Page 161 of Ice Dance Hockey

Huh. Cryptic. “Your messages implied you wanted to tear me a new one.”

“That was before I had a solution. I have a solution.”

“A solution you’ll share with me?”

“Soon.”

My gaze flicks to the men in the front seat just beyond the wall of darkened plexiglass. The man in the passenger seat speaks into an earpiece. Shit.

“Know what? I think I left the stove on.” The car isn’t moving that fast. I can jump without much of an injury. I try the door. It’s locked. I slam my palm against the window. At least the car shakes and my dad jumps. “What are you doing?”

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he says.

“You sound like a cartoon villain. What the fuck is this?”

“You can’t see Logan anymore.”

“Why? Because the internet doesn’t approve? Fuck the internet.”

“Because I don’t approve. You’re going to be with someone much more suitable, and if I have to make it happen, I will.”

Shit. Jack. I hope to fuck he hasn’t involved Jack.

“Jack on the starting lineup was you, wasn’t it?”

“Mhm. Together you’ll be the world’s hockey super couple. It’s what’s best for you.”

“You’re not even running again.” It doesn’t make sense why he’s pushing so hard for this.

“Who knows what the future holds? Maybe I’ll decide I want to be Premier of BC or even Prime Minister.”

Fuck. I run a hand through my sweaty hair. “What do you want?”

He pats my leg. “You’ll see son, almost there. You know, I sowed some pretty wild oats myself before I married your mother. At least you and Jack will have that out of your system.”

“Fuck you, Dad.” I knock his hand away.

The drive takes us to a secluded industrial area. How cliché, but I suppose there’s a reason for that. Bad for press to dragoon your son in a public space.

As soon as one of the men opens the door, I land a solid right hook to his nose. Blood funnels over his lips. The other man attempts to grab me, and he gets the same treatment. Hopping out, I’m ready to go some more rounds with these idiots.

Father walks around from the other side. “We all know you could take them both, but you’ll want to come inside for this conversation.”

Huffing, I know he’s right. I have to find out what he’s done—done being the keyword. Father only works with absolutes. Still wouldn’t mind beating on these two for the hell of it. Straightening my shirt, I stand taller. “Fine. Lead the way.”

* * *

It’s a bare office space. Nothing on the walls. Father’s sitting behind a wooden desk that’s seen better days in a beaten tall-backed rolling chair, with the goons I beat on standing to either side of him. My chair is surprisingly comfortable. It does not match the vibe of this conversation.

I can’t take it anymore. “If you fucking hurt Logan, I swear to God?—”

“He’s safe, for now, but not off the table. It depends on your behavior.”

I shut my mouth. He has the upper hand, but I’ll make sure it’s not for long. It’s better to collect as much information as I can.

The glass window on the office door shakes with the clamor being dragged in.

“Merc? Merc? You in here? Fuck I hope so. Been dying for you to have me abducted so we can fuck like?—”

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