The Slot (Rochester Riot #1)(61)

Julia pushed away from his embrace with limp arms. “I don’t need help. Can you go find my friend, SueAnn?”

“SueAnn?” he questioned as he scanned the room with his brown eyes. “I don’t know her. What does she look like? There are hundreds of people in here tonight.”

He snaked an arm around her waist and she found she no longer had the strength or mental fortitude to fight him or utter a protest.

“Water?” Her mouth felt as if a wad of cotton had been shoved inside.

“Let’s just start making our way toward the front door and I’ll look for SueAnn on the way.”

Carter led her through the horde of revelers and steered her toward the front door.

Wait, my phone!

She’d left it lying on the bar and SueAnn wouldn’t know where she’d gone.

Adam.

Julia tried to pull away, but couldn’t. She tried to speak, but couldn’t. Something was wrong with her. Very wrong.

***

Adam stared at the circle of guys and tapped his booted toe. He’d been gone for almost fifteen minutes and he’d left Julia alone at the bar. He didn’t like being the kind of douchebag that abandoned a woman alone in a crowded bar whether they were on an official date or not. If his mom were here, he’d be hearing about it.

“Dude,” the one with the Caribou jersey shouted above the music. “What the hell? ACL and now an accident? We need you, man.”

Adam had always prided himself on being cordial and warm to the fans, but he could feel his blood pressure rising. He was the one whose life had imploded. He was the one who could no longer do what he loved. They acted like they were the ones who had felt the physical and emotional pain of the injury. Then the accident and what had really caused it.

“Yeah, it sucks.”

They weren’t getting anything more out of him than that admission.

“Is it really true that you’ll never play again?” another one asked with a low whistle.

“I’m going to fight and try to rehab,” he promised. Knowing deep in his heart that the chance was one in a million that he’d ever claw his way back to the NHL elite.

“Thanks for doing Duluth proud.”

After a few more minutes of commiserating, autographs and selfies, Adam was finally able to thread his way around the crowded dance floor, heading toward the bar where Julia sat waiting for him. Except … her stool was now occupied by a forty-something, red-haired cowboy with a beer gut.

He stopped in his tracks and utilized his height to look over the heads of the patrons in a search for her petite frame. Thank God she had white on and with her long, thick hair, it shouldn’t be too hard to get her on his visual radar.

He craned his neck back and forth until a blessed relief poured over him when he spotted her leaning against some guy a few yards from the door. Until he realized she wasn’t walking under her own power and that same guy was leading her outside to the dark parking lot. And that guy was Carter Jenkins.

Shit.

They’d been frat brothers at UMD and Adam wasn’t a fan of the rich and spoiled Carter whose dad owned a heating and air conditioning company. Any scrape Carter got himself into, Louis Jenkins bought him out of so he never had to take accountability. Carter liked it rough and he’d heard rumblings for years that he liked to slip drugs to co-eds so he could sexually assault them.

Adam’s heart started pounding out of his chest. He searched in vain for Jeff or SueAnn to see if they were closer to Julia because there was no way he could make it to her before Carter got her outside to his car. Julia was only a few yards from the door right now. He pushed bodies to the side in an effort to get them out of his way.

“Watch it, buddy!” A college kid said as he almost took a header from Adam’s body block.

“Sorry,” he tossed back over his shoulder.

When he got within twenty yards of the front door, he saw Julia slump against Carter and he picked her up and carried her over the threshold into the vestibule.

Son of a bitch.





Chapter 8

Julia’s head swam and she felt like she was floating. High above the parking lot. Above the street lights. Into the dark, starry night like an eagle soaring from high above.

Except, Eagles didn’t have their backs scraped raw by brick buildings. And they didn’t have hands pulling their lacy bras down and exposing their nipples to the frigid night air. She felt the sensitive skin puckering in protest at the temperature and vaguely realized that they shouldn’t be uncovered. But she also felt this delicious languorous feeling take over her limbs and she wanted something to fill her.

Something.

“My God, Julia,” a man whispered as he rubbed her erect nipples back and forth between his fingers. “So responsive. So hot. You’re going to be the best f*ck I’ve had in ages.”

The man held her upright with one hand and used the other to guide her hand down between his legs to simulate a rubbing motion as he bent his mouth to capture a nipple in between his lips and then his teeth.

“Ouch!” she cried out as it took a few seconds for the pain to register in her foggy brain.

Adam. Adam, you’re hurting me.

So unlike him. She’d never thought Adam would hurt her when she’d dreamt of this happening. With him. Only him.

Adam … but not Adam. She tried to struggle but just couldn’t get her limbs to obey her.