Page 57 of Hat Trick

I think back to the moment when I realized I’d been balls deep in my slice of blueberry pie. With any other woman, no doubt I would have found myself getting the hell out of dodge as quickly aspossible.

With Gwen, I couldn’t help butlaugh.

And then promptly get her dirty,too.

I’d enjoyed the shower we’d taken together. The way she’d begged for me to take her against the shower wall, with her leg looped around my hips as I powered intoher.

My phone starts up again, and with a heavy sigh, I roll over to snatch it off the bedside table. If it’s Beaumont or Harrison calling to ask how the “banging” went, they’re about to become dead menwalking.

Voice rusty with sleep, I mutter, “Hunt.”

“Bro.”

Fuck me. Pushing the covers off, I cast a glance at Gwen sleeping peacefully in my bed. I’ve dreamt of this moment over and over again, and having Dave call me in the middle of the night is not how I envisioned it ending. Nope, I was totally hoping for another round before she left for work in the morning. Maybe some breakfast—pancakes, eggs, the whole nineyards.

With one hand, I grab my sweats off the floor and pull them up my legs. I don’t speak until I’ve shut the door behind me. “What do you want,Dave?”

“I’m in trouble, bro. Big fuckingtrouble.”

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Taking the stairs down to the kitchen, I flip the lights and sit my ass down on one of my stools. “How much money wetalkin’?”

“More than I’ve got handy,” he mutters. “I need you here, man. I need myfamily.”

I won’t lie, not even to myself. I want to believe my brother. I want to believe that he actually needs me for something more than a Benjamin Franklin whenever it suits him. Call it the little brother syndrome; hell if Iknow.

“It’s late,” I say instead because even if I want to feel needed, I don’t trust Dave. I haven’t trusted him in years. “I’ve got practice in the morning and if I show up looking like shit, that’s my ass on theline.”

I don’t mention the fact that if I bomb on the ice that means Dave’s money supplier could end up traded or, worse, jobless. I figure he can read betweenthe—

“You really going to put fuckinghockeyabove your own blood, bro?” I hear him spit, literally, just before he adds, “I knew I couldn’t rely on you. My own fucking flesh and blood. What’d they do to you in foster care, bro? Did they teach you to turn your back on the only person who’s watched out for you all theseyears?”

My hands ball into fists. I know where he’s going with this—it’s where he always goes. It’s the one thing he’s got over my head and he knowsit.

Feeling as though I might crack, I tip my face to the ceiling and count to five. Swallow down my helpless rage and then bite out, “Where areyou?”

“Brockton.”

I let out a merciless laugh. Of course. Because where else would my brother be than at an illegal fightingring?

“You want directions, bro?” Dave asks in a clear attempt to push me to the edge and watch me teeter to mydeath.

“Fuckyou.”

I hear his chuckle just before I hang up the phone. It’s time like these when I wish we still used old telephone receivers. The kind you could hang up with a semblance of violence. If I do that shit now, I’ll be shattering my screen and be even more pissed than I alreadyam.

I force myself to breathe, slowly allowing my curled fist to unfurl. The thought of driving to Brockton right now has me wanting to throw something. But as always, the guilt is there waiting, just waiting, for me to remember that without Dave I’m completelyalone.

Are you,though?

My focus drifts to Gwen. She may have a fucked-up mother, from what she told me earlier and from what I recall from her dad, but the truth of my existence would horrify her. Tempting as it is to climb those stairs and tell her everything, Dave isn’t her problem—he’s exclusively mine, and there’s not a chance in hell that I want him tainting her with hisnegativity.

I tap my phone against my leg, then push off the stool to yank open one of the kitchendrawers.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m on the highway heading south to Brockton. I left a note on top of Gwen’s phone, letting her know I’d hit the gym for my regular, early morning workout, and that our night together meant everything tome.

I’m banking on the fact she won’t see it until later in the morning so the note will ring true. Mentioning an emergency of any kind would invite questions, and that’s just not what I need right now. Gwen’s a whole lot better off without getting on Dave’s radar. I can only imagine what sort of shit he’d pull, and just the thought alone has my bloodboiling.

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