Roughing the Kicker (Austin Troopers)

Chapter Nineteen

A s soon as he saw Coach J rushing in his direction, Rye knew it couldn’t be good. So much for the pleasant evening he’d hoped for. Instead, he had Cutter flaunting his date in Rye’s face, and now a Kristen crisis. And he had a pretty good idea what that was about.

“Which way?” He asked.

“The restroom’s over that way. Down the hall.” Coach pointed. “I’ll come with you. I can guard the door and make sure nobody else goes in there until you can figure out what’s going on.”

“Thanks.” He took off toward the hall where the bathrooms were, with his coach trailing behind.

“Wait, Rye.” The voice belonged to Cutter, and Rye stopped. “Do you need me to come, too?”

“No.” The last thing he wanted to do was drag Cutter further into his sordid personal life. It was bad enough Coach J and his wife were now involved. “Get back to your date. Have a good time.”

“Okay, but call me if you need anything.”

Rye barely heard him. His focus was on Kristen and any damage control that might be necessary. He located the women’s restroom, where Jan Ross stood outside the door. Behind her, Rye could hear Kristen’s voice, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. It sounded like some sort of nonsensical ramble.

“Rye, thank goodness you’re here,” Jan said. “Kristen and I were at the bar chatting and she said she had to use the restroom. I was talking to a few other people, so I wasn’t paying much attention. Then I realized I hadn’t seen her come out after about fifteen minutes, and I got worried. I came to check on her in here, and I found her hunched over the sink. She was pale and shaking and saying something about there’s going to be a reckoning, over and over. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing having Jaxon come get me. Thanks, Jan.” Rye moved past her into the bathroom, where the scene was exactly as the coach’s wife described. The only thing the she left out was the empty vial laying by the sink.

That damn precious vial of hers. He knew he should have checked Kristen’s purse before they left the house.

They’d deal with that later. Now, Rye had to save face with Coach and his wife. Time to play the concerned fiancée. Appearances were everything, after all. “Kris, baby, are you okay?”

“They’re coming.” Her body trembled. “They were here, and they left, but they’re coming back. You know, right?”

He knew, all right. He’d heard it before. The rambling. The paranoia. All of it. He knew what usually followed, too. “I do know, baby. I’ll get you home before they come.”

“Is she okay?” Jan wanted to know. “What’s going on? Has this happened before?”

So many questions, and Rye wasn’t sure how to answer them. He tried to take them in order. “I think so. I hope so. She’s on a new medication.” There came the lies. “It doesn’t mix well with alcohol,” he said. That part was true at least. “Do you know how much she had to drink, Jan?”

The coach’s wife hesitated. “I’m not sure. A couple glasses of wine. I think she was on number three when she left. I thought maybe it was a lot, and kind of fast, but that’s not my business.” Her face took on a worried expression. “Is she going to be all right?”

“Yes.” For now, Kristen appeared to be coming down from her high. The rambling had stopped, anyway, though she was still trembling. Rye took his jacket off and put it around Kristen’s shoulders. “We’ve been through this before. She’s had some health issues lately, and then this new med she’s taking. She’s still adjusting to it,” Rye told Jan, hoping that would mean the end to the questions. “She shouldn’t be drinking on top of it, but she wanted to come tonight, and I thought it would be okay. It’s my fault.

“C’mon, Kris. It’s time to go home.” He helped Kristen to her feet, hugging her against him. She was pale and trembling, but at least the nonsensical rambles had stopped. “Thanks again, Jan. Coach,” he said. “For everything you’ve done.” Hopefully, they would keep things quiet. Rye didn’t think it would be a problem. The coach and his wife were good people.

“I’m sorry the night didn’t turn out the way you’d hoped,” Coach J said. “Please, let us know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Rye promised. Hopefully he could get Kristen out of the banquet room without too much attention. Image was everything right now.

“Rye? Are they here?” Kristen’s body shook next to his as he escorted her out of the bathroom and through the ballroom.

Please, no one stop us , he thought. Rye wondered where Cutter might be, but he didn’t scan the room to seek him out. He’d worry about that later. For now, he wanted to save face and get home. He owed Coach J and his wife for keeping a buffer between them and anyone else at the party as he half escorted and half drug Kristen to the truck.

“There’s no one here, Kris. It’s just us. No one is after us.” He helped her into the truck. “We’re going home now.”

He understood that the ramblings, the paranoid thoughts, the tremors were all the result of her cocaine high, and it was only made worse by the alcohol. Rye had been dealing with it long enough to know the signs. Kristen was fine now, in a manner of speaking. The real threat was when she came down from her high. And she would. It was only a matter of when.

“Where are they?” Kristen repeated over and over on the drive home, and even when Rye helped her into the house. “Did you do something to them?”

“No, I didn’t. I promise,” he said, struggling to keep calm. He’d never seen Kristen quite this bad before, and he was beginning to get scared. Jan said she’d had two, maybe three, glasses of wine, but there was no way of knowing how much cocaine she’d snorted. Rye had just seen the empty vial. “They’ll be here. Let’s get you to bed.”

He half carried; half dragged Kristen to the master bedroom. The one he’d vacated weeks before and didn’t miss. Sure, the mattress in the guest room wasn’t comfortable, but Rye still slept more peacefully on it.

“Do you want to take a shower?” He asked Kristen when he got her to the bedroom. “I can help you get in.”

“No!” She shouted. “I don’t want a shower, and I don’t need your help. I want to know what you did to them.”

“There’s no them, Kris.” Rye reached for her arms, trying to steady her. “I didn’t do anything, and no one is coming.”

“Because of you. It’s all your fault,” she shouted as she pushed him back.

The last thing Rye felt was his head making contact with the armoire.

~&~

Cutter handed Lane a beer and encouraged him to make himself at home, even if he never should have invited the sexy—but a little bit vapid—hockey player to house. Now Lane might expect sex, and Cutter was by no means ready to deliver that. No, this whole thing was a mistake. He blamed it on his messed up headspace ever since Coach Ross interrupted Cutter’s conversation with Rye with the news about Kristen. Whatever that news was.

“Thanks.” Lane took the beer from him. It was nothing fancy. Only the cheap stuff. When Rye was here, Cutter offered him the good stuff from the local brewery. “I had fun tonight.”

“I’m glad.” Cutter wished he could say he’d had fun, too, but it wasn’t true. He’d watched Rye enter the party with Kristen and been jealous. He’d watched his date play blackjack with Rye dealing and been preoccupied with the dealer. And then when he finally got a minute or two alone with Rye, they were interrupted with a Kristen crisis.

Cutter officially hated Rye’s fiancée. It wasn’t one of his more mature moments, but whatever. He didn’t know much about Kristen, other than she abused Rye. That was more than enough to hate her.

“You’re sure there’s nothing between you and the guy who was dealing blackjack?” Lane asked. “He’s the team’s kicker, right?”

“Yes, he’s the kicker,” Cutter said. “And no. I told you before, there’s nothing going on between the two of us. We’re friends. That’s all.” He didn’t believe the lie himself, so why should he expect Lane to find any veracity in it?

“Okay, good,” Lane said, “because I want you to know that I really like you.”

He should have been flattered. He should have been thrilled. He should probably move in for a kiss, which was sure to be reciprocated. This was an extremely sexy professional hockey player. What the hell was Cutter’s problem?

Rye. Rye was his problem.

And Rye was way too wrapped up in Kristen and their toxic drama to ever care about Cutter.

Fine. If that was the way it was going to be, he could, and would, move on.

“I like you, too,” Cutter said, inching closer to Lane with the intent of kissing him. Before he could, though, the doorbell rang.

Lane jerked away. “Are you expecting someone?”

“No. Definitely not.” Cutter got up from the couch. “Let me just get rid of them quick, and we can get back to what we were doing.” Which wasn’t much but might have potential. He walked to the door and pulled it open.

Rye stood there, bleeding from the head.

“Rye! Jesus, what happened?” Cutter demanded.

Before he could answer, though, Rye fell into Cutter’s living room.