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“Excuse me, I need to go,” I tell him.
I turn to leave, but Murry blocks my way again. “Come on, sweet thing. What’s your hurry? I just want to have a chat with you.”
“She said she has to go.”
A breath of relief bursts from my mouth when I see Ben walking in off the court late. Ben’s eyes are narrowed, his face etched with anger as he glares at the large man blocking me from leaving. He steps up to Murray, standing chest-to-chest with him.
“This ain’t your business, bro,” Murray says.
“I’m making it my business,” Ben growls. “I’m not going to stand here and let you force yourself on this woman.”
Murray scoffs. “I ain’t forcing myself on her. Please, bitch. I’m trying to have a conversation with her. That’s all.”
“And she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to you. So, get out of her way and let her go about her business.”
“Man, why don’t you fuck off?” Murray snaps.
“Walk away. Now,” Ben says, his voice a low rumble.
“And if I?—”
Murray doesn't get to finish his question because Ben gives him a hard, two-handed shove in the chest that sends the man flying across the hallway. He crashes into his two buddies who manage to keep him from hitting the deck. He quickly shakes them off, fury on his face, and is just about to start across the hallway when a pair of cops steps into the corridor, eyeing them all carefully. I’ve never been so happy to see LA’s finest before in my life.
“Everything okay here, folks?” asks the burly, older one.
Murray glares at Ben, who returns his glare with a look of amusement. “Yeah,” he says. “Everything’s fine. Murray and his friends here were just headed back to their dressing room. Isn’t that right, fellas?”
“Yeah. Right.” Murray throws Ben a scowl. “I’ll see you again, Givens.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Murray turns to look at me and winks. “And I’ll definitely catch up with you later.”
Ben stands in front of me protectively as they walk off, and I turn and thank the police officers who give me a nod and walk away as well. I’ve never been the damsel in distress sort who needed somebody to protect her. A few guys tried to white knight me, and it never failed to piss me off. But seeing Ben swoop in out of nowhere like Batman and save me from those clowns set my heart racing in ways I never expected. And when he turns those intense eyes on me, it sets my stomach churning. My mouth grows instantly dry and, predictably, I feel myself growing uncomfortably wet as I stand beside him.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m fine. Thank you for stepping in.”
A crooked grin curls the corner of his mouth. “No problem,” he says. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the press room.”
5
BEN
Unfortunately for me, a video of my altercation in the hallway after last night made its way to Coach Holman and Gary Pryor, the team’s GM.
I have no doubt Murray put that ball in motion. He can’t beat me one-on-one, so he gets my boss to drop the hammer on me. Two games. That’s the price for doing the right thing and defending a woman from his unwanted advances. But that’s the kind of bitch he’s been since he came into the league five years ago, so I shouldn’t have expected anything different from him. What a pathetic piece of shit.
“Another one,” I say to the bartender and raise my empty glass.
“You got it.”
I’m sitting in a dark corner of the Iguana Lounge, a little hole-in-the-wall bar I found near the apartment I'm renting. I like it because this isn’t the kind of place sports fans come to. This is a place where people come to have a drink in peace and quiet.
Nobody bothers me here. Hell, except for the bartender, I don’t think anybody in the bar even knows who I am. But he’s good enough to let me be, which is a good thing. I’m really not in the mood to talk to anybody right now.
The bartender sets another bourbon down in front of me, and I give him a nod before picking up the glass and taking a sip, reflecting on my shitty day.
