Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) (19 page)

The stall door opened to reveal the last of the innocent
bystanders and Garrick’s only hope of a witness. Garrick tugged at his arms,
trying to free himself. No luck. The man in the stall stared wide-eyed at his
struggle, then bolted from the bathroom as if it were on fire.

Fucking chicken.

“Let the fuck go of me,” Garrick barked, fighting harder. He
almost knocked his captors off their feet, but the bastards held on. Goon Two wrapped
a second hand around Garrick’s arm.

“No, Mr. LeBlanc. That’s not how this is going to work.”
Robert Kramer’s smooth voice cut through the room, his vowels oddly rounded. Garrick
almost rolled his eyes at the bogus British accent. Was this guy for real? Garrick
had researched Robert Kramer thoroughly. He had been born not forty miles from
where they stood, had barely finished high school here in Moncton, and had lived
here every day since.

Robert Kramer was about as British as Garrick’s left nut.

The grips on his arms tightened. The goons appeared to be
enjoying their roles as enforcers. Garrick wished them luck. He wasn’t going to
make it easy.

He threw himself at Blondie, checking him hard and sending
him staggering into the stalls, his arms wheeling. He caught himself on a
partition, narrowly avoiding crashing onto the floor beside the toilet. Garrick
shuddered just thinking about touching the floor in this place. Blondie wasn’t
nearly so bothered. He was already up, thrusting up his sleeves to reveal a
Canadiens tattoo on the inside of his forearm.

Oh good
, Garrick thought gleefully,
a hockey fan.

With another hard check, he forced Goon Two into the sinks,
his ass almost landing in a basin.

Blondie grabbed the back of Garrick’s shirt and hauled him away
before he could check his friend again. Garrick threw himself back and slammed his
head into Blondie’s face.

A satisfying crunch echoed off the tiled walls, followed by
a howl of pain. Goon Two grabbed Garrick’s right arm again and Garrick narrowed
his eyes, prepared to prove that any hockey player worth his salt can punch equally
hard with either arm.

“Stop!” Robert Kramer’s sharp command brought both goons to
a halt. “Outside.”

Did these knuckleheads have to be addressed in single word commands
to ensure comprehension? He spun to fight Blondie off again, but Robert
Kramer’s words stopped him cold.

“Mr. LeBlanc, I suggest you cooperate, or I’ll see to it
that these two visit Ms. Morrison upon her return from Boston.”

Fuck
. Garrick’s blood turned to ice.

He wanted to rip Robert Kramer’s fucking lungs out. Instead,
he took a steadying breath and walked out of the men’s room, not bothering to
check to see if he was followed.

He turned to go back into the bar, but a hand shoved him
toward the back door.

Well, at least I can finally check out the rest of the
back hallway.

One door was labeled Supplies, and another had a brass clasp
and sturdy padlock securing it. The third door had no sign. No padlock. And if
he wasn’t mistaken, would allow for a pretty good-sized room between the
bathrooms and the alley out back.

Another hard shove sent him stumbling and his shoulder crashed
into the mystery door. It shook from the impact, but held. Damn it. He should
have thrown some extra weight into it. He seriously considered trying the knob.

He jumped back when the door popped open and a middle-aged
man poked his head out.

He immediately spotted Robert Kramer. “Everything okay, boss?”

Robert Kramer shoved Garrick farther down the hallway. “Go!”
he hissed at his goons, but not before Garrick got a glimpse of the room
beyond. It was set up like an office, the furniture handed down from the 1970s.
Faux wood laminate—
sexy
. The light from the filthy windows high on the
wall was weak, the glass covered in what looked like sheets of standard white
copier paper. There were at least four desks, all with sleek computers, some
with multiple monitors.

When Robert Kramer turned, Garrick pinned his gaze to the
exit and let the goons move him along. They slammed him into the release bar, shoving
the door open with enough force that it crashed into the brick wall and bounced
back. No alarm after all. Garrick jumped down the single step and into the
alley behind The Sugar Shack.

The sour smells coming from the dumpster were eye-watering.
The snow banks were high in places, partially obscuring their position from the
busy streets on either end of the block. He shook himself free from the goons
and stood his ground.

“Mr. LeBlanc,” Robert Kramer drawled. He stood in the door,
no doubt intending the step up as a means to look down on Garrick. Guess he
should have considered Garrick was a good eight inches taller than he was. Now
they were eye-to-eye.

“I’m not sure what brought you here tonight,” Robert Kramer
continued, “or what you thought to accomplish.”

“Just getting a drink,” Garrick said blandly.

Robert Kramer got to the point. “Stay away from my business,
Mr. LeBlanc. I’m not going to warn you again. If I find you snooping around, I
will see to it that Ms. Morrison pays the price. Do I make myself clear?”

Garrick shook with the desire to launch himself at Robert
Kramer. God’s honest truth, the only reason he didn’t was because he wouldn’t
stop once he started.

“Why the fuck don’t you man up and come after me? What kind
of asshole threatens innocent women?”

“The kind of asshole who knows what threats work. Take me
seriously, Garrick. Ms. Morrison’s safety depends on your good behavior. Everyone
is vulnerable sometime. Somehow.”

Garrick had never been more keenly aware of that fact than
at this moment.

Savannah was tired. Way down, deep-in-her-bones tired. She
staggered off the airplane, relieved the Moncton airport was small enough that
she would be able to grab her bag and drag her ass to her car within a matter
of minutes.

When she’d arrived in Boston, a quarter-mile concourse hike
to an escalator had delivered her down into traveler hysteria to retrieve her
bags. But then, in Boston, she’d been walking on air, on her way to interview
with an NHL team.

She still couldn’t believe all that had happened. The entire
trip had been exhilarating. And exhausting. Normally a game by the bench was
her idea of the perfect night out, but then normally she knew the people, the
team, the details.

The coaching staff had been curious but welcoming, the players
friendly. A few had commented on her outfit, which she acknowledged had been
highly unusual for the circumstances. Heels and a skirt at a hockey game. Maybe
she’d start a new trend.

For now, she forged down the concourse toward baggage claim.
The first time she heard her name called, she shrugged it off. When she heard
it a second time, she looked up and found Garrick jogging toward her.

A slow smile spread across her face. Clutching the shoulder
strap of her carry-on, she took off at a run. When she was within a few feet of
Garrick, she dropped her bags and threw herself at him.

He caught her against his broad chest and held her tight,
her feet off the ground. Her arms coiled around his neck, her face buried
against his skin, his pulse to her lips.

She didn’t care who saw. She had to leave this city, to get
away from the Kramers. Right now, all she cared about was celebrating her crazy
trip to Boston and being held by the one person who really, truly understood.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Garrick murmured into her shoulder.

He sounded surprised. Pleased. Sexy. She smiled against his
neck. “Hi.”

“Good trip?”

She lifted her head and he let her slide down his body, her
feet touching the floor gently. “Awesome trip.”

“You’re going to get that job.”

She grinned. “From your lips to god’s ears.” She cocked her
head. “What are you doing here? I have my car in the lot.”

Garrick shrugged. “It’s a long story. I had Rhian drop me
off, so we can take your car home together.”

She wanted to ask why, but figured standing in the middle of
the airport wasn’t the time. Quickly, they retrieved her bag from the carousel
and her car from the parking lot. As soon as she settled into the passenger
seat, more than happy to let Garrick do the driving, her burst of energy disappeared
and she slumped against the seat, her eyes sliding shut.

Before she knew it they were back at the farmhouse. She dragged
herself from the car and up the front stairs. Garrick grabbed her bag from the
trunk and, with a start, she realized she hadn’t even gone to get it.

She stood on the porch and watched him unlock the door,
feeling a bit useless. “I’m sorry, I should have—”

He cut her off with his kiss. His hand cupped her face as he
walked her backwards over the threshold and into the front hall. He pushed her
to sit on the long bench, his lips never leaving hers. Dropping her bags at
their feet, he hovered there, kissing her gently, their noses bumping.

Her heart kicked in her chest. His firm lips nibbled at
hers, his thumb stroked over her cheek, but he never took the kiss deeper, even
when her lips parted in a silent plea for more.

Eventually he drew back, toed off his sneakers, and knelt
before her. “I missed you.”

This should have been a terrifying admission, but her brain was
overruled by her heart.

“I missed you, too.”

He kissed her again. She ran her hands through his hair
before dragging her fingertips against the first hints of stubble along his jaw.
He slipped off her boots, his palm rubbing and warming her arches before
skimming back up her legs.

“Oh, that’s good,” she moaned as he massaged one foot.

His grin held more than a hint of the devil. “I’ve never
understood foot fetishes. But seeing your face when I do this...” He forced his
thumb up into the ball of her foot, right in the spot every high-heeled shoe in
the world could make feel bruised and weak. She gasped and arched her back, her
eyes narrowing with pain and pleasure.

Garrick shuddered. “That was hot.”

She smiled. “If doing this turns you on, feel free to
develop any kind of foot fetish you want.”

He laughed, moving to the other foot and eliciting more
moans of ecstasy. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she cupped his face in
her hands. She’d hardly leaned forward before he captured her mouth and thrust his
tongue past her lips.

The kiss was carnal. God, she’d missed this. Him.

She fisted her hands in his hair and wallowed in his taste
and her soaring arousal as he attempted to eat her alive. She tugged the
strands tangled in her fingers, making him grunt. She was desperate to feel his
skin against hers. Every inch of her body cried out for him.

Tearing her lips from his, she buried her face in the
junction of his neck and shoulder and absorbed the scent of pine, lemon, and
spice. Garrick.

Hands clumsy, she went to work on the buttons of his shirt.
It needed to be gone. All his clothes needed to be gone. She got the shirt open
and off his shoulders just as the last button of her jacket sprang free with
the help of his nimble fingers. They both shucked their top layer, panting,
before their lips came together once more.

It was a challenge to get a man naked when she didn’t want
to separate her mouth from his, but damn it, she was going to try. She maneuvered
his t-shirt until they only had to back off for a second to pull it up over his
face.

Garrick forced her skirt up over her hips and slid his
fingers over the tops of her stockings. A determined tug yanked her panties
down her legs.

She laughed as her undies flew through the air, then he
cupped her ass and hauled her to the edge of the bench. Their bodies would have
made contact, finally flush to one another, but she was still wrestling with
his damn fly. Stupid jeans. If they didn’t look so goddamn gorgeous on him,
hugging his magnificent ass like a lover, she’d burn them.

Now she was pinned, her breasts pressed together between her
elbows, her hands slipping into soft denim to cup Garrick’s thick shaft and tight
sac through his boxer briefs.

She tugged gently and he gasped. The slow curl of one side
of his mouth sent a zing of pleasure right through her.

His lips returned to hers for a peck, then cruised over her
cheek, licked and nibbled their way down to her ear, and drew the lobe between
his teeth. He sucked the tender flesh with quick pulses before carefully
scraping his teeth over it. God, that was exactly what he would do to her clit.
Her hips twitched at the memory, the aftershocks of those world-tilting orgasms
rising to the surface.

He used his teeth and lips to draw one bra strap over her
shoulder and made his way to the soft flesh cupped beneath. She shivered when
his soft stubble abraded her nipples before he latched onto the aching peak and
sucked it hard. He kissed a path across her chest, over her collar bones, along
her shoulder, nuzzling countless places on her body, awakening them.

How does he do that?

With a herculean effort to gather her wits, she ignored his
big hands kneading her ass, his lips torturing first one, then the other nipple.
She shoved his jeans low on his hips, dragging his underwear with them. The
moment his cock sprang free, she wrapped her hands around it and sighed.

Veins tickled her palm as she tugged her hands up and over
his shaft. She wasn’t gentle. She wanted him to feel her. The corners of his
eyes tightened with every yank under the velvet crown. Yes, this was how he
liked it. Just a little rough.

Garrick tore his mouth from her, his chest heaving. “Stop.
You have to stop. I don’t want to go yet and…
oh shit
…”

She smiled. Smug.

He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands away from his
body. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Pants barely clinging to his hips, he leaped to his feet and
dragged her up from the bench and across the hall. He looked as flushed and
needy as she felt. When they reached the bottom of the stairs a few short paces
away, he kissed her again. She met him enthusiastically, trapping his erection
between their bodies so it traced a warm line of pre-come across her belly. She
wished she could lick her own stomach.

Then again, why bother when she could go straight to the
source? Upstairs was too freaking far away anyhow.

She shoved him back. Hard. He caught himself a second before
his bare ass landed on the third stair. His cock bobbed against his stomach. More
pre-come pearled on the tip as she stared down at him hungrily.

She tore her gaze away from so much temptation to stare at
his beautiful face. His warm whiskey eyes had transformed to rich dark
chocolate. Her pulse thudded in her ears, throbbed in her clit. God, that
eye-color-changing thing was sexy. It wasn’t just about sex—it was about emotion.
Affection.

Her heart stumbled in her chest even as she fell to her
knees on the bottom step and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. His
shout of ecstasy was sweet accompaniment to the bitter splash across her
tongue. She closed her eyes in concentration and bliss, tugging his pants down
over his knees and forcing his legs apart. She relaxed her jaw and took him as
deep as she could, her hand around the remainder of his shaft, and set a steady
rhythm. Her tongue lapped at the head with each upward suck, her hand twisted for
each downward spiral.

She wanted him wild, shouting her name. She wanted to do to
him what he was always doing to her. To turn him inside out.

His hips bucked, his breath heaved. She sucked harder,
worked her tongue faster, forcing deep moans from his parted lips.

“Savannah!” His cry was hoarse, almost a question.

She loved the sting of his fingers tangling in her hair, tugging
it from the confines of the clip and bracketing her head. The tight clench spoke
of his control, and how close he was to losing it. That was what she wanted. Garrick
undone.

Running her free hand down her belly, she slid her index
finger along her slit and through the thick cream, careful not to bump her clit
and distract herself. When she’d gathered enough lubrication, she slipped her
hand beneath him and touched her finger against his anus, tracing the warm
moisture around his hole before pressing in. No resistance. She eased past the
outer ring and deep into his ass.

With a strangled grunt, Garrick went into overdrive. His
weight suspended by his elbows on a higher step, he shoved his ass down on her
finger then forced his cock up into her mouth. He wouldn’t last much longer at
all. She twisted her finger, searching for his prostate. No way he would get
through that without emptying himself in her mouth. Down her throat.

It was what she wanted. More than just about anything on
earth at that moment.

The last thing on earth Garrick wanted to do at that moment
was come in Savannah’s mouth.

 “Stop!” He forced his hips back against the stairs, away
from her mouth and her questing finger. “No. Stop. Please, Savannah. Stop.”

The please must have gotten through. She lifted her head. Her
swollen lips hovering above his straining cock almost undid him. And her
finger, still lodged in his ass, wasn’t helping. Jesus.

She was never what he expected. He’d demanded she let
herself go, be free with her passion, and still she surprised, delighted, and
shocked him every time they touched.

He stared at her glowing face and his chest ached. The image
of the Kramers or their goons touching her tore at him, his ribs squeezing
painfully, forcing the air from his lungs.

He would stop his inquiries. His stupid investigation. He
would let the Kramers have the Ice Cats before he let anything happen to
Savannah. If she didn’t end up in Boston, she’d land somewhere else. Her talent
was too great to go untapped for long. But wherever she ended up, that place
could not be Moncton. She had to leave and he had to let her go. He had to keep
her safe.

Heart pounding, he gently pushed her arm away and unwittingly
distracted himself from his worries. Nothing could have stopped the groan of
self-inflicted, agonizing frustration as her finger eased from his wildly
sensitive hole.

He lay sprawled on his stairs, panting, and tried to regain
his focus. He attempted a shaky smile. “No fair, you trying to finish me off.
I’m not done with you yet.”

Her shiver delighted him. The goosebumps raced across her
arms and flushed chest. He pulled her to him. Kissed her again. Slowly. Thoroughly.

He swallowed past the ache in his chest. He was going to
miss her, but she was here now. And she would remember him. If nothing else,
he’d do his level best to make sure of that.

She whimpered when he ended their kiss, and he grinned at
her bemused expression. Yes, she would remember him.

Jumping to his feet, he forced her back a step before he
tackled her. Holding her against his chest, he twisted and they tumbled to the
floor, landing with her on top so that he broke her fall. She squealed with
laughter but immediately put her hand over his sore hip.

Fuck that. His career in hockey was over as soon as the
Kramers took control of the team. It didn’t matter. Certainly not more than
this.

He rolled fast and pinned her to the floor. She moaned as
his cock jammed up against her slick folds, the head bumping over her swollen
clit. Her legs caged his hips.  Garrick closed his eyes and counted to ten.

He’d had some vague idea of torturing her the way she had
him on the stairs, but her heat, the moisture coating her thighs beckoned him.
He couldn’t wait.