Page 54 of Breakneck Hockey

Casey.

Stacey and I step into the fray and two bouncers file in from the sides. One of them is a guy I know from high school days. “Hey man, sorry. We’re getting our crew outta here. This is all a misunderstanding,” I explain.

“Alright, just get goin’. We don’t need no fights tonight. Cops have already been here too many times this week.”

“Thanks, man.”

I grip Casey by the neck, but I have to frog-march him out of The Foxy. As we hit the street, the original dude Casey knocked into sneers as we walk out.

“Yah! Keep walkin’,” Casey shouts. “We’re hockey players. You’re lucky we don’t beat your asses.”

Fuck. Fuck me.We’re not on the Goddamn ice, Alderchuck.

I send Casey flying, just in time to take buddy’s fist to the face. Spit flies from my mouth as my head whips right, but my periphery catches the flash of movement, and I duck, swinging a punch to his ribs.

We’re hockey players. We take and give hits for a living. He also tried to hit my Alderchuck. Yeah, he was a fucking loudmouth who deserved it, but he’s mine and nobody hits him but me—on the ice only, of course.

I lay into this guy. Blood wets my hand. He lays into my face twice as hard.

There are sirens and red and blue lights. I pin buddy down long enough to track down Stacey Alderchuck. “Get him out of here.”

“Hey! Hey, no. Stace!” Casey protests.

“He’ll meet up with us later,” Stacey lies to get him moving. I’ll be doing something very different later, probably involving a holding cell. Don’t know where the rest are, but hopefully long gone.

Two officers pull me off the ground, slamming me against the car. Cold metal slaps around my wrists. I recognize the guy arresting me. Vancouver’s not supposed to be quite this small, but some luck is on my side tonight.

“Whoa, there. Buy me dinner first, eh? I’ll come peacefully, Rem.”

“Mitch?” Remy says.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, I have to take you in, but I’ll stop roughing you up. What happened?”

“Wrong place, wrong time.” My gaze travels to the edge of the street, beyond Vancouver’s raging nightlife. Silhouettes bounce and bob against the thin veil of light that makes it that far. I imagine the curls falling over his face, long lashes blinking, his lips against the back of my neck.

It’s more like wrong place, wrong lifetime. I can’t give him what he wants, but fuck him if he thinks we’re done.

Chapter 9

Boston

Sutter

No one pressed charges. Lucky me. Pretty sure Francisco had a hand in that. He might practice family law, not criminal law, but with a son like me, he needed to learn to speak police officer. It took a couple of days, though, costing me a final pre-training camp romp with Alderchuck. I contemplated canceling my flight, but ultimately decided that getting to Boston was best for my hockey career. Otherwise, who knows what kind of trouble I would have gotten into because of Casey?

Unfortunately, the team manager doesn’t give a fuck about my good intentions. She’s tall, blonde, and tucked into a gray pencil skirt. It’s like a former cheerleader’s trying out for CEO of the year. I don’t get it, but I also know better than to piss off an already pissed-off woman who means to eat you for lunch. I mean that as a compliment, and I keep my mouth shut.

“Explain this to me,” Gina says, tossing down an iPad. I’m in her office in Boston. Haven’t even hit the ice for training camp yet, and I’m already in trouble. Not great. She’s got a thick non-rhotic accent, dragging out the vowels, and dropping the r’s. If I could be intimidated, she’d definitely be intimidating.

Some fucking internet sleuth dug up the very minor Vancouver newspaper that did a nice write up on me. Felt personal. No one does write-ups on bar fights—they happen every night—but a bar fight involving one of the NHL’s newest? Someone was trying to make editor-in-chief.

I’d better go with the truth. Maybe she’ll have a soft spot for romance. “There’s this guy, y’see and?—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” She waves her finger in front of me. “Your personal life does not damage this team, do you understand?”

I could bench press this woman, but, like with Isla and Mom, I’m not gonna push her to her limit. “Yes, ma’am.”

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