Off Her Game (2 page)

“Who's going to take care of the girls?” Val finally managed to ask

“To be honest,” Emery paused. “I don't know. I need you here, but the board… They're cutting my employee budget. I took a pay cut, too. Lost some benefits.”

“You still have a job.” Val heard the bitterness in her own voice. She was being petty, but hell. She’d earned some pettiness.

“I'm sorry,” Emery said again. Broken record, broken record. “This isn’t my choice.”

She stood and walked toward the door, her legs threatening to buckle. Out. She needed out.

Her throat hurt with the pressure of that lump forming. Her eyes burned as unshed tears rose to the surface. “I have to go.”

He looked up at her. Even from where she was standing, she saw the circles under his eyes. The rumpled way his tie was haphazardly tucked into his vest. The files upon files stacked high on the desk. As lousy as he might feel, it couldn’t compare. He still had a job, and she had… nothing.

“Thursday.”

“What?”

Emery scrutinized her like she was a tiger about ready to pounce. “Your last paycheck. It’ll be ready on Thursday.”

“Fine.”

Her last. The finality of that word frightened her, like walking out of that office was walking to her death. Either way, falling apart, unraveling in this place wasn’t an option. Control was important, and that’s how she’d behave.

Val kept her head high walking through the hallways of her former employment. She even managed to keep it high until she got outside the building. Walking across the vacant parking lot wore on her, hung on her shoulders like a double ton. As soon as she shut the door of her car, she leaned forward, her forehead on the steering wheel and the cracked dam inside her shattered.

***

Val smacked the other man’s hand off her ass. “Eric, I told you to stop that!” She’d said it in almost a teasing manner, but Darren knew her well enough to hear the uncomfortable strain in her voice.

Darren shot out of his seat, blind fury turning his vision crimson. He wrenched her away from the man and behind him, putting his body protectively in front of her. The drunk, Eric, rose to his feet. “Fuck off, Moran. Val and I are talking.”

“You don’t need your hands to talk.” Darren’s voice was low and promised a world of hurt. Val’s gaze was on him, but he didn’t dare look back at her. He wanted the rage, and she had that way of calming him. “I’ll be more than happy to break all ten of your dirty-ass fingers if you touch her again.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed on Darren. The bar hushed as patrons realized a fight was brewing. Darren didn’t stray his gaze. If there was one thing that hockey had taught him, you didn’t show weakness and you didn’t take your eyes off your opponent.

Or off your opponent’s hands. The blur of motion to the side caught his eye. Darren moved, blocking the incoming hit and countered with a right hook into the drunk's jaw. Eric’s head snapped to the side.

Darren stumbled, his own inebriated state making him sway. Adrenaline shot him back at the drunk, grabbing him by his shirt and tossing him off his feet. He slammed the man into the wall.

“Okay, enough of that!” The bar owner, Nick Logan, hauled the larger Darren right off his opponent and pushed him back into the bouncer’s arms, a simple toss as if he didn’t weigh two hundred pounds. The bouncer pulled Darren back, holding him away, but he zeroed in on his opponent, his vision colored in violence and fury.

Darren didn’t usually engage in bar fights, but today had been a bad day. Not only had he spent hours in a courtroom ending his marriage, but the guy had messed with his favorite waitress, even when she’d told him to back off. He needed to make him pay.
Someone
needed to pay.

Val’s boss turned to pick up the other guy from the floor, where he was crying and bleeding. Darren broke from Tom’s grip. He raced forward, intending to pummel the man into the ground. Valerie shot between him and his intended target. He stopped cold, not wanting to hurt her. She grabbed his arms, her fingers digging into his skin with each quiver of his muscles. She had that effect on him. It was as if his body was keyed to respond to her will.

“Darren, stop! He’s had enough!”

Seeing the drunk sitting up, his nose bloody and a shiner forming a perfect purple circle around the man’s eye… It didn’t seem nearly enough to him, not even the red line across the man’s brow, slowly trickling blood. He’d harassed Valerie.

Darren snarled, his predatory eyes seeking out his prey. “That fucking douchebag deserves an ass-beating.”

“Not in my bar.” Nick said.

Darren’s vision swam as his heart slowed and the alcohol in his blood numbed his outsides. Rage whirled around in his head. Nick met Darren’s eyes, no fear. Or maybe no common sense, with the way Darren was feeling. Val brought out his protective instincts. Right then, he wanted to plow Nick down and go after the other guy again.

“Back. The. Fuck. Off.”

Valerie grabbed his arm without a word spoken, catching his attention. If he looked at her, he’d calm down. He didn’t want to. He wanted to hurt the man who’d assaulted her. He balled his fists so forcefully his skin stretched white. Tense fury filled the air like a sandstorm. He let it fill him, holding tight and not letting go of it.

Valerie inched her way further between the two men, her soft skin brushing his arm. Damn it. He didn’t even need to look at her. “Look, Darren, let's go watch the rest of the baseball game, huh?”

He focused in on Nick, ignoring her to hold on to his anger.

“Darren!” Valerie cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.

The anger inside his tense body bled out like a tire with a hole in it. He blinked and his heart softened. “You're all right?” He looked over her, checking for injury. She didn’t seem hurt. Maybe she was far enough away when the fight started.

“Yeah,” she said. “I'm fine.” She glanced back at Nick, an unspoken word passing between them.

Nick nodded and stepped away to deal with the other guy.

Darren swayed a little as he took a backwards step.

“Oh, you are toasted, aren't you?”

He frowned, his lips fluttering. “Not toasted. Pissed. He grabbed you.”

“It happens. Darren… You can’t start a fight every time a drunk grabs a waitress’s ass.”

“Not every waitress. You. No one touches you like that,” he growled, his words slurred, even to his ears. “It's not—”

A large weight slammed into the two of them, Val caught between Darren and the drunk, who had decided on revenge. Darren caught the man’s wrist in mid-swing and tried to twist so Val was thrust out of the fray.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Val’s petite frame separate from them. He grappled with the man, forcing him down to the ground. He heard the shouts of the people around them, but his singular focus was making sure that guy would never touch Valerie again.

Several more jumped into the middle, pulling the two apart again and restrained them across the room from each other. Nick turned to the guy and his friends. “Take your friend and get the fuck out. Last thing I need is the damn cops in here, but I’ll fucking call them.”

“But—”

One vicious look from Nick and the drunk’s friends shut up. They helped their friend up and drudged toward the door. Darren grinned, seeing all the injuries on the man’s face, and the blood he wore like an extra coat. There were two things Darren knew well: hockey and fighting.

“You!” Nick wagged a finger under Darren’s nose. “Collect yourself, and be gone, too.”

Nick stalked away, muttering unintelligibly. Darren’s mood plummeted when he saw Nick helping Val off the floor with a wince. She was favoring her tailbone. On her face, there was a bright red spot on her cheek, in almost a perfect circle. She’d been hit.

The bartender frowned. “Which one got you?”

Val blinked a few times. “I’m not sure. It happened too fast.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Darren tensed, clenching his jaw shut. He rode out the pain it caused, especially after that last hit.

He stood up to go to her, but the bouncer blocked his way. “Come on, man. Go sit. Cool off a bit.”

Most of the buzz he’d had before the fight had vanished once his blood started pumping. But the rage he hadn’t felt all day had suddenly surfaced.

Val’s eyes met his. She excused herself from Nick and walked over while Nick’s glower hit him straight between the eyes.

The bouncer hovered over the two like he was afraid Darren would hurt Val. He didn’t fight another guy just to hurt the one he was trying to protect.

“Tom,” Val said. “Would you give us a second?”

Tom scowled. “I’m fine right here.”

“That’s nice.” Val shot him that you-better-go-before-I-choose-to-spork-you look. “Get lost.”

Darren grinned as Tom glared. Valerie never took no for an answer. It was one of the things he liked about her. Tom walked over to the bar. His body remained facing them when he leaned against the bar.

Val huffed and faced Darren, frowning as she scrutinized his face. His heart softened as she grabbed a couple napkins from the table dispenser and dabbed at his face, the scratchy napkin coming away red.

“This is going to hurt in the morning,” she told him.

“I’ve had worse.” He checked over her visually, looking for injury. Her cheek was a little red. Maybe she’d caught an elbow. The thought made him see red all over again.

“You’re such a guy.” Her giggle had a melodic quality to it, quickly disarming his anger. She dipped the napkin in a water glass and set it against his face. It was cool, but it warmed under her touch. His face was already flushing as a reaction to the injuries and the alcohol, or he might have been embarrassed. He wasn’t sure which. This close to her, he smelled soft vanilla, like ice cream. It filled his nostrils and just the scent of her made him smile.

“What are you drinking so heavily tonight for?”

“I got a divorce today,” he said.

She paused her first aid for a hair’s breadth, and then continued. “I didn’t know that was today.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to go home, because it’s being gutted. The hotel is… empty.” The reality of his divorce had hit him somewhere around lunchtime, when his wife had brought her damn boyfriend to the courthouse. From there, he’d been counting the hours until he could hit the bar. Just thinking about it made him reach for another drink.

Val took the bottle he grabbed—whose drink was that anyway?—and tossed it into a nearby trash bucket. “You're going home, okay, Darren? I can drive you. I’m getting off in few minutes.”

“Pfft.” His laugh was more a cross between a giggle and a snort. “I could call my wife, except that I don't have one anymore and she's too busy fucking the landscaper and trying to appeal the pre-nup.” He paused. A weighty depression fell over his shoulders. He slumped and stared off at the neon sign by the door. “I don't think he's that hot, you know? I'm much better looking. He's all swarthy and stuff.” Darren waved his hand. “I guess it doesn't matter. I mean, the woman only cares about money anyway. But what the hell is she doing with the landscaper then? I didn’t pay him that much.”

“Darren, I think it's time to take you home, okay?”

“Home?” He let out a breath, his lips forming a loose raspberry. Then he looked at Val. Was that pity on her face? She had a cute face, oval-shaped with skin like porcelain. Her ponytail swung like a pendulum with the movements of her head. “Home is empty.”

Without thinking, he touched his fingertips to her cheek. She flinched but didn’t push him away. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. Her skin was as soft as he’d thought.

Her hand covered his and gently pushed it down. “Thank you.”

“Huh?” He snapped from his thoughts and locked eyes with her.

“For trying to help,” she said. “I guess, for coming to my rescue.”

“I’m your hero?” He kind of liked the idea of being her hero.

“My knight in shining armor.” Her voice dripped with liquid sarcasm.

Not that Valerie Chase needed a knight. She was completely capable of handling things. He’d just lost his head, needed to let loose some aggression, and that guy had provided a perfect opportunity. But he was aware of how caveman-ish it really was.

“Val, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” Was he slurring? He didn’t feel drunk.

Val really scrutinized him for a silent moment than chuckled. “I think my knight is drunk off his ass.”

“Nope.” He tossed his head back and forth. “Sitting. Not off my ass.”

“Let me take you home, okay?”

“’Kay,” he replied. She held her hand out. “What?”

“Keys, mister,” she said. “We’ll take my car.”

He shut his mouth. He watched her a moment, but her hand never wavered and neither did her gaze. Muttering to himself, he dug into his pocket and dropped his keys in her hand.

Self-doubt yanked on Val’s nerves, pinching and pulling as she drove down the highway. Darren was quiet, so unlike his normal demeanor. Several moments of silence passed before Darren sat up, his knees bumping against the dash. He was way too tall to be in her tiny red car.

“Where are we going?” His eyes were bloodshot, even in the passing glare of the street lights as they drove. Sadness laced his dark irises. She didn’t think the alcohol was affecting him as much as it had been.

“To your hotel.”

“I don’t want to go there,” he grumbled. “I’m hungry.”

“Just sit back and relax.”

“Let’s get some ice cream.”

Val pursed her lips, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What? Ice cream? It’s nearly midnight.”

“I know a place.” He sat up the rest of the way and pointed. “Take Beach and go North. It’s right there on the right.”

“Darren, you should really just go get some sleep.”

“I will,” he said. “Let me treat you to some frozen yogurt and then I’ll go quietly.”

They drove through the streets in silence. Val's nerves had been shot for the last three weeks. Losing her job had put her into a tail spin she couldn't pull herself out of. She straightened her spine when they pulled into the parking lot.

She looked at Darren. “Seriously? You want frozen yogurt?”