Page 10 of Brutal Game

Iwould.

Reaching the locker room, I tapped the card against the card reader, opening the door—and wrinkled my nose the moment I stepped inside.

God, hockey locker rooms fucking stunk. I knew this well; I’d washed Asher’s gear for him over the years, but it had been a while since I’d been so…surrounded by it. I wandered through, trailing my hand over the cubbies.

And felt like my heart was stabbed by an empty one that still readAsher Goldon the top in gold letters. Blinking away angry tears, I continued through the cubbies, passing a cubby with a jersey hanging: Wasserson, 69, and snorted, and then stopped at the last.

Feldman, 1.

Unable to stop myself, I traced a hand over the name and number, imagining I could smell that particular Jack scent, and sighed. I hated that he’d gotten to me the way he had, but hehad. At twenty-one, I hadn’t had much experience with guys. Hadn’t really had the time, or the interest. Mostly the time. As a scholarship student at my old university,and now Reina, I had to work to cover food and books, as well as pay rent for the tiny apartment I now shared with Tovah. Between that and my psychology classes, I didn’t have time for guys who probably would take one look at my scar and run away.

My one and only boyfriend, Tom, had been awful about it. We’d made out a lot—subpar kisses, I’d now realized. When I’d finally been ready to lose my virginity to him, he’d taken off my shirt, seen my scar—and had been disgusted. So disgusted, he blamed me for not being able to stay hard. I’d immediately dumped him.

After that, I had no interest in having sex. All my orgasms would continue to be courtesy of my own hand. I tried not to be ashamed of the scar, but Tom had done a number on me. I was never letting anyone see it, ever again. After all, it was an ugly reminder of the night Asher’s and my life had gone to hell.

Releasing Jack’s jersey, I turned, ready to focus on figuring out how to get into Coach Jensen’s office.

Which was when someone grabbed me from behind.

I tried to scream, but their big hand covered my mouth as they dragged me backward. Terrified, I fought against them.

“Maybe instead of princess, I should’ve nicknamed you thief,” Jack murmured in my ear.

Jack was here, holding me, surrounding me. And from his tone, he sounded like he wanted to kill me. I struggled against him, hitting and kicking and scratching wherever I could. It didn’t matter. He just stood there, batting away my arms and legs like I was a kitten, waiting until I tired out.

Which I did, finally. As I breathed heavily, I realized he was as hard and thick as he’d been at the party. And, oh god, it shouldn’t have,it shouldn’t have.But knowing my fightinghad made him hard, the feeling of him pressed against my ass, just his jeans and my skirt and our underwear the only barriers between us…it made me wet.

He wasn’t done with his questions.

“Maybe I should’ve nicknamed you spy. Which is it, Aviva? What the hell are you doing in here?”

“None of your business,” I tried to say against his hand, but it just came out as a mumble.

Angrily, I bit him for the second time that night.

“Careful there, little spy,” he said, jerking me back against him harder. “I bite back.”

Turning me around in his arms, he looked down at me, his dark eyes threatening to swallow me whole.

Hisangrydark eyes.

“How did you find me?” I gasped.

He backed me up against the wall between his and Judah's lockers, wrapping his huge hand around my throat. Panicking, I tried to fight him off, but he didn't release his grip. I could breathe fine, but the threat was there: if he wanted to cut off my air, he could. If he wanted to crush my throat, he could. I couldn’t fight him, was helpless against him.

What was it like, to have that much power?

“I’m the one asking the questions now,” he said. “Who the hell are you really, Aviva, and what are you doing on my campus, in my arena, in my locker room? What are you looking for?”

I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t know him and didn’t trust him. And I’d made Asher a promise not to tell anyone what had happened to him—I wasn’t going to risk informing Jack if he didn’t already know. After all, nothing about our interaction, at the party or now, screamed “trustworthy” or “good guy.”

So I kept my mouth shut.

This pissed him off.

“Are you a student at Tabb?” he asked, naming their rival school. “Trying to do hockey recon for their team?”

I snorted. “Like I give a shit about who wins a hockey game.”

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