Smoke Signals

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Smoke Signals Page 8

by Catherine Gayle


  “I could,” the bride’s father called out, and his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Time and again, Babs has proven himself to be just about the most perfect human alive. I don’t know why he puts up with me, but thank goodness he does. And thanks to Katie, maybe now he’s not quite as sheltered as before.” Razor winked at her. “We’re all working together to corrupt him, still—me, 501, Katie, and probably another dozen people in this room or more—but at least his parents can rest assured that there’s not a damn thing we can do about the dimples. He’s stuck with those, which means the rest of us are screwed.”

  Everyone laughed again, and he held up his glass. Once the crowd did the same, he said, “To Babs and Katie. May your days be filled with blushes, dimples, and more love than you can handle. I’ll do my best not to cut out on the next most important moment of your life.”

  He drank, and everyone followed suit. I took a sip from my own glass as he shook hands and hugged Babs while they slapped each other on the back. He kissed Katie on the cheek. Then he made his way back over to me.

  “Making speeches is not my thing,” he said, plopping down in the chair next to me. He kissed my cheek, much as he’d just done to Katie’s. I bit down on my tongue as a reminder not to react. Because he was acting like more than just my husband…he was acting like a man in love, when we both knew that wasn’t possible.

  “Better you than me,” Hunter replied.

  “You would’ve done just fine,” Tallie said to him, patting the back of his hand.

  “Nope. You’re not going to find me anywhere near something like that.” He waved toward the area where Razor had just been. “I think we all know by now, mics and I don’t get along. That’s how you and I ended up together, you might recall.”

  “Which worked out perfectly.” Tallie grinned at me. “You’d do it for your brother when the time comes, wouldn’t you?”

  “Hmm,” was his only response.

  “Listen,” Razor cut in before they could get going again. He reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together, making my stomach churn with nerves. “You two are headed back to Tulsa after this, aren’t you?”

  Hunter nodded. “Tallie wants to be near her father when the baby comes. Plus, Kade is still there. It makes sense.”

  Maybe it made sense to them, but not to me.

  Razor made a grunting sound. “I think that’s where we’re going, too.”

  “You’re not going back to Toronto? I thought you wanted to spend some more time with your mom or something.”

  My stomach nearly revolted at the mention of Toronto, and prickles of terror raced up my spine. I couldn’t go to Toronto. Why hadn’t Razor mentioned that his mother lived there? Or that he had a reason to want to go there?

  He looked at me briefly before turning his attention to Tallie. “Plans changed. Anyway, I wondered if maybe you could help Tori get settled. If you’re up to it, that is.”

  “If I’m up to it?” she practically gushed. “I am dying to find something cute, even if I can’t wear it. Everything that fits me right now looks like a boat.” She took my other hand, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “But we can fix you right up. Let’s go shopping.”

  I met Razor’s gaze, panic rising inside me like bile. He squeezed my hand and nodded, a tiny movement of his head that I doubted anyone else noticed. Then I swallowed and faced Tallie.

  “We can shop.” The one good thing that came to mind about the situation was, at least I shouldn’t have to say much. She did more than enough talking for the both of us.

  THE FIRST COUPLE of days in Tulsa, it was just me and Tori. Hunter and Tallie had decided to spend a few days in Vegas before flying back, apparently so Tallie could visit every drive-thru chapel she could find to watch people get married. Even without the two of them, there were a few other people involved with the team around—the general manager and some of his staff and, of course, the team’s owners, Mr. and Mrs. Jernigan. Frankly, I wasn’t ready to deal with Mrs. J yet in terms of letting her know I’d married a porn star, so I decided a low profile was best, as well as keeping Tori well away from Tulsa Thunderbirds headquarters.

  Tom Jernigan was the minister of a massive church—one of those that had outgrown their arena-sized building and now had their services aired on national television. He’d decided to invest some of his enormous fortune in bringing a hockey team to Tulsa.

  I still hadn’t figured out his reasoning, but last year had been the Tulsa Thunderbirds’ inaugural season. I’d been claimed in the expansion draft that took place. As a team, we were awful, and I didn’t expect much to have changed about that for this coming season. Historically speaking, expansion teams needed at least a decade or more before they found their footing within the National Hockey League. It hadn’t taken me long to come to terms with the fact that, for however long I was a member of the T-Birds, I couldn’t expect us to do much. Maybe before the end of my career, I’d get a chance to play for a team with a realistic expectation to win the Cup. That was my hope. In the meanwhile, I was playing the part of the good soldier: keep my head down and do my job, and try not to let the constant losing get to me. Easier said than done.

  Anyway, I didn’t mind Mr. J so much, but his wife, Sharon, was a real piece of work. She’d made it her mission last season to act as a room mother or some shit in our locker room. She’d instituted a swear jar and was always hovering, trying to make sure all the guys were on our best behavior, since we were now somehow representatives of their church. Or something like that. I didn’t expect to ever understand it. My job was to play hockey, not preach to lost souls. And hockey players tended to swear a lot. I was ninety-nine point nine percent positive it was built into our DNA.

  Anyway, the second she found out about Tori’s past, I knew one of two things would happen. Mrs. J would either proselytize in an effort to save Tori’s sinful soul or she’d have such a conniption fit about being forced to be associated with such a loose woman that she might have a heart attack. Neither of which was what Tori needed right now. I wasn’t entirely sure what she did need, but it wasn’t that.

  So Tori and I spent those days hanging around my house, for the most part. I wanted to try to get her comfortable with me and see if she could relax. I kept a guest room ready for my mom, in case she got the chance to come down for a visit, so I offered that to Tori. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to push myself on her, and until we got to the bottom of whatever was going on with her physically—because it damn well shouldn’t have hurt her that night—I didn’t think it was a good idea to take her to my bed.

  She’d been both confused and grateful to have her own space, it seemed. Thank you for room. But don’t you want…? With the last part, she’d made some crude gestures with her hands that had more than done the job of getting her meaning across.

  I’d reassured her at least a dozen times over those first couple of days of our marriage that no, I didn’t expect her to suck me off or give me a hand job, and I had no intention of fucking her pussy or her ass simply because she was my wife. I needed her to want it—want me—and not offer herself up like a piece of meat just because she thought it was expected.

  She’d been sleeping in that guest room every night, but she wasn’t shying away from my casual touches quite so much anymore. If I came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder when she wasn’t expecting it, she still jumped. I made it a point to make my presence known, and that seemed to help. Tori wasn’t making any effort to touch me, though. Not unless it was something sexual.

  With any other woman in my life, I would have been fine with jumping straight to sex and forgetting all about the hand-holding, cuddling, and shoulder rubbing. But Tori was different.

  After about a day, she’d finally let go of her purse and left it in the bedroom while she was in another room. I hoped it was a sign that she was starting to trust me more. I knew we were making progress. The fact was, she’d opened up to me about her parents and
the Mafia without all that much prodding on my part. I got the sense that there were cracks in her dam, and a flood was on its way. There was just no way of knowing exactly when the final chink would happen or how I would stop the influx from drowning us both when it came. Something I'd have to figure out when it happened, I supposed.

  I’d been telling her as much as I could think of about myself—stories of growing up playing hockey, filling her in on the relationship I had with Babs and Katie so she would understand that part of my life better, telling her about some of my teammates here in Tulsa so she would have a clue what that part of my life would be like once the season started up—but she hadn’t yet decided to tell me much about herself. The only thing I could get her to talk about with regularity was ballet. In fact, she lit up when the topic turned to dance. Soon, I intended to look into what dance schools and companies were around. If I could get her involved in something, I had no doubt it would help her feel more comfortable here.

  Today, Tallie and Hunter were supposed to be back, and Tallie was planning to pick up Tori so they could go shopping. Tori was in the shower, getting ready, so it was as good a time as any to call my agent, Greg. He was a lawyer, so I thought he would be a good place to start with getting Tori a green card now that she was my wife.

  “I’m not an immigration lawyer,” was his initial, grumbling response.

  “No, but you work with teams to handle immigration issues all the time for your clients,” I reminded him.

  He represented Swedes, Finns, a German, more Canadians and Americans than I could count, and at least a few Russians, and we all had to be cleared for working in the US and Canada. Any time there was a trade or some guy signed with a new team, the visas and whatnot had to be pushed through ASAP. He took part in all of that, as well as arranging for whatever documentation a guy’s wife and children might need in order to be with him. There was no reason he couldn’t help me out with Tori’s situation. At least not the way I saw it.

  “Your situation is different,” he said. “She was in the US on a student visa. She’s lost that, so legally, she has to return to her home count—”

  “She’s not going back to Russia,” I cut in. No chance in hell was I letting that happen.

  “It’s not me who’s going to make her go back. I’m just trying to tell—”

  “I know perfectly well what you’re trying to tell me. I’m telling you that it’s not going to happen. Period.”

  He let out a beleaguered sigh. “Razor, I’m trying to help you out here, but with the little I know about immigration law, it doesn’t look good.”

  “But she married me. I’m a dual-citizen. That should be all it takes to get a green card.”

  “But it looks like she married you just to get a green card. This happened too fast.”

  It looked that way because that was the truth. “And that’s a problem?” I asked warily.

  “It’s a big problem.”

  “How big?”

  “I need to talk to some people to find out for sure. But it’s big. Really big. That’s one of the few requirements I actually know off the top of my head.”

  “Shit.”

  “Shit doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  I drummed my fingers on my knee. Every cell in my body was bursting to punch something, but that wouldn’t help a fucking thing. I couldn’t just sit still, though. Before I went crazy, I got up and paced to the kitchen. “So now what? What do I do?”

  “For the time being, sit tight. Be sure she doesn’t run. Let me see what I can sort out.”

  “You’ve got to fix this, Greg.” I didn’t even attempt to hide the hint of panic in my voice. “You’ve got to find a way to make this work out. Because she’s not going back to Russia. Not now. Not ever.”

  “Got it. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “That’s not fucking good enough—seeing what you can do.”

  “It’s going to have to be enough for now. I’m not a damn magician. I can’t change the law. All I can do is advise you on it.”

  “I know.” I dragged a hand down my face. I did know. But now everything I had promised Tori about her future was in question, and I was feeling like a complete and total failure, all because I’d been impetuous. Not anything new for me. I had always tended to act before I thought, but this was different. This was bigger and a thousand times more important. I didn’t care what I had to do to keep my promises to her, but I would keep them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this all on you,” I finally said. “I just need for this to all work out. Whatever we have to do, we can’t let them send her back to Russia.”

  “I know you’re sorry. Let me go see what I can find out. I’ll call you back by the end of the week with an update. In the meantime, you two need to be sure you’re acting like a happily married couple in every way possible. Everyone you know has to believe you’re in love with each other. In other cases like this…”

  “What?” I demanded. “Tell me.”

  “They could interview everyone you know. You’ve got to be incredibly convincing. Both of you. If you can’t convince the people in your lives that you married her because you love her, and vice versa, it won’t look good.”

  Fucking hell. I hung up the phone and tossed it on the countertop. Still itching to hit something, I pounded my fists on the refrigerator door and spun around to bang my head back against it.

  Then I saw her. Wide eyed. Lips parted. Ready to bolt.

  Tori had on one of my Thunderbirds T-shirts, long legs stretching out from the hem that ended mid-thigh, and her dark hair was still sleek and wet from the shower. She held a towel in one hand, clutching it to her chest as she had so often clung to her purse.

  “You said I’d get green card. You said marry you, and I won’t go back to Russia.” The fear and pain in her voice was going to kill me.

  “Tori—”

  “No. You said—”

  “I know what I said.” Fuck, I just wanted to reach for her, wrap her up in my arms, and hold her until she listened. That wasn’t an option. Not with Tori. The instant she sensed I wanted to touch her, she would retreat. I was going to have to do this with words—not good, since words tended to land me in trouble. “I’ve got my agent working on it. He’s going to figure it out.”

  “They want me go to Russia. Don’t they? No more visa. Now no green card. Have to go back.” Tears filled her eyes, on the verge of spilling over. She took a step back even though I hadn’t made a move toward her. “Marrying you, it’s not enough. Is it?”

  I didn’t know what to say, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to lie to her. “There might be some problems I didn’t know about. My agent is looking into it.”

  “What problems?”

  “Apparently, you can’t marry for the sole purpose of obtaining a green card.”

  “What… What does it mean?”

  I shook my head, letting out a sigh. “I wish I knew.”

  The doorbell rang. Bad timing. Really fucking bad timing.

  “That’s probably Tallie,” I said, my jaw grinding over the words. “You should go put some clothes on. She’s probably going to run you ragged with shopping.”

  The tears finally won out, racing down her cheeks. “But…”

  I smiled, trying to ease her worries, even though I knew it wasn’t close to enough. “Go on. There’s nothing we can do until my agent calls me back, anyway. No point in changing our plans or acting like anything’s wrong. For all we know, we’ll be able to make this all work out the way we initially planned.”

  Tori pursed her lips and dried her tears with the towel. I pushed away from the fridge and headed for the door. Before I opened it, I turned to see Tori scurrying down the hall. Too bad I couldn’t tell from her body language if she was hurrying away to get dressed, like I’d suggested, or if she just wanted to hide.

  After she was gone, I realized I should have filled her in about the potential for immigration officials to question people in our lives, so w
e were going to have to put on a hell of a show around everyone we came into contact with. That had to start now. It had to start with convincing Tallie. I needed to get that across to her before she left, but without letting Tallie in on the ruse.

  Tori and I might both be speaking English, but I felt as if we were constantly on different pages. I’d give my left nut to really understand her. Something told me I might have to do it, too.

  I WAS STILL trying to tug my skirt down, subconsciously glancing at Tallie to gauge her reaction to my clothes, when Razor drew me into his arms and kissed me in a way that stole my breath. It was sweet and tender, his lips gliding softly over mine. My knees almost buckled beneath me, and I had to cling to his shirt to prevent myself from going down.

  What game was he playing? I’d just found out that everything he’d told me about being safe after we married was a lie—whether intentional or not—and now he wanted to kiss me like no man had ever done before? I allowed his sensual assault, because even if I couldn’t get a green card through marrying him, he was at least buying me some time before deportation. And frankly, I owed him for that in a big way, and the only means I had of returning the favor was through the use of my body. He hadn’t tried to get me to pay up since we’d come back from Las Vegas. In fact, he’d rejected all my efforts to level things out between us. Until now. Maybe now, we could begin to even the score.

 

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