Fresh Ice (30 page)

“I know, right? But I could have sworn it, until she took off her scarf. She had short hair, pretty short anyway, and dark, almost like yours.”

Quinn relaxed. “Well we all know how Serena is about her long, red hair.”

“But how awesome would that have been, Boss Lady trying a bar pick up on that sad looking dude there? That would have made this stinkin’ delay almost worth it.”

“True.” Glancing over his shoulder, Quinn’s relief was complete. Where ever he was, Collier James was no longer ten feet from him, hanging like a cloud over Quinn’s quietly euphoric thoughts. For a moment Quinn felt sorry for Collier, knowing how he’d feel if he’d lost Izzy to another man. The feeling passed as he could not stifle a grin.

His cell buzzed. The airline had finally sorted out the delay. Quinn realized he wasn’t going to miss the game at all.

I’m still miles away from Izzy, but at least I’m moving in the right direction.

Izzy leaned against the boards at the rink and smiled.
How great is my life all of sudden? I’m skating again. I’m back on day shifts. I’m not a walking zombie.

I’ve fallen in love.

Quinn was due to return in a few hours, and Izzy ached for him. She craved his smile and voice, almost as much as she craved the weight of his body pressed against hers. She closed her eyes, recalling his good-bye kiss at the airport.

If this is what love feels like, bring it on!

She opened her eyes and took a deep breath.
I’ve got work to do.

Building up some speed, she transitioned into a spin sequence, something she could never teach Quinn. Too well, she remembered Coach’s constant barking when it came to spins. No one could time revolutions properly, he always said. She was too fast, and her partners were too large to move as quickly as she did.
Jason was closer than anyone, but Coach hated Jason.

Coach’s stance had always been clear: Izzy was a strong enough skater to skate solo. In the end, thanks to her parents, Izzy wound up with a partner and virtually no spins in her routines.

How different would my life be if my parents had any confidence in me?

Izzy grabbed her water bottle and drank deep.
Doesn’t matter. I would never trade Jenna for a box of gold medals.

She set her bottle on the bench and glided to center ice.
Besides, I wouldn’t even be close to appreciating the magic of skating right now, completely by myself. Just me and the guy at the concession stand.

She whirled herself into a long sit-spin combination, not stopping until her brain was completely disoriented. She slowed and glided unsteadily to the boards, where she leaned heavily, catching her breath.
I do love to spin.

Glancing at her watch, Izzy frowned.
Time to go already?
She checked the concession stand, which was abandoned.
He must be closing for the night.
She put on her skate guards and walked up the ramp to the locker room.

In the half-light of the locker room, Izzy removed her skates and slipped into her warm-up pants. She bent low over her shoes to snug the laces.

“You have no right to be here.”

Izzy startled at the sight of the woman shadowed in the corner. She couldn’t make out a face, only a slim frame, clad in black, and dark hair pulled into a sleek, short ponytail.

“I’m sorry, but I do. My friend is an owner. He said I could skate here.”

“I’m sure he did.” The woman stayed out of the reaches of the dim overhead light.

Izzy bit her lip. “I’m leaving. I’m going right now.” She picked up her skate bag.

“Not yet.” The woman moved suddenly, smoothly, like a snake. Izzy wasn’t aware how close she was until her arm was in the woman’s vise-like grasp.

“Look, lady, I don’t know what your issue is, but I’m leaving so it’s okay.” Izzy attempted to pull her arm away, but the woman merely tightened her grip.

“You have no right to be here. Not in Nashville, not on the ice.” The woman hissed against Izzy’s cheek, her grip tightening.

Izzy swallowed and tried to remain calm.
There’s no one to hear me if I yell.
“Okay, okay. I’ll leave.”

“Oh, that’s very right you’ll leave.”

Izzy knew her shoulder was dislocated a heartbeat before the bolt of pain fired from her neck to her fingertips. She couldn’t contain an initial screech, but tried to bite back her cries, sensing a prolonged reaction would encourage her attacker further.
Breath through it…
she closed her eyes and called up Coach’s encouragement from the day she dislocated her shoulder in practice.
Breathe through it.
Anger bubbled up as Izzy tried to make out the woman’s face in dim light.
There’s something familiar about her.

“You’re leaving Nashville now. Before that charity event. Quinn thinks he’s in love with you. I can’t have that. If he’s in love with anyone, it’s me.”

Who are you? How would you know anything about the event, or me?
Izzy blinked, trying to stay conscious as wave after wave of pain wore away her resolve. “Look, I have no idea who you are, or what I did to offend you.”

“Don’t talk to me about offense!” The woman shoved Izzy without letting go of her dislocated arm.

Off balance, Izzy waved her free hand wildly. The woman howled as Izzy grasped her hair, pulling several strands from the woman’s scalp. The woman twisted Izzy’s dislocated arm, sending Izzy to her knees, weeping in pain.

Showing no mercy, the woman jerked Izzy to her feet. “You dare to talk to me about giving offense?” The women shook her.

Summoning what was left of her strength, Izzy slapped the woman as hard as she could. Her fingers curled, her nails caught a corner of the woman’s cheek. Shrieking, the woman flung Izzy against the lockers.

Pain raged through her, and Izzy slid to the floor, helpless.

The woman crouched over her, a predator on its prey. “This is your only warning, Isabella Landry.”

Who is she, that she knows my real name?

It was Izzy’s last conscious thought.

***

Quinn paid the cabbie and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of his building. He stared up the thirty floors to where he knew, though he could not see, his windows looked over the city, cold and unseeing.
I should have had Izzy stay here while I was gone. Then I wouldn’t have to come home to an empty apartment in the middle of the night. At least Izzy would be sleeping in my bed. And maybe she’d make some coffee.

The simplicity of the domestic image warmed him.

His cell buzzed in his pocket.
Izzy.
“Hey there, Beautiful.”

“Mr. Murray?”

His body tensed.
Why would anyone but Izzy be calling me from her phone?
Quinn tried to match the strained voice with a face.
Oh yeah, the concession stand kid at the rink.
“Chase?”

“I’m sorry to call you, but I can’t get hold of Collier, and something’s happened. You were listed as Miss Izzy’s emergency contact.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “What’s going on?”

“Someone…someone attacked her.”

Quinn blinked, and tried to process Chase’s words. “What do you mean, someone attacked her?”

“She was here really late, practicing, like Collier told me she would be. I closed everything down, then I waited at the door to let her out and she wasn’t there. So I went back
and did a complete search of the place. I went to the locker room, and she was here, out cold, and her arm looked weird.”

Quinn’s stomach churned.
There’s only one person who would want to hurt her.

But Serena had no way of knowing Izzy was even at the rink.
He took a deep breath. “Okay. Did you call an ambulance?”

“I did. I’m sorry, sir. I know you wanted this lady to be a secret.”

Someone obviously found out.

Chase told Quinn where they’d taken her. His jaw taught with rage, Quinn hailed a cab and headed for the hospital, dialing Izzy’s friends and family as his cab tore through the predawn streets of Nashville.

Mikayla, Cat, and Jenna beat him to the waiting room.
“
How is she?”

Jenna wiped her eyes. “The gash in her head wasn’t too deep. They’re stitching her up right now. We can go see her in a few minutes.”

A nurse waved at them. Quinn held up a hand. “Ladies, I know you’re really eager to see her, but do you mind? I’d like a minute alone.”

“The cops are in there.” Mikayla pointed out.

“That’s fine. I won’t be a minute.”

Quinn hustled down the hall and pushed the door open with more force than he intended. The door slammed open, nearly toppling a female detective.

“Quinn Murray?” The detective looked confused. “What are you doing here?”

Izzy looked like death; her arm in a broad sl
ing, a trace of new stitches peeking out under her bangs, her skin translucent under the harsh lights. “This lady is a friend of mine.” Quinn glanced quickly at the badge and credentials the detective held up. “Detective Emerson, we want the same thing right now, so let me clear something up right away. I didn’t do this.”

“I didn’t say you did. I heard you on the radio, calling the game. You must’ve gotten the world’s fastest flight out of Toronto.”

“I had a very good reason to come home quickly.” He continued staring at Izzy’s silent form. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to her for a moment.”

“Sure. I’m done here anyway. I have hair and skin samples to get to the lab.”

“Hair and skin? She wasn’t…” a chilling thought stopped his heart.

“No, there’s no sign of sexual assault.” Detective Emerson nodded at Izzy. “She’s a pretty resourceful lady. She managed to get some hair and a little bit of skin under her fingernails. It’s evidence anyway.” She nodded to Quinn one last time, and left.

“Izzy,” Quinn flew to her side.

“Hey,” she eased one eye open, and managed a weak smile. “Did the Preds win?”

Quinn ached to laugh and take her in his arms. “Yeah, they won. You look like one of the Leafs’ forwards, though. What happened?”

She tried to sit up better, and failed. “It was so strange.” Her voice was weak, far away. “I was in the locker room, and this woman grabbed my arm. She said some really strange things.”

“Like what things?”

“She told me to leave Nashville. That I
couldn’t skate in the event.” She paused, staring at the sling. “This is my catch arm. The last time I dislocated my shoulder it took almost two months for it to feel right. The event’s in less than a month.” She raised tear filled eyes. “What if I can’t skate? This’ll ruin everything!”

Of course she’s more worried about my event than her own safety.
“Don’t you worry about anything than healing, you hear me? The event’s not ruined. We’ll just…” His voice trailed off as he suddenly understood.

Izzy can still skate. Just not with me.

Serena’s warning me.

Izzy closed her eyes again. “I’ve been trying to think about her face. It was dark. She had dark hair, really dark, and sort of short. I saw an outline of her face. That’s it.”

The door opened a crack, and Jenna peered in. “Jenna and Mike and Cat are here. I’m going to let them talk to you. But I’m coming back. I’ll come back and I’ll take you home when they release you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Quinn kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered against her forehead. He leaned closer. “Whatever else you might hear, you hold on to that, got it?”
God only knows where this is going to end.

She nodded.

He got up and hustled outside where the sunrise promised a beautiful day. “How could you, Serena?” He hailed a cab, and gave the driver her address.

The ten minutes it took to get to Serena’s apartment building were the longest in his life. The doorman tried to stop him, but withered behind his desk when Quinn shot him an icy glare. The elevator door opened immediately, and he stepped in, punching Serena’s floor number with venom.
It ends now.

He knocked on her door, which, for the first time since he’d been coming to her place, was closed. A moment, then two ticked away before she opened. “What a nice surprise. It’s a bit early, but please come in.” She stepped aside slowly, as if welcoming him for a casual evening.

“What the blazes did you do?”

She sat at the kitchen table, and picked up a glass of orange juice. After a slow, ponderous sip, she glanced at him innocently. “I haven’t a clue what you mean. And you didn’t say anything about my hair. I had it done in New York.”

Really dark and short, just like Izzy said.
He studied her face.
Make-up isn’t hiding that scratch.
He paced in front of her, trying in vain to slow his racing heartbeat. “You attacked a woman late last night.”