucked over by this guy. But seeing as Gage had Bailey, and I had Shea, we’d come out of it on top.

I mildly wondered if he was still married to Gage’s ex, or if screwing my fiancée had thrown a wrench in that.

“This is a private event,” Rory said, stepping forward.

“So we saw,” Atkins said as some of the Ontario players filled in behind him. “Must have some sway if you got the space to host you, seeing as it’s closed to the rest of the public for renovation.”

“I think you boys need to leave,” Coach said in a tone that wasn’t a suggestion.

“Come on, Atkins,” one of the Ontario players called out. A quick glance told me it was Pedersen—one of the forwards.

Atkins didn’t say anything, just smiled slowly at me. “Miss us?”

“No,” I answered.

He made a pouty face as Natalie rounded the table and stood just behind him. “Not any of us?” He looked back at her.

My muscles tensed. Did I miss the team? No. Did I miss Natalie? No. Hell, I hadn’t even missed her when we were on the road. I should have known she wasn’t the one.

I missed Shea with an ache that distracted me even on the ice when I was at an away game. I hated being separated from her for even the night.

“Nope. Everything about Seattle suits me better.”

“So I see.” He ran his eyes up and down Shea, who had turned in her seat, and I saw red. I took my hand off her chair, letting my arms hang loose. Ready.

“Come on, Atkins,” another player demanded.

“We’ll see you on the ice, boys,” Coach stated. “You’d best get out of here.”

The Ontario players started to filter out through the glass doors, but Atkins and a couple of others lingered.

“Hud, please?” Natalie begged. “Just five minutes?” She held up five fingers, and I saw it—the five-carat diamond ring I’d bought her.

Shea would have balked at something that big—lectured me about how a charity could have used the money more than her finger.

“No,” I answered. “And take that ring off. We are not engaged. Not anymore.”

She had the nerve to look like I’d slapped her.

“Sorry, darlin’. Guess he doesn’t want to see you,” Atkins said.

“For her?” she shrieked.

Ah, there was one of the temper tantrums I hadn’t missed. How much fucking time had I wasted placating her?

“Excuse me?” Shea snapped.

“Baby,” I pled, looking down at my very pissed-off redhead. “Don’t bother.”

“Yeah, don’t bother, baby,” Natalie spat, using my endearment as an insult. “It’s not like you know how to handle him. Look at you.”

Shea’s eyes narrowed.

“Get the fuck out,” I snapped at Natalie. “You don't get to talk to her. Or look at her, or even think about her. She’s so far above you that you couldn’t reach her with a fucking space shuttle. Turn around and walk the fuck out.”

I felt Lukas step closer, partially blocking Shea. Connor stepped to my other side.

Stubborn woman that Shea was, she stood up, pushing her way into the gap to stand at my side.

That’s who she was—the woman who would always choose to stand at my side. As long as assholes like Todd kept their distance. As long as girls like Natalie didn’t sink their manicured nails into her. As long as guys like Atkins—

Don’t go there, whatever was left of my rational brain argued.

I was on a razor’s edge. I knew it. So did the rest of my friends. Even Noble had walked around the table to stand next to Connor, and Gentry on Lukas’s side.

Natalie glared at Shea, who dished it right back without saying a word.

“You heard what our coach said,” Warren cautioned. “We’ll see you on the ice tomo

rrow, but you’re going to have to leave. Now.”

“Let’s go, Nat. It’s pretty clear that we’re not wanted,” Atkins told my ex.

“You’re really choosing her over me?” Natalie asked, her voice going soft and wounded—changing tactics.

“I’ll always choose Shea,” I told her. “Always. Every day. And even if she wasn’t a choice, I’d still make her one. I’d sure as hell never choose you.”

Natalie sucked in a breath, spun on her heel and marched out with two of the new Ontario players I didn’t recognize.

Atkins smiled, but not at me...at Shea.

Something resembling a growl ripped from my chest.

“Oh relax,” he said to me. “Have a drink. Let loose. It’ll hurt less when I decide to fuck her. Tasty little treat that she is.”

The earth shifted. Gravity altered.

A crash filled my ears.

The sound of screams joined the cacophony.

And my fist, it pumped up and down, smashing into soft, pliable flesh.

“Hudson!” her cry split the haze, cleared it enough for me to feel arms around my chest. Not just one pair. Another gripped my bicep.

Kept me from releasing another punch into Atkins’s face.

Holy shit, I’d taken him through a table.

He lay under me, the side of his face already swelling, split open and bleeding.

“He’s not worth it, Porter. Do you understand me?” It was Gage’s voice in my ear. “I know better than anyone. Trust me. This piece of shit isn’t worth it. And that redhead back there? She loves you. Don’t let him play you like this.”

Rage simmered in Atkins’s eyes, but he was smart enough not to move or speak.

I nodded, and Gage loosened his grip, followed by the other players who had stepped forward to do the same.

Pushing to my feet, I saw that Connor and Gentry had blocked a couple of the Ontario players from entering the fray. But I kept my primary attention on Atkins.

He stumbled to his feet, touching his cheek and glancing at the blood he brought back.

“Oh, this is rich. I hope you enjoyed your moment, Porter, because I’m going to have you arrested for assault.”

My throat clenched, hearing the same words from my father’s mouth.

“For what?” Gage asked, folding his arms across his chest and standing next to me. “Assault you say? How is that possible?”