Page 306 of Sin Bin

Logan stared into Hunter’s coldly enraged face and saw his life pass before his eyes. “I wasn’t—”

“How dare you disrespect your teammates like that!” Hunter roared, giving him a vicious shake. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Logan’s eyes darted nervously toward Reid and Viggo. They stood by the pickup like two muscle-bound henchmen with their arms folded across their chests, eyes narrowed menacingly as they glared at him.

“Give me your fucking keys,” Hunter snarled.

Logan balked. “Why—”

“Hand them over or so help me God I will gut you right here in this parking lot.”

Logan gulped hard, dug out his keys and sullenly handed them to Hunter.

After checking the stranger’s car to make sure there was no damage, Hunter grabbed Logan’s arm and steered him over to his Denali. Logan climbed into the passenger seat while Hunter slid behind the wheel and slammed the door hard enough to rock the truck.

Logan slanted him a wary look. Duchene could be absolutely terrifying when he was mad. “Where—”

“Shut up.” Hunter revved the engine and roared out of the parking lot. Reid and Viggo were close behind. Logan could feel their anger and frustration even from here. They couldn’t be any more frustrated with him than he was with himself.

Hunter jabbed a finger at him. “Stay away from her job, you hear me? Don’t let me find out you came back here to cause trouble for her.”

Logan slumped down in his seat. “I just wanted to talk—”

“Not here! Not like this!”

Logan mashed his lips together, staring out the window. “How’d you know where to find me?”

Hunter snorted. “Please.”

Logan frowned. “Where are we going?”

“To get some food in your stomach before you starve yourself to death.”

“I’m not hungry,” Logan mumbled.

“Too fucking bad. You’re gonna eat if we have to hold you down and shove a whole meal down your throat.”

Logan frowned. “Force-feeding is an illegal form of tor—”

“Shut the hell up.”

Logan put his head back against the headrest, swallowed hard and whispered miserably, “I fucked up, man.”

“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” Hunter shook his head, aggressively switching lanes. “You’ve been reckless and hotheaded during games. You’ve made some stunningly stupid decisions, on and off the ice. You’ve been late to practices and meetings. But you have never, ever outright shirked your responsibility. What you did today was basically tell the whole team to kiss your ass. And that won’t fly, son. Not on my watch.”

With his head still back against the headrest, Logan was too exhausted to do more than roll his eyes sideways to look at Hunter. “My shit is so fucked up right now. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

“I know, man,” Hunter said in a gentler tone. “I know you’re hurting like hell, and I know you’re still dealing with a shit ton of old baggage. But as your best friend and teammate, I can’t let you self-destruct like this. It’s unacceptable after everything you’ve overcome, and it’s not fair to our teammates who’ve busted their asses to get this far in the playoffs.” He hooked a sharp right turn. “You know I’ve made allowances for your behavior over the years. I went easy on you when you got ejected for arguing with the ref during the Boston game. I let it slide when you got suspended for fighting at that club. You were protecting your woman, and all of us would have done the same thing. But skipping practice and risking another suspension right before the conference final starts? Nah, bro. I can’t cut you any slack this time. Something’s gotta give. That’s why I made an appointment for you to see Sensei Tanaka this evening.”

“Your Zen master?” Logan growled in disbelief. “I don’t want—”

“Did I sound like I was asking your permission?” Hunter exploded. “I don’t give a shit what you want! You’re going, and that’s all there is to it!”

Logan clamped his mouth shut.

During a station break on the radio, a news alert announced to listeners: “Sources are reporting that Denver Rebels right winger Logan Brassard was a no-show at practice this morning. Team sources are confirming that Brassard will be fined, but no word yet on whether he’ll be scratched from tomorrow night’s opening game against the Golden Knights. The star winger is no stranger to controversy and disciplinary—”

Hunter punched off the radio and glared at Logan. “Do you have any idea how frustrating it was to be answering questions about your whereabouts the day before a playoff game?” His voice sliced at Logan like cold steel. “Don’t ever put me in that position again.”

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