Judging by the way his eyes flare in surprise, it’s not the answer he expected. I also don’t think he’s surprised often, because he seems quite intrigued. “Do tell.”
“About two weeks ago, I was downtown when I ran into Dominic Lee’s sister.” Conniver’s lips purse, and though I suspect he already has several new questions, he stays silent, letting me speak. “She’s an amazing custom jewelry designer that works primarily on heritage pieces, and she’d just bought a new ring. Unfortunately, it was stolen right out of my hands by a mugger on the sidewalk.”
“That is unfortunate.” It’s lip service at best, and as he takes a sip of his liquor, his eyes drift away like I’m boring him.
He thinks he’s got it all figured out. Tonight’s fight with Dom was because I let his sister’s ring get stolen, end of story. But that’s not even the CliffsNotes version of what’s happened.
“The ring was a five-karat diamond, surrounded by baguettes, in bezel-set gold. And it shouldn’t have been at the antique store Penny bought it from, according to the two guys who were there, desperately searching for it.” I level him with a hard look. “The two guys who have been messaging her, following her, stalking her, and that showed up at the game tonight looking for her because they think she still has the ring. The ring they want to find before their boss realizes it’s missing.”
Conniver’s face has gone perfectly blank, his eyes cold. It’s eerie, like he simply turned off his emotions. They’re shark’s eyes, a predator ready for the kill possibly. “This ring, do you have a picture of it?”
I move to reach into my pocket for my phone, but the guard instantly steps forward, grabbing my bicep. I glance up at him, slowing my movement and showing him that it’s just my phone, not a weapon. Cleared, I cut my eyes to Conniver, who shrugs. “He’s my defense. I’m sure you understand that.”
I do. I understand defending a goal. But not a man. Especially not a man most people need defending from.
Not commenting on that, I find the picture of the ring on Penny’s hand and turn my phone around to show Conniver the screen. He barely glances at it before his eyes lift to mine. “Where did you say she bought this?” The question is sharp, his tone accusatory.
“Yesteryear Antiques. I don’t think anyone there knew the ring’s history. Or owner.” I lift a brow in question, wanting to confirm that I’m right and the ring is his.
“It was my mother’s.” He looks at the photo again, this time his gaze longer and considerably warmer. “You said it was stolen?”
“Yes, we talked to several pawnshops, and a few fences, trying to find it. The mugger was a young guy with freckles, wearing a red hoodie. Johnny K said he might know the guy.” I don’t bother explaining who Johnny K is, figuring he probably already knows or can find out. “But my concern is the guys following Penny. They’ve tried to get her home address, and they were obviously looking for her at the game tonight. That’s why I had to get her out of there. Which made Dominic realize that something’s going on between us before we were ready to share that with him.”
“Hence the fight,” Conniver summarizes. He sighs, his finger tracing the rim of his glass. “These guys, what do they look like?”
I cut my eyes to the security guy standing beside the table. “Like him. Big, tough. One of them is named Tommy, I think.”
“Thomas and Mark,” he says instantly.
The names don’t really help me, though they do confirm that I’ve been right this whole time. The ring? Conniver’s. The muscle? Conniver’s. Penny? In danger.
“I just want them to leave Penny alone. I’m really sorry about your ring, and if Johnny K finds out anything, I’ll let you know. But Penny has nothing to do with this. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and bought a ring she thought was beautiful that she was excited to redesign.”
“She was going to redesign the ring?” he snaps.
That’s not the important part, not at all, but I have to play nice to some small degree. “You can look her up—PLDesigns. She repurposes old jewelry, like heritage stuff. Turns them into modern pieces of wearable art. But what about the guys? You’ll call them off?”
I frame it like a question, a request, tailored to a man like Conniver. But it’s most definitely a command, and he knows it. He stares at me for a long moment, his face expressionless, and I’m almost certain I’ve signed my own death certificate, but then he slowly turns to the security guard. “Tell Thomas and Mark that I’d like to see them first thing in the morning at my office.” The guard nods, silently acknowledging the order. Conniver turns back to me, his tight smile still making him look like a shark. “It’s handled. Miss Lee won’t come to any harm.”
That easy? I mean, sitting across from this guy isn’t easy despite the fancy restaurant. “Just like that?”
The corners of his lips lift into what might be considered a smile but feels more like a threat. “Is there anything else, Mr. Mahoney?”
“No. I guess not. I just want Penny to be safe.”
“And she will be,” he says with a wave of his hand as though he’s a magician that can simply make it so. And I guess, despite the lack of a top hat and wand, he is.
“Um, well . . . thank you.”
I go to stand but freeze halfway when he adds, “I trust there won’t be any further issues on the ice between you and Mr. Lee during the playoffs?”
There will definitely be issues between me and Dominic. Lots of them. But on the ice, we’ll keep our shit together. We’re solid players, and we want that Cup, for ourselves and for the Hawks. And for the city.
I nod. “No problems.”
“Good.” He manages to make the single word sound likeif you know what’s good for you, you won’t fuck up my gambling, or I’ll be forced to take my losses out on you.
Just like that, I walk away from the table, feeling the security guard’s gaze follow me and all too aware that I just sat with the closestthing to the Grim Reaper that I hope to ever meet. It was surprisingly uneventful, at least on the surface, but I would hate to be Tommy and Mark tomorrow morning.
