Page 111 of Break the Ice
“He’s already about to crack,” Gomez adds, grinning. “I’ve got him thinking he’s suspect number one. He’s about to wash his entire hands of the league and get out of dodge.”
“Yes, Gomez has been very effective with Beringer. The hours long interrogations. The implications he was fighting with Hawk already. Beringer didn’t like Hawk’s shady methods and was confronting him about it that same night. Isn’t that right, darling?” Dad grins over at Marisse. “You told Detective Gomez all about what you overheard. You were hoping it’d throw the police off your trail, but you didn’t realize all you were doing was helping us.”
Marisse glares at him, the venomous look communicating as much hate as words ever could.
Dad’s grin widens, then he turns back to me. “I’m telling you, son. I’ve done all of this for you. On every level, I’ve made sure we’ve crossed our t’s and dotted our i’s.”
“So now what?”
“I already told you. She takes the fall,” Dad says, jutting his chin at Marisse. “It’s the perfect setup. His latest dingbat hire in a tight skirt. If it wasn’t Jerry, it would’ve been Margot or Zonique or any of the others he hired and fucked. It’s just Marisse’s luck it was her.”
“You’ll never pin this on me!” Marisse spits.
“Sure I will. Gomez, take the girl upstairs. Stow her in one of the closets or something. We need her out of the way while we get rid of this,” Dad says, motioning his head at Jerry’s dead body. “But, first, I need to talk to my son one on one. Make sure he understands the finer family details.”
Gomez does as he’s told, stepping over a vacant-eyed, pale Jerry and pulling Marisse to her feet by her arm. The two pass us by with me biting back every urge I have to flip out. But I do make sure to catch her attention as she’s pulled past me. The look I give her is certain, a promise that I won’t be separated from her for long.
Dad’s jubilant and triumphant watching them go, his smile wide. The sense of regret he’d displayed earlier has miraculously disappeared. Every movement of his exudes pride and arrogance.
He’s got it in the bag.
“This is almost over. The gritty, messy part of it,” he says. “Once Gomez disposes of Jerry and pins the murders on Marisse, the investigation will be closed, and she’ll be taken to trial. The whole thing will be done with in a few months. Then I’ll buy what was Hawk’s. The Wolves will be mine again. But for real this time. Not as a player. As the owner.”
“You really expect me to believe you didn’t kill Hawk? This isn’t some elaborate scheme of yours to make me go along with what you’ve done?”
“I’m really becoming concerned, son. I’m not mad about what you’ve done. I’ve helped you. But you have to fall in line. You have to let the girl go down. It could’ve been anyone. This time, it just so happened to be her. It seems you’ve gotten attached to this one but think of all the Ice Girls that would be happy to distract you. Whatever little romance you had going with her was nothing.”
“How did you know something was going on between us?”
“You haven’t been discreet. The rumors have been in the tabloids. You two disappeared to the locker room not long ago. The whole team knows… even if they haven’t said anything.”
“None of this makes sense. You’re fucking with my mind!”
He sighs. “You’re in shock from what you’ve done. Violent troublemaker you may be, but you’re not a killer… unless you have to be. It’s messed with your perception. Which is why I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”
“You’re not framing Marisse.”
“I’m afraid it’s already been decided. There’s no turning back.”
“No,” I say firmly, taking a step toward him. “You’re not listening. You’re not framing Marisse.”
Dad gives an exasperated laugh and shake of his head. “This is beyond your purview, Rafe. What did I tell you about focusing on what’s your lane—you are keeping the legacy alive. Your job is to be the best player in the league and cement the Golding name in the sport. That’s all I need you to do. But you refuse to listen and then wonder why Colt has always been my fav—ARGH!”
Dad screams as I grip the front of his flannel shirt and toss him to the ground. He flops across the floor before he even knows what’s happening.
This time I don’t hold back. My fist slams into his face. Blood squirts out his nostrils as my knuckles collide with his nose and the cartilage snaps from the blow. Dad roars out his pain as his puts his arms up to block me.
But he doesn’t stand a chance. He’s way past his prime, and I’m too damn skilled at physical confrontations. He’s easy work.
“Tell me you give up,” I growl, punching him again for good measure. To emphasize my point. “Tell me it’s fucking over and you won’t do it!”
Dad spits out blood. “Alright, alright! Just… just get your hands off me!”
My fist aches to hit him again. At least another blow to rattle his brain and make sure he understands. He peers up at me, blood gushing all over his face, his eyes full of pleading. I back off if only slightly, getting up off him, though my fist remains ready.
“Say it,” I command. “Say it’s over. Say this plot of yours is done.”
Dad flinches from the pain I’ve inflicted on him as he struggles to sit up. I stand back to give him room to rise unsteadily to his feet. Blood drips from his broken nose. His lip’s cut open, swelling to twice its size. His face will be even more fucked up as the bruises come in.
