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~ Tales of Romance ~
Whispered Promises
Chapter 9
"Daddy's going to kill him," Dani predicted direly, shaking her head in misery and sending her mother a helpless look.
"No he's not," she contradicted her daughter, with an easy smile. "Your father never kills anyone between the hours of three and six-thirty in the morning! Lucky for you, you just made it," she stated with an arched brow.
"I can't believe this is happening," Dani moaned softly, her elbows propped up on the kitchen table, her forehead in her hands.
"Trust me, it's happening," Jordan answered calmly, humming to herself as she set a kettle of water, for tea, on the stove to boil. "And if you don't believe me, you can ask your father."
The muffled groan that came from Dani had Jordan smiling as she pulled tea cups from the cabinet and placed them on the table; plopping tea bags jauntily into each of the three cups.
Dani peeked at her mother, and frowned at her nonchalant behavior. "You know, I told Daddy I'd take Matt back to get his motorcycle? He could have gone back to bed."
Jordan's smile was serene, but her look said she was crazy if she'd even thought that scenario a remote possibility. "That was very kind of you to offer. But considering the late hour, the fact the gas can was empty and they were going to have to find a gas station to even get some gas, your father thought it was a better idea that he be the one running Matt back to his bike."
"Terrific," Dani mumbled, dropping her hands to the table with a defeated thud, and sending her mother a searching look. "Just how mad was Daddy?"
Jordan scooped the kettle off the stove, and carried it to the table, carefully pouring steaming water into two of the three cups, and then returned it to the burner. "Well, if you caught your daughter, in a moonlit garden, her body wrapped around a handsome man, who just happened to have his hands on her bottom, in a less than platonic manner, how exactly would you feel?"
Dani dunked her tea bag up and down, gave her mother a chagrined look, and mumbled, "Would you believe me if I told you it wasn't like it looked?"
"In all likelihood. But I don't think your father will be as easy a sell," Jordan stated truthfully, remembering the murderous look Aleksei had worn when he had come back into the house, herding Dani and Matt in front of him.
"This night has just gone from bad to worse," Dani murmured tiredly, taking a sip of tea and sighing. "First Hunter, now Matt and Daddy&ldots;"
"Hunter called?" Jordan asked in interruption.
At Dani's affirmative nod, a frown creased Jordan's smooth forehead and she asked about the call.
"I really don't want to think about it, Mom. It upset me so much the first time, I don't think I have the energy to deal with it again right now."
Jordan simply nodded in agreement, a pensive look on her face.
For several moments, the two women sat sipping tea, silent with their own thoughts, each wondering where the next day would lead them.
* * * * *
The grandfather clock in the foyer was just chiming the hour of five o'clock when Aleksei strode through the door that lead from the garage into the kitchen and settled tiredly into his seat at the head of the table. Taking a grateful sip of the warm tea his wife nudged toward him, he sent her gentle smile.
"I take it you shuffled Dani off to bed?"
"Considering Dani believed the possibility existed you might come in covered with Matt's blood, I thought it best," Jordan teased her husband, chuckling as he rolled his eyes in exasperation, and yawned.
"Don't think I didn't think about it," Aleksei mumbled, sending her a sideways glance.
"But&ldots;" Jordan urged with an expectant look.
"It was too late - or early - and required more energy than I cared to expend at the time," he stated flatly.
Aleksei sat sipping the warm tea for several seconds, while his thoughts swirled madly and left him more confused than he had been to begin with. The silent conversation he held with himself had his wife sitting patiently beside him, sipping her own tea, and giving him her undivided attention when he heaved a sigh and looked at her.
"Well?" she asked quietly, tilting her head and looking into her husband's dark eyes, unable to resist, she ran one finger along his beard- roughened jaw.
Aleksei's broad shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "They really ran out of gas," he answered simply, taking another sip of tea.
"And?"
"He had his hands on her ass because he happened to catch her that way after he pulled her off the wall. I honestly don't think it was a planned motive on his part," Aleksei growled, a hint of disgust tingeing his words.
Jordan blinked in surprise. "You sound as if you're upset he hadn't planned to be grabbing our daughter's bottom."
"Well if he'd planned to be mauling her, it would be much easier to not like him," Aleksei complained.
Jordan's head shook in confusion. "You're upset because you can't not like him?"
Again, Aleksei's shoulders bumped up and down in a small shrug.
"Aleksei, forgive me if I seem obtuse, but let me see if I've got this right. From what we have seen, Matt is honest, his intentions toward Dani, thus far, and to the best of our knowledge, have been honorable, and he even gallantly tried to keep her from killing herself, even though it was his fault she almost did so in the first place," Jordan counted off on her fingers.
Aleksei agreed begrudgingly. "You got it!" he grumbled, "And to make matters worse, he's nice," he added as an afterthought, with a growl and a frown, his expression looking as if he'd tasted something horrible and couldn't get rid of the taste.
"He's nice," Jordan repeated, completely baffled at her husband's reaction.
"And too damn likable!"
Jordan leaned back in her chair and looked at her husband, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He was just so cute when he was baffled, and unsure of a situation, particular those that affected his baby girl. Thankfully, they didn't happen very often! "I'm sure things will look much better in the morning," Jordan answered hopefully.
"It's already morning," Aleksei complained, looking at the clock and squinting to see the blurred numbers.
"Come on, my love, let's get you back to bed and see if we can't sneak in another hour of sleep," Jordan suggested, reaching for his hand and tugging him gently to his feet.
Looping a casual arm over his wife's shoulders, he leaned his head against the top of hers, breathing in the smell of gardenias that always surrounded her. "Is it right to like someone you find with their hands on your daughter's butt?" Aleksei asked in confused humor.
"Well, it's certainly not the average way to meet someone's parents. But then when has anyone in this family ever done anything in an average manner?" Jordan tossed back.
"Point well taken!" Aleksei answered with a sardonic look, ushering his wife up the stairs, a step behind her, his gaze on her shapely rear end, a wolfish smile lighting his face.
He might be tired, but he wasn't dead!
* * * * *
No sooner had Matt finally settled into bed and laid his head on his pillow, than his alarm was sounding, a musical number with far too much energy resounding through his room; the offensive red numbers displaying five thirty. With a groan, and the solid thud of his hand hitting the off button, he pulled his pillow over his head and tried to ignore the fact his brain seemed to have kicked into overdrive. His body might have been exhausted, but his brain obviously wasn't and was doing its best to drive him crazy by flashing images of Dani, and the evening before, through his head. And before he knew it, his body had forgotten its exhaustion and was humming with a will of its own, filled with a power and energy that had nothing to do with skating.
A muffled curse sounded deep within the pillow, and Matt gave up any illusions of sleeping. With a scowl, he headed for the shower, cursing his mind and his body for their traitorous actions. Looping his thumbs in his waistband, he let his boxers slide to the floor, and stepped beneath the cool spray of the shower, hoping the water would give him some modicum of control over himself and if he was really lucky, let him survive the day.
One could always hope!
* * * * *
An hour later, Matt pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of the ice rink and blinked his eyes in surprise to see Dani's Jeep parked sweet-as-you-please in the first parking spot. A quick glance at his watch told him he wasn't more than a couple of minutes behind schedule, but that, added to the ten minutes from the day before, was more than enough ammunition to give his teammates. With a low curse, he grabbed his gear and headed toward the building, knowing his day was going to be filled with off-color comments, sly looks, and innuendoes; none of which he was in the mood for.
As soon as he pushed through the double doors, he was bombarded with enough noise to rival a Stanley Cup Championship. A quick look showed him an empty lobby, unheard of even at this ungodly hour, and with a frown of confusion, he followed the noise, flinching as another loud roar echoed through the building.
Matt pushed through the final set of doors that lead to the ice rink the hockey team practiced on, only to find Dani, surrounded by his teammates, embroiled in a heated game of hockey. The stands filled with a crowd made up of early-morning practicers.
"He's coming 'round your left, Dani, heads-up!" one of the players called across the ice, a smile spreading across his face, as he watched her go from forward to backwards so quickly it almost made him dizzy.
"I'm not blind; I see him!" she yelled back, hot on the heels of the player trying to sneak around her with the puck. "Not today, bub!" she growled dangerously, reaching out with her stick and tripping him, the crowd groaning in pain as they watched him fall to the ice with a solid thud. Their groans became cheers as they watched her steal away the puck and dash off in the opposite direction.
Matt shook his head in disbelief. If someone had told him he'd be watching Danielle Rocmanov playing hockey this morning he would have told them they had obviously been breathing something other than oxygen. And yet, here she was, flying over the ice at a breakneck speed, undaunted by the fact all of these men outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds, and tipping them over as if they were sleeping cows.
"Foul!" the downed skater yelled, sliding to a stop next to the boards. "Illegal tripping," he complained to his teammate acting as a referee.
"Didn't see it. Resume play!" he countered, ignoring the hand gesture that clearly stated he heatedly disagreed.
"Are you fuckin' blind?" the angered player raged.
"Heh, watch the language, Ron; there's a lady present!" the referee warned, motioning him back into play.
"Lady, my ass&ldots;" the player mumbled to himself, and grudgingly returned to the game, his eyes narrowing as he pondered ways to exact a little revenge and restore a bit of his pride.
The cheering increased as Dani sped down the ice, handling the hockey puck as if she did it on an everyday basis. A quick jig to the left and she was around an opposing skater, a skidding slide to the right had her zipping by another one, all the while, her puck safely tucked against her stick.
"Go Dani!" someone in the crowd screamed as she neared the goal, waiting for her chance to sneak the puck past the goalie.
"Not today, little girl," the goalie taunted her, watching the puck as she slide it lightly from side to side, waiting for the smallest sign she was ready to let it fly.
Matt watched as the opposing team's players rushed toward Dani, Ron leading the charge, a murderous expression on his face. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out what had started out as a light-hearted game of hockey, with a girl on the ice, had turned into something else. When a man's pride was at stake, all bets were off, and it was every man - or woman - for themself. Now, as Matt watched Ron charging straight for Dani, and oblivious of his less than chivalrous intent, he could only yell, "Heads up, Dani!"
Time slowed to a crawl, and motion moved one frame at a time, like a slide show gone awry. Dani looked over her shoulder at Matt's warning, her eyes widening as she watched the wall of muscle descending upon her. Gritting her teeth, she hauled back her hockey stick, sent it crashing toward the puck with a mighty roar and watched as it hurled toward the net, and the goalie.
Just before Ron crashed into her, and sent her hurling toward the ice, the crowd screamed in excitement as her shot zipped past the goalie and tangled in the net behind him. The cheers changed to boos as the crowd had watched Ron knock Dani to the ice, and grew even louder with disapproval when Dani lifted her head, to see if she'd made her goal, and seemed oblivious of the blood that trickled from her split lip and dripped onto the pristine white of the ice.
The referee's whistle blew. "Penalty! Late hit!" The referee called, pointing to Ron. "Two minutes in the box," he charged the player, ignoring the dispute Ron was trying to make, while all around him, the crowd booed.
The doors opened and closed behind Matt, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw another group of people walk in, in all likelihood drawn by the commotion from the ice rink. A nonchalant glance over his shoulder had his eyes meeting those of Aleksei, his expression unreadable.
"Shit!" Matt mumbled under his breath, wondering what he could have been thinking when he'd thought his day would have to get better.
A scream of rage on the ice had his eyes returning to the hockey game, and in astonishment, he watched as Dani dabbed her split lip against her forearm, seemed to grow angrier and headed off toward Ron who was meandering toward the penalty box.
"You'd better go get her," Aleksei's deep voice rumbled from beside Matt, his tone filled with humor.
Matt blinked in surprise and turned to look at Aleksei.
"You want to keep your teammate alive long enough to participate in the Olympics, I would suggest you go get her before she does something that keeps that from happening." Aleksei suggested again.
Matt knew he was tired, but the idea that he was hearing this just wasn't making sense. Looking at the ice, and watching as Dani slowly stalked Ron, outweighed by at least a hundred pounds and a good foot, if not more, shorter, he couldn't imagine what Ron would have to worry about where Dani was concerned.
"Hey, shithead!" Dani called in a dangerously low voice, her eyes filled with fire. "I'd already taken my shot, you didn't need to do that!"
"You didn't need to trip me either, but that didn't stop you from doing it earlier," Ron tossed back, turning to face her, looming over her, a dark scowl on his face.
"That was a legitimate steal, I didn't take a cheap shot!" Dani countered hotly.
"Yeah, right," Ron snorted in disgust, look down his nose at her. "Little girl, you wouldn't know a cheap shot if it hit you in the ass!" he growled condescendingly.
Matt was only a few feet away from the antagonists, when he heard Ron's comment and shook his head back and forth. If Dani's body language said anything, her spread feet, lowered head, and clenching and unclenching fists at her side, boded ill for Ron; who apparently was either too stupid, or unwilling to believe he was really facing any harm.
"Well, Mr. Macho Hockey Player, this little girl's going to give you a lesson in what constitutes a cheap shot," Dani stated in a chillingly low voice. In a split second, she'd moved forward, rammed her knee into Ron's unprotected crotch and watched as the giant gasped in pain, turned beet red and collapsed to the ice, his knees clenched together.
Bending over, she smiled sweetly and murmured, "Now that, Ron, was a cheap shot!"
"You bitch!" he hissed breathlessly, flashing lights dancing before his vision, waves of pain and rage mingling.
"What did you call me?" Dani screamed, moving toward him again, only to find herself grabbed around the waist, lifted off the ice, and draped over Matt's shoulder.
"That's enough, Rambo. He's down, you don't need to give him an extra kick just for the hell of it!" Matt stated with humor, and sent a glance toward the other players who stood huddled in a silent group on the ice, unsure of what to do. "You've got fifteen minutes to get a cup of coffee, get Ron back on his feet and breathing normally, and be ready to resume practice. Anyone not ready, gets to start their practice a littler earlier tomorrow and skate a few extra drills before everyone else does," he ordered firmly, and watched as everyone, but Mike, the acting referee, headed for the snack bar.
Matt, with Dani still nonchalantly draped over his shoulder, headed across the ice, and toward the exit door, now standing open. As they passed Mike, he gave her a light smack on her bottom, smiled at her gasp of surprise, and offered, "Nice shot," before giving her a final lopsided smile and headed off to see if Ron was still alive where he lay curled on the ice.
In stunned silence, Dani, with her hands propped against Matt's back, watched Mike skate away from her, whistling a jaunty tune. She couldn't decide whether to be embarrassed, honored to just plain confused. She'd brought down one of his teammates, in a less than ladylike manner, and all he could say was 'Nice shot'? What was it with men? Obviously, that old caveman gene was still alive and well in the twenty-first century!
"Explain what just happened there?" Dani asked.
"You scored a goal. Your team won," Matt offered casually, stepping off the ice and cautiously sliding her to her feet, doing his best to ignore the warm rush of heat that raced through him as their bodies glided along each other's. Holding her head in his hands, he pulled a hanky for pocket, dabbed carefully at the still-seeping cut on her lip and frowned. "How's the lip?" Matt asked softly.
Dani swatted at his hands, turning her head to escape his gentle touch, fighting the urge to give in to his caring ministrations. "My lip's fine; just a little puffy," she mumbled, flinching when it bumped against her upper teeth.
"Yeah, it looks fine all right," Matt said sardonically, grabbing her face once again, and taking a closer look at the swelling cut. "If you're into bruised, battered, and bloody. Come on, Darlin', let's go find you some ice," he murmured, grabbing her hand and pulling her along, headed off in the direction of one of the meeting rooms, away from prying eyes.
"I really don't need any ice; this is hardly the first time I've ever split my lip open," Dani complained, trailing along a step behind him.
"Too bad; you're going to ice that lip down, even if I have to sit on you to do!" Matt tossed over his shoulder, his gaze falling on the Rocmanov family who suddenly appeared before them. Dani, behind Matt, didn't see them and found herself bumping into his back, oblivious of the wall of family standing in front of them.
"What are you trying to do, Matt, add a broken nose to my list of injuries today? Tell me when you're going to come a screeching halt next time, for heaven's sake!" she complained.
"Hush," Matt demanded softly.
Curious at his suddenly cool behavior, Dani peeked around Matt's wide shoulder to see why they'd stopped so abruptly, and found herself looking into the faces of her family. "Hi, Daddy," she murmured, sending him a little smile that had her flinching when her split lip pulled.
"What did I tell you about playing hockey?" Aleksei asked quietly, sending a dark look toward Matt, who looked like he'd like nothing better than to be swallowed up by the earth. First the debacle of last night and now this? What else could go wrong?
Dani looked chagrined and picked at her blood-covered sleeve. "Daddy, this really isn't the time to go into this," she mumbled, sending him a pleading look.
"Answer your father," her mother stated, reached into her skating bag and pulled out an insta-ice pack. With a solid whack, she set the chemical ice to cooling and handed it to her daughter.
"Thanks," Dani murmured, cautiously dabbing the ice pack at her swollen lip.
"Well?" Aleksei asked again, lifting his chin and looking down his straight nose at her.
"This is ridiculous," Dani mumbled from behind her ice pack, her lip already starting to feel numb. "If I must play hockey, do it in the proper gear!" She recited, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
Aleksei reached over and gave her cheek a light tweak, his smile widening as he watched her blush a becoming shade of rose. "That's right! And if you'd had your helmet on, you wouldn't be sporting a lip that looks like it belongs on Mick Jagger!"
"Dad&ldots;" Dani whined, scrunched up her nose at him and sent a dark scowl his way.
"Don't 'Dad' me, you knew better than to do what you did, and yet you did it anyway. It's my job to remind you of your stupidity! It's one of the more enjoyable aspects of being a parent; pointing out to your children when they've been exceptionally dumb," he stated with a low laugh, pressed a quick kiss against one rosy cheek and directed his gaze to Matt. "You'll see she keeps ice on that lip to keep the swelling to a minimum?"
"Yes, sir!" Matt managed to mumble, unable to believe that was it. He'd been fully prepared to face the wrath of Aleksei Rocmanov for the injury to his daughter, yet all he'd done was voice a simple request. And it was exactly what Matt had planned to do anyway. He was beginning to think he'd stumbled into Alice's White Rabbit's bunny hole and everything was topsy-turvy.
In silent astonishment, Matt watched the group of Rocmanov's saunter away, off toward the West Rink, a final 'You keep beating up all the boys, no one's going to want to play with you!" Sergei taunted with a laugh as deep as his father's. His laugh grew louder as he watched his sister send him a less than ladylike gesture.
"Dani!" Matt growled, shaking his head in disbelief and pulling her toward the bleachers, away from the crowd that still seemed overly interested in what was going on with the two. "Are you trying to get your father to kill me?"
"Why would my father kill you because I flipped my brother off?"
"He probably thinks it's my bad influence on you that has you acting so&ldots;" Matt struggled to find an appropriate word.
"Outrageous!" Dani offered dramatically. "I've got news for you, hockey slug, I was outrageous before I met you! Nice of you to offer to take responsibility for my behavior, but that's Daddy's honor."
Matt's look was filled with skepticism.
"Ask my Mother. She's always the first to blame my behavior on Daddy; says 'we're two peas in a pod'." Dani offered smugly.
Matt took the ice pack from Dani's hand, and gently rested it against her lip. "If I wasn't so tired, that thought would probably scare me to death, and send me running in the opposite direction," he sighed, rubbing his blood-shot eyes with his free hand.
"Daddy scares you?" Dani asked quietly, from behind the ice bag.
"All the Rocmanov's scare me; your father just holds the top wrung on the ladder, followed closely by your brother."
"Sergei's a cupcake."
Matt blinked in astonishment; his gaze going from baffled, to confused to filled with disbelief. "Your brother's gay?" he whispered.
Dani's bright laugh echoed in the cool air. "For God's sake, no! My brother is no more gay than you are! And if you don't believe me, ask Chloe. They're getting married, you know?" Dani babbled.
"But you said&ldots;"
Dani heaved a sigh of exasperation. "I said he's a cupcake, because he's probably the least likely Rocmanov, if it came down to it, that would punch you in the nose. Sergei's the most peaceful of us all. Now Chloe; she's one you definitely don't want to mess with, especially if it concerns Sergei. Did you know she saved his life once?"
Matt was having difficulty keeping up with Dani's train of thought, and what this conversation all meant. She jumped from topic to topic like a frog with a fox on her butt, and in his present state, his brain seemed to be working at two speeds; sluggish and stopped. "No," he mumbled with a confused shake of his head.
"Well..." Dani began only to be interrupted as Matt's teammates returned to the ice, a slightly slow moving Ron in their ranks. Dani sighed wistfully and cast a glance toward the ice. "I guess it's time for you to get to work."
Work was the last thing Matt had on his mind; simply finding a soft bed, and holding Dani in his arms as he slept was the image that seemed to have been permanently imprinted in his mind. "Yeah. I should probably go see how much Ron's going to complain about his little injury, and use it as an excuse for his rotten practices," he stated, handing her the ice pack, and getting to his feet.
"I hope I didn't hurt him too much," Dani offered semi-contritely.
"It's nothing more than he deserved. Those who don't like to be fired upon shouldn't fire the first shot!" Matt offered with an easy shrug.
Dani nodded in agreement, her eyes pleading with him to stay just a minute more.
Matt looked at the ice, at his teammates milling about waiting for him. "I've got to go."
"Okay."
"I'll see you later?" Matt asked hopefully.
"We still have a date to skate," Dani reminded him softly.
Matt's eyes closed, a look of extreme pain crossed his face, and his knees buckled slightly. A low groan rumbled in his chest.
"Nice try. A deal's a deal!" Dani stated firmly, smiling despite the stinging in her lip.
"The things I do for love," he murmured softly, tiredly, missing the surprised look on Dani's face at his words.
"Yeah," Dani agreed breathlessly, her heart pounding in her chest, wondering if she had heard him correctly, afraid to ask.
"Can I get a rain check on our skate together."
"Of course. Just give me a call and let me know when can escape from your boys and experience the ice the way it's meant to be experienced; without blood!"
"What a concept!" he teased, and sent her a final heated glance. "See you later, Darlin'," he murmured sexily and slowly walked away, his walk that of a panther stalking it's prey.
"What a great butt!" Dani mumbled to herself, appreciating his retreating rear end encased in snug black jeans, and pressing the ice pack against her lip, as she listened to him gather his teammates and restart practice.
"Let's see if we can't do a little better with our scrimmage this time, shall we? I don't hold out much hope against the Canadians if a ninety-five pound girl can kick your asses!" he shouted, his deep voice echoing off the high ceilings.
And the practice was on!*
Copyright © 2001-2002 C.E. Moynihan
*All Rights Reserved