Page 18 of Brutal Game

Bile, sour and burning, rose in my already aching throat. I wanted tokillJoshua Jensen, and Jack, too.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked. “Plant a confession in coach’s office that says ‘Yeah, I did it,’ signed Joshua Jensen?”

“Hardly.” This time it was my turn to snort. “I was looking for the videos.”

“Videos?”

“Your sick fuck of acoachrecorded every ‘session’ with my brother.” Just saying the words made me want to throw something. Ideally at Jack.

Jack glared at me like I was vile. “Mycoachsaved my goddamned life, Aviva. You don’t know—” he paused. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t fucking deserve to know. He’s agood guy whose only real fault is giving everything to his team and being too trusting. It bit him in the ass with your brother; I won’t let it happen to him again.”

“But the videos?—”

“There are no videos, unless your plan was to plant them.”

I glared. “Do I look like I’m hiding videos anywhere?”

Waving this off, he said, “My brother’s a computer genius. I know you can plant shit digitally.”

He grabbed my wrist, dragging me off the bench without much care. I grabbed my skirt, trying to pull it up my shaking legs, but Jack had no regard for my comfort. He tugged me forward, even though I had one leg in my skirt, one out. I tripped and would’ve fallen if he hadn’t caught me with hard, cruel arms. “That is, unless you were planning on planting some doctored ones. Asher’s a film major, right? Always thought that was weird, but it makes sense, now.”

“Do you hear yourself? You’re so desperate to keep your coach on his pedestal, you’ll convince yourself of anything.”

He laughed again, no humor in it. “I know when someone’s lying, Aviva. I learned at a young age that people lie as easily as they breathe. You might have a cute pair of tits and a tight little cunt, but that won’t fool me into falling for your bullshit and betraying the only real family I’ve ever had.”

“Fine.” I blinked away my tears, refusing to let the asshole see me cry. I was crying because I was angry, not because I was sad. “If you’re determined to ignore the truth staring you in the face, then let me go.”

“Nah,” he said, keeping me locked in the cage of his arms. “You’re not going anywhere.”

7

Jack

Just like I’d thought: Aviva was a motherfucking liar.

I knew liars. Well. My eldest brother, Micah, had lied when he’d told me as a kid that he was coming back for me, that he wouldn’t leave me with our abusive father.

My mother had lied when she said she’d protect us, no matter what.

My father had lied when he said he loved us. When he hadn’t told us about his other family.

The only person who had never lied to me was Coach Jensen. He’d seen me skating on an ice rink at the age of thirteen, skated up to me, and said, “Kid, you’ve got real talent. Trust me, and I’ll make sure you go far in life and get everything you want.”

He’d kept his promise. Interceded with my parents, gave me a place to stay when shit at home got too horrible to be there, paid for all my hockey gear and training because god knew my father wouldn’t fork over the money. He encouragedme, pushed me to be my best, and when he got the job at Reina, recruited me to come here. Together, we’d built a team, a family. I owed everything to him.

But as I stared down at the girl trapped in my arms, captivated by the angry tears sliding down her cheeks, I wondered—for just a moment—if I’d missed something. Because my internal lie detector was silent.

No.She was lying; I was too distracted by her pussy, that was all.

Some coaches were leeches who fucked with their athletes, but IknewCoach. He’d never once touched me, never even hinted at it. And Asher had always been sullen, angry, secretive. He’d had his own agenda. It stood to reason his fucking sister would be the same.

“Let me go,” she repeated, bringing me back to the present.

I really should’ve. But despite her conniving bullshit, I wanted her. Her goddamned body, the sounds she’d made when she’d come, even her tears were a revelation. She smelled like sweat and fear and my come, like sex, sweet and tart. That goddamned apples and honey smell, it would haunt me forever.

I hadn’t even gotten my cock in her tight pussy, and I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted anyone. It was like I was two men: one, feral, ravenous, determined to punish her and ruin her for anyone else. Turn her into my little fucktoy and humiliate her as I defiled every one of her holes. It was the least she deserved. The other, territorial and weirdly protective, like she belonged to me and I needed to keep her safe, be gentle around her inexperience.

I ignored that second man; it was an absurd impulse. I didn’t want to protect her, I wanted to break her.

---