The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(20)

“I don’t need you to do my dirty work.”

“Mica, let me take care of that rat. I’ve been looking for a reason to pick a fight with that guy, and I have five other associates looking to do the same.”

The last thing I wanted was for Charlie to become the poster child of a turf war between gangs.

“Charlie’s safety is my priority.”

“Yazimoto is a snake that steals from the chicken coop. He doesn’t want a war. He’s too careful about not provoking a direct conflict with any of us. You can trust me that she will be safe.”

I trusted Andrusha. I had always trusted Andrusha, and he had never let me down. I nodded. “Thanks. Her name is Charlie Watt.”

He nodded. “That is a good strong name. She will have to be strong to put up with you.”

I shrugged and didn’t deny that statement. “She’s tough. Her brother is in prison.”

“I’ll make sure he’s safe too.”

I didn’t ask how. I didn’t want to know.

Andrusha handed me a phone. “For emergencies. Someone will always be on the other end of the number I have programmed in there. If you ever need to get in touch with me, need help or need to talk with no one listening in, you use this phone.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

“We shouldn’t see each other for a while.”

I knew that. “Right.”

“But”—he slapped my shoulder—“I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”





Chapter 7





CHARLIE





I felt disoriented as I opened my eyes, squinting against the soft sunlight that streamed in through the balcony doors. Sitting up, I took a better look at the large guest room. Someone had decorated the room in a delicate blue and white that accented the sturdy, white-painted furniture.

I felt no real loss over my apartment. It had been nothing but a shitty holding place while I tried to get out of debt, but I felt uncertain now that I had no home. I had no idea where to go next.

Last night, when I was sitting alone in Emergency, and Krista hadn’t answered her phone, I realized I had no one else to call. Two years of working two jobs had left me with no real friends. I hadn’t wanted to call Mica, but I had no choice. And somehow, I knew he would step up for me. It surprised me when he brought me home. At best, I thought he’d give me money to stay at a hotel.

Now I needed to figure out my next steps. I needed to get a hold of Krista. She would offer me a place to crash. I tried her number again, but her phone was still off. I showered and then dressed myself again in Mica’s clothes. I crept out of the bedroom, but the house was silent. I found a note on the counter in a thick, masculine scrawl. Went for a run.

I moved my clothes to the dryer and then stood in his kitchen, looking around the place. It looked better than it had the other day, but the couch was nearly destroyed and no one had rehung the paintings that still leaned against the wall.

The alarm chirped and then Mica appeared, breathing hard, his hair wet from exertion.

Without speaking, he moved into the kitchen and filled a glass with water before downing it. I stole that moment to take in the breadth of his shoulders and hard muscles beneath his T-shirt.

“Thank you for last night.”

He shrugged.

I tried again. “I’m still trying to get a hold of Krista. I’ll be out of your hair shortly.”

“You might as well stay here since we’re getting married.”

I blinked. That hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming offer. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be here.

He set the glass down. “I’m going to shower. Then we need to go buy you some clothes.”

I didn’t have a dime to my name. If we went shopping, he’d need to pay. I would wait until I got in touch with Krista. She could lend me money, and I could buy my own clothes. “That’s not necessary.”

His eyes dropped over my body, taking in my bare feet and his sweats. “You need clothes.”

I wanted to protest. But he had me there. I didn’t even have a toothbrush to my name. I needed his help.

I promised. “I’ll pay you back.”

He shrugged, uncaring, as he put his glass in the sink. “Give me fifteen.”





*



Wearing my yoga pants, tank top and Mica’s hoodie, along with a pair of his big flip-flops that looked completely ridiculous on my feet, I didn’t speak as he parked at the nearest mall.

I couldn’t keep up with his long strides and he seemed incapable of walking slow, so our progress across the parkade consisted of him walking ahead of me then stopping and turning to watch me try to catch up to him. On any other day, I would have thrown some sarcastic shade his way, but not today. I felt about as vulnerable as I had ever felt, and I was completely at his mercy. The guy was about to spend his money to buy me clothes. He could get away with murder today, and he wouldn’t get a peep out of me.

I had a game plan. I would buy two pairs of pants and two shirts that I could wear at both my bar job and at work, and I would alternate washing them until I got paid. Then I could come back and buy more clothes.

Mica grabbed my arm and steered me into a store I never shopped at. Mostly because the prices were exorbitant. I didn’t know what to do, so I wandered up a couple of aisles, looking at the gorgeous items hanging on the racks before I found him talking to the saleswoman.