Ryker (Cold Fury Hockey 4)

The knife drops from his grasp as he sags to the floor. I let him go and watch as his hands scrabble at his throat, as if that's going to help give him oxygen. He goes to his knees, one hand on the floor, the other at his throat while he tries to suck air in. He still has good color in his face, which means he must be getting a little oxygen, which just won't do at all.

Not at all.

I draw my leg back and kick his ribs, feeling the satisfying crunch. If I'm lucky, a rib will pierce the lung and he'll suffocate in no time at all. He grunts, flips over onto his back, and his eyes roll into the back of his head. His chest moves shallowly, which is too much movement in my opinion and I pull my leg back for another kick.

A soft hand on my arm and Gray says, "Don't."

I drop my foot to the floor and turn to look at her. She smiles at me in gratitude and then walks into my arms. My fury immediately dies and I pull her in close to me, one arm around her waist, the other wrapping securely around her upper back. She puts her cheek on my chest and murmurs, "I knew you'd save me."

My legs almost buckle as I realize just how close I came to maybe not making it in time. Just how close I may have come to losing her.

"I saw blood on the porch," I say, and she pulls back from me, pressing her fingers gingerly to the back of her head. She winces, and when her hand clears free, I see red staining it.

Spinning her around, I gently pull her hair away. "You got a pretty nasty gash. It's going to need stitches."

The wail of sirens in the distance has me on alert again and I quickly turn back to Claude. His chest is moving and his eyes are closed. I don't know if he's dying or just unconscious and I don't care. The police can take care of him while I take care of Gray.

I turn back to her. "I think we should call your father. This is going to hit the media pretty quickly."

She nods with a grimace. "I know. He'll figure out a way to contain it."

--

"All right," the police officer says. "I think that's all. If I need anything more, I'll be in contact, Mr. Evans."

"Okay, thanks," I say before turning around to look for Gray. Her front yard has turned into a three-ring circus. The sun has set but everything is aglow with flashing lights from four police cars and an ambulance.

Another ambulance has already left, carting Claude to the hospital. The police officer that took my statement told me that it didn't look like the damage was too bad--pity--and that they had to take him as a precaution to have him checked out.

Brian Brannon stands in the middle of the yard, talking to two police officers. A few neighbors are loitering.

And there's Gray...sitting on her front porch step with a large white bandage around her head and her arm in a sling. As I walk toward her, I notice an EMT closing the back doors of the other ambulance and then it's pulling away.

"Why aren't you in that ambulance, Miss Brannon?" I say with a smile.

"Dad will take me to the hospital. The ambulance just seems...a little dramatic, don't you think?"

I shake my head, smiling as I walk up the two steps and sit down beside her. "Yeah. You've had a little too much drama today."

Reaching over, I take her hand. I wait to see if she'll pull away, as this is our first true display of public affection, and her father is standing ten feet away. He actually looks over at us, eyes dropping to our clasped hands, and with a neutral expression turns back to listen to whatever the cops are telling him.

Gray and I just sit there and watch.

Cops come in and out of her house, walking around us on the porch steps. Brian Brannon makes about a dozen phone calls.

And Gray and I just sit there and hold hands.

When a news van pulls up, Gray gives my hand a squeeze and I know what that means. Time to part ways.

I stand up from the porch along with her, and we walk down toward her father. When Brian turns toward us, he doesn't spare me a glance but looks at Gray. "You ready to head to the hospital?"

"Yes," she says, but then gives a pointed look at the news van. "But what kind of damage control do we need to do?"

"Damage control?" her father asks sarcastically, but I hear a tone of teasing. "You mean the fact that a player you fired came to your house and assaulted you at knifepoint, only to have you saved by your secret boyfriend who also is a player?"

I wince because damn...that needs some damage control.

Brian looks between the two of us. "How long has this been going on?"

Gray doesn't touch me but she does take a step closer. She's presenting a united front. "Three months."

"And you--what?" Brian asks with a cocked eyebrow at me. "Just thought you could keep it secret?"

"We thought it best for Gray's career not to rock the boat," I tell him truthfully.

He gives me a nod of gratitude and then sifts his fingers through his silvered hair. "Look, I'm going to give a statement to the news and basically tell them what happened. Except I'm going to tell them Ryker was coming by Gray's house to work on a charity campaign. I'll say I was set to be here at this meeting too, and that should quell any questions as to why Ryker saved the day."

"I don't think that's necessary," I say as I cut a quick glance at the reporter standing outside the van. "I made a decision today. I'm going to announce my retirement after this season. That removes any conflict for Gray and me to be together, so why don't we just come out with it?"

"Don't you dare," Gray hisses at me, and my gaze snaps to her. "You are not going to announce your retirement. The way you're playing, you can score a lucrative deal next season, if not with our team, definitely another."

"She's right," Brian says. "You've got a lot of play left in you. I don't think you should let your career go just yet."

"With all due respect, sir," I say, and then turn my gaze to Gray. "I don't give a shit about my career. I love you and this lets us be together."

Gray's eyes soften and she smiles at me. I'm itching to grab her...kiss her...show that reporter standing over there what she means to me. But she shakes her head and her voice is gentle. "Ryker, please don't make a decision like that until we can talk about it further. Let my dad smooth this over for right now. Let's get pass this mess, and then we can decide what to do when our emotions aren't so high."

"But--"

"I love you too," she murmurs. Her eyes slide over to her dad. "I love him and we're going to figure this out, but for right now...do what you have to do so we minimize the impact with the media."

Brian Brannon looks at his daughter a moment, then turns a shrewd gaze toward me. He's sizing me up and I can see the wheels turning in his head. But he ultimately gives her an acquiescent nod.

She looks at me, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Fine," I grumble. "We'll keep it secret for a bit longer."

"And...?" she prompts me.

"And I won't announce my retirement," I add like a little schoolboy.

"Thank you," she says softly. "Let me go get my purse and I'll be ready to go to the hospital."

"I'll follow in my car," I tell her.

"No, you can't come," Brian Brannon says, and my protective instincts over Gray kick in.

I'm not really caring at this moment whether he's the owner of this team or the father of my girlfriend. "Like fuck I can't."

Brian narrows his eyes and steps in toward me. His voice is low, authoritative. "I appreciate your concern for my daughter, but I'm not going to come up with some glossy lie to protect you and Gray, just to have you ruin it by coming to the hospital. It's too personal. A player wouldn't do that."

"I could say--"

Gray touches my arm. "He's right, Ryker. It would look suspicious, but I'll be fine. It's just a few stitches to my head."

My gaze drops to her splinted wrist. "And a broken arm."

She shakes her head. "I don't think it's broken. Just badly sprained."

"Are you lying to me?" I ask her.

"Yes," she says with a smile. "But please...f

or me. Just go home and my dad will take good care of me. I'll call you later."