Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(52)

Have I mentioned lately that I love my partner?

A few minutes after the period ended, the office door opened. A security guard stepped in. “Right this way, sir.”

And then… Nathan.

He came in, and he instantly recognized me. His sneer made my teeth grind. “You again? What the—”

“I’m going to need you to come with me.” I moved closer and gestured at the door. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t move. “Fuck you.”

“Did you get the impression he was asking?” Laura appeared beside me.

Nathan scoffed and shook his head. “You can’t just boot me out.” He lifted his chin as he glared defiantly at me. “I’m a season ticket holder. I have a right to be here.”

“You can work that out with the ticket office,” I said coolly. “In the meantime, how about you come with us?”

Nathan looked around, and his jaw worked as his eyes flicked from me to Laura to the two cops behind her. Much like he had when Mercer Island PD had shown up at Asher’s place, he deflated, probably realizing he was outnumbered and in the wrong. His expression sullen, he showed his palms. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“We’ll stay with you.” Laura fell into step beside him as he headed for the door. “To make sure you leave the premises.”

He muttered something—probably “bitch”—but kept walking.

For about three steps.

As Laura was reaching for the door, Nathan spun around.

And before I knew what was happening, his fist met my face.

The blow stunned me for a split second, which was long enough for me to lose both my balance and situational awareness.

“Geoff!” Laura’s voice was the last thing I heard before the world went out from under me.

Lights. Movement. White. Pain.

I blinked a few times, and it took a second to realize I was on my back. And that my head hurt like hell. There was commotion around me, and a white ceiling with fluorescent lights above me, and I was lying on something hard at a weird and uncomfortable angle.

The stadium. The hockey game. The office. Nathan. The punch. It all came tumbling back in a cascade of fragmented thoughts in the same moment my partner knelt beside me.

“Geoff?” She touched my shoulder, eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay? Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah.” I gingerly reached for my face, and flinched away from my own touch as I brushed something tender on my cheek. “I’m good.”

“We’ll let the hospital decide that. Don’t move. I’m calling—”

“I’m good,” I insisted. As my awareness returned, I remembered why I was here, and that we had a narrow window before the players—one player in particular—returned to the ice. “Nathan? Is he—”

“In custody. Take it easy, okay?”

Sitting up slowly, I added, “I’m fine.”

Laura sighed with audible exasperation, but the hand on my shoulder didn’t try to push me back down. Once I was upright, I paused, making sure the world didn’t lurch sideways. My head was pounding and my cheekbone was throbbing, so yeah, maybe going to the ER wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Get someone in here to clean that up, all right?” someone barked at the staff, his voice edged with both irritation and worry.

Clean what up?

But then I noticed the warm trickle down the back of my neck. I reached up, and I wasn’t all that surprised when my hand came back wet. The sight of that much blood on my fingers didn’t do much for my equilibrium, though. It didn’t get any better when I glanced back and saw how much was on the concrete. It wasn’t exactly a ruptured artery’s worth, but it was enough to make me woozy.

“How bad does it look?” I asked Laura, trying to quell the rising panic.

“It’s a head wound, hon.” She peered at it, then gestured dismissively. “Just one of those little cuts that bleeds like mad.” But there was a hint of concern in her voice that made me wonder. She offered her elbow. “Come on. Let’s go put something on that, and then I’m taking you to the ER.”

I didn’t argue. Mostly because another trickle of warm blood down the back of my neck made me want to throw up.

Someone handed me a wad of napkins they must have swiped from a nearby concession stand, and I held them to the back of my head. I didn’t like how quickly they soaked through, but I tried not to think about it. Still sitting on the cold, hard floor, I leaned forward, head between my knees and hand keeping the wet wad of napkins to the wound. I focused on catching my breath. And how bad I was shaking. And how hard it was not to puke.

Laura put a firm hand on my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

I groaned.

She kneaded gently. “Look on the bright side—it’s a hockey game. The night wouldn’t be complete without some bloodshed.”

“Great. Glad I could be entertaining.”

She gave my shoulder another squeeze. “Stay put. I’m going to go park the car by the entrance so you don’t have to walk as far.”

I didn’t protest. My head was starting to clear, so it must have just been the shock from seeing all the blood. I could handle the sight of blood, but I wasn’t going to lie—there was something disconcerting when it was my blood.