Page 103 of My Pucking Crush

“I hacked the guy’s phone. He’s a hired guard for Quinn’s family.”

“His parents?” I ask.

Trinity shakes his head. “Wife and kids.”

Jake Quinn has a wife and kids? Did I know this? Did Max tell me the guy got married?

“Why would Belova hire a bodyguard for a third shift right winger he’s called up from the minors?” I pace around the room like a caged tiger.

“I didn’t say Belova hired him,” Trinity deadpans. “Jake Quinn hired him.”

We all stop and it’s like we got hit in the face with a stick.

I look again. In front of Jake’s hired guard, sits a stunning blonde woman in a Richmond jersey and four kids, also blonde. Two to the right, two to the left. The guy who sucked Max’s dick freshman year of high school is...straight? Turned straight? In the closet? Bitter?

We’ve been in this stifling, sorry excuse for a visiting team office, and the game is about to start. Other guards leave to watch the players do their pregame meeting with the coach. When Bronwin and I are alone, I yank him by the tie.

“Quinn is being paid to hurt Max. Belova threatened him withsomething.” I wonder if Belova knows Jake and Max have history and threatened to expose him.

Fuck...That’sit!

With the photo in hand, I yank the door open and run for the tunnel, but Max is gone. He’s on the ice. And he’s a target.

Bronwin comes up behind me, breathing heavily from chasing my ass.

I grab him by the jacket. “Tell Beck to pull Max.”

“He’ll never pull his starting defensemen when we’re up 3-0 and we can clinch this playoff round tonight and sweep the series.”

“Then we need to warn him,” I say.

“Warn him of what? A winger who wants to attack him? Hurt him? Check him into the boards? That’s what wingers do.”

“Could he have a weapon on him?” I ask, thinking how desperate could a team get to avoid elimination.

“No.” Bronwin would know, he’s a former player and knows the uniform.

“We have to stop the game,” I say, running a hand through my hair.

Silence rings out.

“It’s a playoff game.” Bronwin takes out his phone. “It’s being televised. They won’t stop it.”

“It’s a security matter,” I bark.

“Your hunches are valid. But we don’t know for sure,” Bronwin argues and stares at me.

“So we wait for him to get hurt?” My voice cracks.

Bronwin tilts his head like he sees through me. “Are you fucking him?”

My body goes rigid. He knows I’m gay.

“Fucking who?” I ask.

His jaw tightens. “Are you kidding?”

“It doesn’t...” I don’t know how to finish that.It doesn’t mean anythingcrosses my mind. Now I’d be as bad as Max. “It has nothing to do with anything.”

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