"If you don't want any trouble, the door is that way." He jerked his head back toward it.
"Sable isn't going anywhere," Forrest said. "Let's all lighten up. Let the players on the ice do the fighting."
That sounded like a good idea to me. I wouldn't turn my back on Woody, but I would turn my attention to the ice as the players gathered together for puck drop.
"Which one is Garrett Ryan?" I asked.
"Number thirteen," Leif said.
I squinted.
Number thirteen was a wall of muscle with black hair, blue eyes and a scowl directed at Mikko. Yeah, there was definitely no love lost between those two.
Sticks in hand, they bent over, waiting for the official to drop the puck. Mikko won the face-off and the game started hard and fast.
Clack and skid; shout and slap. The players from both teams sprinted around the ice, sometimes so fast I could barely follow what was going on.
Garrett Ryan slammed Mikko hard against the boards before skating off. The crowd groaned, but Mikko shook it off and shot off after him. He stole the puck from Garrett, skated around behind the back of his goal and passed the puck to one of his teammates. Between them and the rest of the line, they found their way past the opposition and put the puck into the goal first.
The crowd went wild.
"Hell yeah." Leif fist pumped the air. "That's what I'm talking about."
I grinned over at him. "This is exciting."
"Of course it is." He grinned back. "Best sport there is."
"What could be more fun than a bunch of people with knives on their feet?" Woody asked.
"Better on their feet than in their hands," I said.
I hated to think what he might do with a knife shoe. Or even a hockey stick. I was not going to think about any other stick he might have in his hand at any given moment.
Definitely not.
He gave me a sarcastic smile.
I shivered. Was I supposed to pretend nothing happened? That he hadn't been about to stab me the other night? I couldn'thelp a tiny hint of doubt. Maybe he was trying to scare me? To get me to… I don't know what.
No, I'd seen the look in his eyes. If it wasn't for Forrest, he would have followed through and not regretted it.
In the time it took for me to look at him, the opposition scored.
The crowd groaned.
I watched the Jumbotron for the replay, frustrated I missed it. This wasn't the kind of game you could look away from without missing something.
I dragged my eyes from the screen when Mikko and Garrett Ryan took off their gloves and started punching into each other.
"God, I love hockey." Leif grinned.
Since his brother now had blood coming from his nose, I wondered who was the violent one here in this box. Him or Woody?
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 11
FORREST
