Page 104 of My Pucking Crush

“You’re being irrational. You’re putting him in more danger.”

“He’s alive right now because of me.” My voice turns as sharp as a blade. “And no, I won’t elaborate.”

Bronwin steps back and gives me a chilling stare. “Thatprivatesecurity work on your resume...”

“I know what I’m doing.” I straighten my tie and hold my head high. “I have to go protect my client.”

And make sure he leaves this building alive...

FIFTY-FOUR

Max

Only four teams in professional hockey history have come back from a 0-3 deficit in the postseason to win all four following games.

It’s unlikely. Not unheard of. Not impossible.

This situation with Richmond and what they’re capable of, though, means these next four games will be nothing short of brutal.

Unless we end this tonight.

We’ve backed them against the wall, and they have nothing to lose since they’re already statistically eliminated. This is where gentlemen are separated from the goons. The spoilsports who don’t see you as the team that will go on to represent the East Coast united against the West. Richmond has all the makings of sore losers who want to send us to the finals bruised and broken.

It’s just a game, right? There’s always next season. Not for me. I’m aching to win the finals one last time and secure my legacy with this team.

My phone rings as I’m about to put it away in my pants, and I cringe seeing my mother’s number. Under my name, of course, because I pay for their phones.

Why are they even calling? Do they want tickets to the next game? I doubt it. And if they do, too bad. I gave the next game’s tickets to Willis who’s got eight siblings and they always come out to see him play.

I can’t get two fucking people to show up. Right now, I don’t care what Mom and Dad want so I let the call go to voicemail.

FIFTY-FIVE

Luca

During the first intermission with Max safely behind closed and guarded doors in the locker room, I decide to take a stroll to the home team’s side of the stadium’s underbelly. Stupid, since I’m in enemy territory. And not just as a Crusher employee.

The first twenty minutes of play felt like being circled by sharks. No attacks, just Richmond preying on my team. It’s 0-0, both teams choosing caution over destruction.

The chilling feeling all around me on this side of the stadium isn’t the ice. Knowing the risks of Belova giving the signal and having me dragged away outweigh my need to keep Max safe. Part of my job as enforcer was to interrogate enemies. Before I killed them. I’d gotten so good, I could take one look in their eyes and know everything.

I just need to see this Quinn guy up close.

And let himsee me. Let him see what I will do to him and his family if he hurts Max. Christ, it’s come to this, threatening innocents. Feeling unhinged, I pick up my pace.

Before I know it, I’m at Richmond’s locker room. The guards at the door are clearlybratoks. Russian mob soldiers.

“I need to talk to one of your players,” I say to the trio of menacing looking men.

“No can do.” One of the guards shakes his head

I glance at them. Are they in on it? If Belova is running this team like his brotherhood, these guys are in the dark. For deniability. Given a strict set ofinstructions, punishable if the rules are broken. Harshly.

In a moment of weakness, I say, “Is Mr. Belova’s assistant around? The cute brunette?”

Samara isn’t Ivan’s assistant, and I doubt she’s here in Richmond. He’s got her locked up in his Chicago mansion. If he’s smart.

They look at each other. “Mr. Belova doesn’t have an assistant,” one of them says.

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