The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(41)
“I hope you’re right. Not the jail part, but the not-being-stupid part.” She laughed nervously, still fearful that something bad was about to happen.
Cole grabbed Eloise’s hand and squeezed it. “There’s arena security all over the place; they’ll spot anything a mile away,” he assured her. She smiled and rested her head on his chest, inhaling the seductive scent of Gucci that she loved. The peaceful moment was spoiled by a familiar angry shout.
“Hey, lover boy, get your overpaid ass down to the dressing room and win this f*cking game!” Murphy yelled as he stormed up to them, Kristoff following in his wake.
Cole released Eloise’s hand and turned to face Murphy. “I was just leaving,” he said coldly. He looked back over his shoulder and winked at her as he left the bar.
“Have a good game,” Eloise said, her ire rising at Murphy’s ludicrous treatment of his star player. Her eyes followed the gorgeous jean-clad ass that Murphy had just blasphemed as it sauntered across the room and descended the stairs.
“Sheehan,” she said, her voice grating in irritation. “There’s no call for that.” She turned to face him. “Did you pay all that money just so you could intimidate the man, break his focus? How does that help the team win? It’s totally counterproductive.”
“Ooh, listen to the big words coming out of your mouth,” he mocked. “Bet you won all the spelling bees at the Carlson School of Manhandling. Listen, just stuff Fiorino’s cock in there instead and keep your opinions to yourself, or you’ll be looking for another job before you can say ‘deep throat.’”
“Oh, she doesn’t do that kind of thing, Sheehan,” Kristoff chimed in, flashing an evil smile. “El has a bit of an aversion to eating sausage, don’t you, my dear? Believe me, I know.”
Eloise stiffened, not believing what she’d just heard; mostly not believing that a man she’d once loved could say such hurtful things, private things, in front of their boss and whoever else might be within earshot. Incredibly, her encounter with Trevor had scarred even this part of her life. Her lips trembled in both anger and frustration, but there were no words big enough to express her disgust with not only the two men standing in front of her but the absent one as well. A flash of reporting them both to human resources swept through her brain.
Sheehan ignored both Kristoff’s comments and El’s humiliation. “Where the hell are all my guests?” he growled, looking over at the half-empty VIP section.
Simultaneously, both her own and Sheehan’s cell phones went off. Checking the screen, Eloise’s heart sank as she saw the security chief’s number displayed. “Eloise Robertson,” she answered quickly, her throat tight.
“You’d better get the police down here at street level,” the chief said. “There’s about a hundred people forming a human chain around the entrances. No one can get in or out of the place.” She looked up at Murphy, reading the same message on his pitted, reddened face.
“Roger that, chief,” she said, hitting her speed dial for their police unit captain. “Kristoff,” she said as forcefully as possible without attracting attention. “Get Sheehan into the secure area.” Owner protection was paramount in any public situation. Sheehan’s arrogance often caused him to disregard protocol and appear in the open without his bodyguards, but not tonight. Not on her watch, she vowed, as she moved quickly to the exit. As much as she’d like the pompous, disgusting man to get the shit kicked out of him, it wasn’t going to happen on an important night.
“Unit to sector zero,” she said into the phone, giving the muster code location to the captain.
When she reached the main entrance, the view to the exterior was almost completely blocked with the bodies of civilians and security staff alike. Between the cracks, she saw limousines and taxis cruise past, slow down, then take off again to avoid the messy scene. Police cruisers pulled up with lights flashing, and officers moved in quickly to subdue the crowd. Fear gripped her in the ensuing minutes, more terrifying than any she’d ever experienced. Witnessing out-of-control people getting tasered left her with a sick feeling in her stomach.
Eloise watched in horror as the surreal scene unfolded. Finally, officers took a few people into custody and were able to disperse the last of the demonstrators. She saw Trevor Reynolds being folded into the back of a police SUV. She hoped he’d taken responsibility as the ringleader so that most of the others could leave in peace. That at least would show some shred of integrity, but somehow Eloise doubted it. Trevor possessed zero ability to assess right from wrong.
Moving ahead with the coalition put Cole in a bad situation, pitting him between his job and someone he considered to be a friend. It was unthinking and selfish. Some people never changed.
She retraced her steps back to the arena. The Riot were up three to zero heading into the second period, and she’d made it very clear to the executives and press box that the players weren’t to be told what had gone on outside until after the game. She waited on pins and needles until the horn sounded for the final time. A three to two win for the Riot. She texted Cole to meet her at the player’s exit as soon as he was finished in the dressing room.
“What’s up?” he said once he was able to join her, a look of alarm on his face that must have matched her own.
“The coalition pulled a stunt, just like we were afraid of. They blockaded the entrances to Murphy’s Finest and the police had to get involved. They arrested Trevor.”