Free Fallen for Her by Ava Armstrong Page A

bad.  Although he spent more time in the penalty box than on the ice, he loved the camaraderie with the team. They were a family, sort of.  A tad dysfunctional, but he fit right in.
    He was a different sort of enforcer now. A law man, an attorney, and he enjoyed the cases although sometimes they could be as boring as watching paint dry. Today another lackluster case was tossed on his desk.  He opened the folder and sifted through the contents.  Another estate case, although this one looked fairly straightforward.  It was a trust set up in the deceased client’s daughter’s name, Ella Wakefield, daughter of John Wakefield.
    For a moment, he thought he recognized the name. Pawing through the contents of the folder he remembered. John Wakefield was a financial magnate, of sorts.  A common man who came from humble beginnings but made his mark on Wall Street in a big way. There were some notes about his daughter, Ella, but they were brief.  Ray pictured her to be a fat spoiled rich chick with a bad attitude. Then chastised himself for prejudging. He hated it when people did that, especially when it came to him. It was one of the reasons he kept his hockey injuries to himself. The minute anyone knew about his accident, they’d shower him with sympathy. Exactly what he didn’t want.
    What did he want? He had asked himself that question more than once lately.  He was now thirty-two and still unmarried, living in a one-room apartment in New York.  Hell, he wasn’t even with a steady girl.  His part-time job as a bartender served to educate him in the art of psychology and sometimes he thought he was studying abnormal human behavior.
    The depravity that went on in the bar scene kept him laughing but wasn’t something he really wanted to participate in, although he did. Tossing an unknown chick on his bed wasn’t his idea of a relationship, but it alleviated his loneliness even if for an hour. Whenever it happened, however, he felt embarrassed afterward and couldn’t get the woman out of his apartment fast enough. Vanessa was a regular in his bedroom. She was a waitress at the bar and he spent a lot of time watching her shapely ass walk by.  Without being obvious, he’d observed her walking out many a night with some handsome pretty-boy type. Her bleached blonde hair in a ponytail and gum chewing habit didn’t always appeal to him. But she flirted with him relentlessly and occasionally he’d give in.  Lately, Ray feared she was becoming too attached to him. He didn’t love her but he loved some of the things she did to him in his apartment.
    He was beginning to think that something inside of him had withered and died with his hockey aspirations. His life had become a ground-hog day existence without him being conscious of it. He walked past thousands of people every day walking to and from work or riding the subway.  No one made eye contact. There were no good mornings or have a nice day greetings…people just kept their heads down and walked straight ahead, or stepped over homeless people on the sidewalk.  Panhandlers constantly tried to pick your pocket and the faster you moved the better your day would be.  Anything he carried had to be slung across his chest and although illegal, he carried a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver on his person. It was his opinion that the police in New York City had become a little too politically correct.  With flash mob beatings taking place in plain sight, he wasn’t going to leave his life in their hands - that was for sure.
    “Adriano, hey, I’m talking to you.” His boss stuck his head inside his tiny office.
    “Yeah, what can I do for you,” Ray responded.
    “You are going up to Maine this weekend, here’s your train ticket.” Attorney Stephens informed him. “Enjoy the trip. It’ll do you some good to get out of this hell hole. We made a reservation for you at a bed and breakfast – yes, they have those up in Maine. The information is all there…”
    He left