Enforcer (3 page)

“Randi…” he started, wondering how to tell her without sounding like an asshole.

“It’s fine,” she said, but her face looked ready to burst into tears.

“Stop,” he told her, coming to a complete stop and keeping her from going on. “I didn’t mean it like I don’t care. I just mean it’s good that you’re going to college. Besides, we play in Tacoma nine nights per season. Same for Seattle. I hear that Olympia might even be getting a team in a year or two.”

Randi smiled, hugged him, then dragged him along through the lower level of the garage to her car. Connor didn’t have the heart to tell her what he really meant. She was barely eighteen, fresh out of high school, and had no idea what she wanted in her life other than some fantasy of falling in love and getting married. She thought the biggest disaster in the world was having to leave Boise and all of the friends she’d grown up with, while his biggest disaster was getting through daily life with the knowledge that he had been destined for greatness, but now barely held on to the fraying threads of that destiny.

*****

Randi plopped herself down on his bed while he grabbed his travel bag and began to stuff clothes into it. The bed was the only furniture in the apartment other than a single recliner parked six feet from a small flatscreen television out in the living room. The kitchen wasn’t disgusting, but it was easily apparent that a single man in his twenties with a carefree life lived there.

“When will you be back?” she asked as he rummaged through a laundry basket of mostly clean clothes.

“Sunday night,” he answered, sniffing at a white t-shirt.

“Will you miss me?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, feeling guilty for letting her continue to think they were an exclusive couple. He didn’t turn around when he said it so she wouldn’t be able to see the lie on his face.

“Will you miss them?” she asked in a low voice.

Connor looked back, not sure who she was talking about. Randi knelt on top of his bed, wearing only thin blue panties, her hands cupping her breasts. A small part of him felt angry at her for just assuming they would have sex because he let her drive him home, let her hang out in his apartment while he packed. A much larger part felt very differently, and he dropped the travel bag and climbed on the bed.

*****

“I love you,” she told him after.

He said nothing, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“You don’t have to say it,” she said, her lips forming a pout again. “I know I’m just a stupid little girl.”

“It isn’t that,” he said.

“It is. And I know all the others throw themselves at you.”

“Randi…”

“I know you see them. I’m not stupid Connor. You’re this big hockey star and I’m just Randi Patterson from shitty little Idaho. I know you just want to fuck and nothing more.”

“Randi, come on…”

“No. It’s fine. I’ll go to Washington and you’ll bang the other
puck bunnies
that show up to the games in their tight skirts and tighter sweaters.” Connor was about to say something but she interrupted him. “Yes, I know what a puck bunny is, and I know that’s what you all call girls like me.”

“You and I met when you were wearing a tight skirt and a tighter sweater,” Connor laughed, unable to help himself.

“Fuck you,” she said, but she couldn’t keep the laughter away either.

“I’ll let you if it will shut you up about being some lonely eighteen-year old spinster going off to college who won’t ever get laid again,” he said, rolling over, his hands roaming.

“Stop it,” she said, slapping at his hands. “I’m not a spinster. And I don’t want to get laid by some college boy. I want a man.”

“I’m still a boy,” he said, avoiding her defenses with his quicker hands.

She gave up and reached down, grabbing him. “I’d say this makes you a man.”

CHAPTER 3

Randi wasn’t at the arena when the bus pulled up. Connor pulled his hood up as he stepped off the bus to keep the falling snow out of his eyes. His teammates milled around, talking about getting beer or heading downtown after they unloaded their travel bags. Some of the guys wanted him to go with them, but he told them he was feeling woozy from the painkillers Griff had given him after a fight during Saturday night’s game. As the bags came out of the bus’ cargo compartments, each player grabbed his bag, grouped up, and headed toward the parking garage.

Connor stood in the snow until he was the last one left other than the driver. He wanted to go downtown and forget about everything for a while. He would have no problem getting his drink on, meeting a girl, sometimes two, and get them to give him a ride back to his apartment. When they came in, they would always remark about his lack of furniture, and he would always joke that the bed would hold two comfortably. Three on one of those rare but lucky occasions.

He still felt like shit about the way he’d treated Randi. He felt like an even bigger asshole when he decided she didn’t meet him at the bus because she was just too ditzy, too forgetful. Not that Connor was the brightest tooth in the smile, or a great conversationalist. Most of the women in his life knew that he was aloof, good in bed, but not much to talk to.

It wasn’t that Connor didn’t possess intelligence, he just felt like he had nothing to talk about with most of the women. The few that he felt comfortable enough with to see more than once or twice were married or had boyfriends. They would never alert him to this fact until after they were relaxing after climax. He was fairly sure if they’d mentioned it before hopping into his bed that he wouldn’t have cared any more than he did when told after. Connor didn’t have a problem sleeping with a married woman, but he knew better than to try and have any kind of relationship with one.

He pulled his phone out and scrolled through his contacts. He could call Randi, but he wouldn’t. Petre was the only person that caught his eye as he scrolled through the list a third time. Connor preferred to never mix his business and pleasure, and for the most part, he stuck to his guns. His employment with Mr. Ojacarcu was just a job. He didn’t socialize with his coworkers on that side of the business any more than necessary. However, Petre and Vadim were two that he sometimes spent his leisure time with, though he kept it limited. It was better if Mr. Ojacarcu knew very little about his private life, his friends, his girlfriends.

“Da,” Petre’s voice said.

“You busy?” Connor asked him, feeling the phone grow cold around his face.

“No way, Jose,” Petre said, pronouncing Jose with a hard ‘juh’ sound.

“I need a ride home if you can pull yourself away from looking at Ukrainian porn,” Connor said.

“You are at arena?”

“Da,” Connor said with his intentionally awful Romanian accent.

*****

Connor woke when the girl, Theresa, if he remembered right, turned over and put her head on his chest. His mouth felt like someone had poured mud and ashes into it. He extracted himself from her and made his way to the bathroom. As he stood in front of the toilet, he smiled, remembering how Petre had talked him into going out for a drink. They avoided the downtown scene and went to a sports bar in Meridian. Neither had been to the place before, but within an hour, as new patrons would come in, they would be told by others that Connor Dunsmore was gracing them with his presence.

A few would trickle by every couple of minutes, most just saying hi and shaking his left hand, marveling at the swollen and stitched knuckles of his right, as well as the scars that covered both. A lot of the fans were women, which was precisely why Petre liked to go out with Connor. Petre had told him many times that they made a perfect pair for
sexing women
, with Connor’s pretty-boy looks and status as a professional athlete, and Petre’s handsome, Eastern European features.

The girls would stop and say hello, smiling and giggling while Connor shook their hands, then he’d introduce Petre, who would melt them with his deep voice and Romanian accent. Petre would give Connor a wink and a grin when a pair or even a quad of females would approach them, and both would turn on the charm. Soon the girls would be sitting at their table, the two men buying them drinks and regaling them with tales of hockey, fights, and the tall tales of Romania that Petre would brag about, smiling and winking at the girls the entire time.

Sometimes Petre fought bears on the border of Hungary. Other times he was a strongman for a local gang while growing up. Once in a while he was a secret agent, and he’d mess with the girls by repeating some phrases he had learned to say in a perfect New Jersey accent. Connor was normally quiet other than when directly asked something, usually about how tough hockey players had to be, if it hurt when he got in fights, why did he fight.

Last night Petre was Connor’s bodyguard, assigned to him by Mr. Ojacarcu because of death threats from other teams who were scared of his hockey prowess. Theresa and her friend had known it was bullshit, but they played the game as well. Her friend gushed about meeting a real European, and a handsome one at that. Theresa had her hand on Connor’s thigh by the second pitcher of beer.

He flushed the toilet, washed his hands and face to wake up a little more, then wandered back to the bedroom. There wasn’t a coffee maker in the apartment, but a Starbucks was less than three minutes from the apartment on foot. He sat on the edge of bed, pulling clothes on.

“You want some coffee?” he asked the girl still dozing in his bed.

“Sure,” she said, turning on her side to face him.

“Gonna run to Starbucks real quick. There should be a clean towel in the closet if you want a shower.”

She pulled the sheet down, exposing her naked skin, giving him a smile. Connor smiled back, but instead of diving under the covers, he grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and headed toward the front door.

The sun was out again, but it felt barely above freezing outside. Steam from his nostrils formed thick clouds as he walked the back way through the apartment complex toward the gate that led into the shopping center. There was no practice today, only a light practice on Tuesday, then a game on Wednesday. His hands and legs were thankful to get a day off. Three games in four nights, and for Connor, four fights in three games, were beginning to take a toll on his body.

The two girls in their green Starbucks aprons gave him their widest smiles as he walked through the door. The girl at the counter, Alice according to her name tag, took his order, frowning slightly when he ordered two coffees. The girl at the espresso machine, Dana, gave him a wink at hearing the order. They’d seen him almost every morning when the Bombers were at home, and they both had learned over the last year and a half that a single coffee meant he was alone, two coffees meant he had a girlfriend.

Twice he’d ordered three coffees after he’d moved to the new apartment, and Dana’s eyes had nearly burst from her head. Connor’s subtle grin and wink the first time had caused her to let out a squeak that got the entire coffee shop’s attention. Her face had turned almost purple with embarrassment.

He gave the girls a ten dollar tip and headed back to the apartment. As he went back through the gate to the apartment complex, he decided to keep Theresa around for the afternoon if she was willing to stay. Connor needed a distraction and knew if he parked himself in front of the television, he’d spend the day thinking of how miserable his life had become, how badly he’d treated Randi, who was somehow in love with him, but he cared almost nothing for.

“Your phone rang while you were gone,” Theresa called to him from the bathroom as he put the coffees on the counter.

She poked her head out of the bathroom, hair wet from the shower.

“I was hoping you wanted to hang out for a bit,” he said to her as he reached for his phone.

She smiled. “I could do that.”

He unlocked the screen and saw the missed call from C. Ojacarcu. A thin thread of anger burned within him for a moment at the interruption of his life. He’d have to think of an excuse as to why he couldn’t show up, but in the end, he’d show up. He always showed up when Ojacarcu beckoned. It was the price Connor had to pay for a simple life of hockey, girls, beer, no debt, and little responsibility.

“Connor,” Mr. Ojacarcu said after answering Connor’s call. “I need you tonight. Be at my office by six.”

“Yes sir,” Connor answered and ended the call. At least he’d have the whole afternoon to let Theresa keep his mind occupied.

*****

Costache Ojacarcu paced behind his desk. Connor and Petre sat on the other side, watching their boss. Connor had seen his boss this upset before, but not often. His right hand gave a twang of pain at his thought of what kind of
talk
he and Petre might have to have with someone after they left the office.

“This fucking guy,” Ojacarcu said, “this fucking… worm. He is behind on his payments. I used to send David to collect from him, but David has let him get too far in the hole. From now on, you two will see him once per week and make sure he settles his debt quickly.”

“Yes, sir,” Connor said. Petre nodded his head once.

Ojacarcu sat down in his high-backed executive chair, steepling his fingers on the polished desk for a few moments.