“She was dead when the police got there,” Rey says softly. “My father went to prison for life. That’s why I was raised by my grandmother.”
“I’m so damn sorry.” My voice is rocky with emotion and I clear my throat.
Finally, she turns back to face me. “That’s why I do what I do. Protecting women and children is my life’s calling. It’s therapeutic. And I know my mom would be—” Her words are cut off as she crumbles into tears again, “proud of me for what I do.”
“Yeah, she would.” I close my eyes, trying to figure out what to do with the well of emotion opened up inside me now by Rey. “Do you want me to go wait for that guy to come out of the deli and kick his ass? Because I will.”
She laughs and wipes the corners of her eyes. “If I wanted his ass kicked, I’d do it myself.”
“I know you could. I just want to do something, you know?”
Rey nods. “I know exactly what you mean. When the memories hit me hard, I find a shooting range and imagine I’m firing at my father. After a couple hundred shots, I always feel better.”
“You want to go do that right now? I’ll go with you.”
She smiles and squeezes my hand. “I can’t, because I’m a makeup journalist. That’s the same reason I walked away from that situation back there.”
“I get that.” I think about our options for a minute and say, “It’s not the same, but I know a little ice rink where we can go shoot pucks at a net.”
“You’re a goalie. Do you even know how to shoot?” she asks in a teasing tone.
I laugh heartily at that and say, “You’ll find out. Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll pick up some sandwiches on the way,” I say.
“Jonah…thank you,” Rey says as I start the car.
“You never need to thank me.”
She sighs softly. “I guess now you know the anger isn’t just because I’m Cuban. I’ve got another fire inside me, too.”
I squeeze her hand and I don’t want to let go. There’s an attraction building hard and fast inside me that I wasn’t expecting. I want to hold on to Rey, but I’m starting to also want more. To cool the flames she feels inside. Or at the very least, burn with her.
Chapter Eleven
Reyna
The Carson Center is alive with energy. The stands are filled with fans dressed in red, many holding signs and yelling in anticipation of their team taking the ice. A photo of a bald man with flames painted all over his face and head appears on the Jumbotron and I turn to Mia Petrov, lips parted with surprise.
“We have the most devoted fans in the game,” she says simply.
“Wow.” I shake my head, impressed.
This is the first professional hockey game I’ve ever been to. I had no idea it would be like this. The arena is dark, lights dancing along the ice and through the stands as music plays. When the Blaze starting lineup is announced, each player skates onto the ice to a roaring crowd.
“Go baby!” Mia yells when Anton skates out.
Jonah told me Mia would befriend me, and he was right. She’s stuck by my side since I got here a couple hours ago. We’re in a family suite, where we ate from a buffet earlier and spent time hanging out.
Jonah and I have been “together” for about a month now and part of Mia taking me under her wing is so she can introduce me to players’ families, Blaze staff and VIPs. I was hoping Darren Shields would be one of those VIPs, but I haven’t seen him yet.
“Your goalie, Jonahhhhh WEST!” the announcer calls, and Jonah skates out, his expression all business.
He glances up at the box we’re sitting in, and Mia gasps.
“He’s looking for you. He really likes you.”
I lean in so she can hear me over the crowd. “Does he usually not look up at women he brings to games?”
She laughs in response. “He’s never brought anyone but Lily.”
“Oh.”
Oh. It hits me how hard this must be for Jonah, pretending to be falling for someone new. I knew the media would be all over us, but it’s an absolute frenzy. At least one photographer is always following me, and that’s not exactly ideal for an agent working undercover.
I’m vigilant about maintaining the makeover Kai gave me. If I leave the house, it’s with Renee Carlisle’s trademark curled hair and precise makeup. I always wear sunglasses when I’m outside, and Kai makes sure I dress like I know dick about fashion, because in real life, I definitely do not.
“It’s good,” Mia assures me. “This thing with you and Jonah, it’s good. Don’t feel pressured about it or anything. Just enjoy it. It’s been so long since I saw Jonah smile.”
“Did you know him when he met Lily?”
The noise in the arena drops in volume as the opposing team takes the ice, and Mia takes her seat. I follow suit.
“No, that was back when they were in high school,” she says.
“Oh god, I didn’t know that.”
She nods, her lips turning down with sadness. “It was such a shock when she passed away.”
My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask, “What was she like?”
“Lily was…bright,” Mia says, smiling. “She had long blond hair and pretty green eyes and she was nice to everyone all the time. She was happy and you could just feel the happiness coming off her. And I loved her, don’t get me wrong. I truly loved her. But I felt like I needed to be more like her for a long time, and I just…can’t. I’m just not that way.”
“You seem very nice to me. And happy.”
“Oh, I am,” Mia says, smiling big. “I’m so damn happy. But I’m not always nice. I’m a South Side girl, and I’ll cut a bitch if I need to.”
I laugh, feeling a kinship with her. “Yeah, same.”
“Where are you from?” she asks me.
I hesitate, wanting to tell her the truth, but knowing I have to stick with my cover story. “Puerto Rico.”
“Oh, we went there on vacation once and it was spectacular.”
I shrug, because while I’m not really native to Puerto Rico, I studied the country thoroughly for this assignment.
“Parts of it are,” I tell Mia.
“Okay, so this is the puck drop,” she says, and I’m glad to not have to continue telling her about my false persona. “It’s like the tip off in basketball.”
Jonah is bent down in front of the goal, intently watching the action unfolding before him. As soon as the puck hits the ice, players battle for it with their sticks.
“So how did you and Jonah meet?” Mia leans over to ask me, keeping her gaze on the ice.
“In line at a deli.”
“Aw, I like that.”
I ask, “How did you meet Anton?”
“We met when I was married to one of his teammates.”
“Oh, wow.”
Mia turns to me and says, “I know that sounds bad, but it actually wasn’t. We didn’t get together until after I split with my ex.”
“You guys found each other and you’re happy, that’s what matters,” I assure her.