at San Diego State University where, as well as being a student, she worked as assistant to the athletic director. Part of the job included being the public-relations liaison for all the different sports. She was responsible for coordinating efforts and maximizing promotional opportunities.
She made great contacts at State and at twenty-six she was the deputy director of public relations for a national hockey team. Well on her way to having her own PR firm by the time she turned thirty-five.
She parked on the street across from Smart Bail Bonds and Harry Smart stepped out to meet her.
“Ms. Austin.” He greeted her with a gap-toothed smile. Shorter than average with a round belly covered by a Hawaiian shirt, he had thinning brown hair and a pleasant disposition. He always insisted on walking her to the jail adjacent to the San Diego County Courthouse. “It’s been a while since the boys caused a ruckus. They must be missing their captain. I heard Ian is going to be out for eight weeks.”
“That’s right, but they started out strong, so we have momentum on our side.” Elle forced a smile when she wanted to shake her head. She knew the rules of hockey. Thanks to her brothers she knew the rules to most sports. And it was that knowledge that had earned her a rookie position with the Thunder organization eighteen months ago. And she loved her job, even if she didn’t understand the sport, the sheer violence of it.
She did know the more fights on the ice, the more fans in the stands. The games were battles, the players modern-day gladiators: fierce, competitive, combative, and the harder they fought the more the crowd cheered.
And Maxwell “The Beast” Beasley led the pack.
He was a public-relations dream and nightmare. The public loved his bad-boy persona as long as the team was winning, but when the team took a few losses, the public had little patience for player antics.
Elle avoided the lone-wolf player as much as possible.
Through the window of the bond office she saw a few of the wives and girlfriends of the players he’d led astray tonight.
When The Beast chose to party, everyone wanted to party with him.
But it was a subdued, somewhat sheepish crew turned over to her an hour later. Usually they were still full of themselves, boasting over their deeds and conquests of the night. But there was little chatter as they walked the few blocks to the bond office.
“That’s a pretty nasty cut, Hank.” She eyed the goalie, who sported a crude butterfly bandage over a slash on his cheek. “You should stop at an emergency room on the way home.”
“Nah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just a scratch.”
“Hmm.” Though his was the worst, all six of the burly men showed battle scars. Her gaze skipped over Max to land on the youngest of the group. At six-six and two-twenty, Jaden was hardly a child, but his downcast eyes and hunched shoulders gave him the look of a sulky teenager. “Happy birthday, Jaden.”
He shrugged. “Thanks.”
“Be nice, Grier.” Max cut the younger man with a cold glare. “She just bailed your butt out of jail.”
“I said thanks,” Jaden snarled back. A slight slur revealed that a couple of hours and a visit to the slammer hadn’t cleared all the alcohol from his system. He sent Elle a sideways look. “I got your card.”
She nodded. Her mother had taught her the power of the greeting card, and Elle plied it zealously. Her goal was to build up a personal connection with the players, because it made it harder for them to turn her down when she needed them for special events. Since she’d joined the team, she’d given every player a card on his birthday. Except Max.
Cringing slightly she justified the inaction by reminding herself she hadn’t thought of the cards until after his birthday the first year, and last year the team had been out of town. She’d meant to give him his card; she’d just never got around to it.
And then he hadn’t deserved a card.
Still, her mother would call shame on her.
“This night had bad news written all over it from the moment we arrived at the bar and saw junior here had started to party without us.” A voice grumbled from the back. “Kid, you need to learn to pace yourself.”
“I’m not a kid.” Jaden whirled to confront the other man, momentum and unsteadiness putting him right in the defenseman’s face. “I’m an adult.”
“You’re a punk.” The defenseman brought his arm up to brush Jaden aside.
Elle cringed as she saw it developing, and sure enough Jaden pushed back and a shoving match broke out.
No time. She had no time to intervene. No time to get out of the way.
Feeling like a child among giants, Elle expected to be crushed even as she tried to scurry backward.
Suddenly a hard arm swept around her waist, and Max swung them in a one-eighty so he took the brunt of the six-foot-five, two-hundred-seventy-pound wingman smashing into them.
Protected by his bulk she had the impression of massive strength, a hard body, a whiff of spicy aftershave and a huge impact. He didn’t even grunt.
But he cursed a red-white-and-blue streak after setting her safely aside and wading into the center of the fray.
“Idiots. You almost took out Elle. Get your heads straight.” He gave Jaden a hard-eyed stare. “We’ve already put on enough of a show tonight. Get your rides and go home.”
The men quickly dispersed.
Shaken, Elle straightened her jacket and brushed her hands over her hair, ensuring her sleek ponytail was intact.
Max homed in on her. “You okay?”
She shuddered under his direct regard, but lifted her chin and answered smoothly. “Of course.”
His dark gaze ran over her, checking her out for himself. He nodded. “Let’s go.”
“My car is at the bar.” Jaden managed to slur and whine at the same time. Not an easy feat.
“And you can thank your lucky ass for that. If I ever hear of you driving drunk, I’ll make sure your butt rides the bench for the whole season.”
“No, huh,” Jaden blustered. “You don’t have that kind of say-so.”
“No.” Max’s smile held an edge of malice. “But you can’t play with your leg in a cast.”
Jaden paled. “Don’t be joking, man. A break can end a career.”
“And driving drunk can end a life. I have no problem making that decision for you.”
“Gentlemen.” Elle stepped forward, intent on taking control of the situation. “It’s three-fifteen in the morning. Can you put the equipment away so we can go home? One of us has to work in a few hours.”
Max waved his arm in an after-you gesture. “Lead the way. You don’t mind giving us a ride, right?”
“I’m
