Page 23 of Grumpy Puck

“That was yesterday,” I growl.“As of now, she’s more than off limits.She’s mine.”I meet the gaze of each player one by one, so there can be no mistake that I’m being heard.“Anyone who comes near her will become a eunuch.”

There.Not as subtle as Coach would have suggested, but they know all they need to know and are free to gossip… unless I’ve scared them out of doing even that.Or unless they respect the unwritten rule that states “what happens in the locker room stays in the locker room.”All I know is, there’s no sign of cheering or snickering when I grab the mascot costume from my locker, and the silence continues even when I pull out Calliope’s clothes… including her panties.

Good.The fuckers must be smarter than I’ve given them credit for.

Leaving the locker room, I stride over to the closet that’s become Calliope’s changing room and find the door wide open.She’s inside, scanning her surroundings in dismay.

“What’s wrong?”I growl.

“Like you don’t know?”She glares at me.“Do you and the rest of the brutes think it’s funny to ransack my room like this?”

Fuck.She’s right.It looks as though someone went through all the shit in this room and then didn’t put it back the way it ought to be afterward.

“Whoever did this wasn’t anyone on the team,” I say coldly.

They’re not suicidal.

“Who then?”she demands.

Great fucking question.“I don’t know, but we can start by talking to security.”

“Oh.”She brightens.“You think there’s a camera monitoring the door?”

“Better fucking be.”

Together, we head over to the security office, where we learn that no, there are no cameras by the door to her changing room or in any of the hallways near it.

“As of today, there will be,” I tell the guy.

“What do you mean?”he asks.“The budget?—”

I toss a few hundred dollars at him.“I don’t care if you have to go to RadioShack yourself.Get it done.I’ll be back to check.”

“RadioShack?”Calliope says as we’re headed back.“Is he supposed to jump into a time machine and go back to 2014?”

I frown.“This isn’t a joking matter.Someone broke into your changing room.”And when I find out who, there will be hell to pay.

“Could it be related to the stuff online?”she asks.“Maybe I’ve gained an overeager fan?”

I halt in my tracks.“You mean a stalker?”

“Well, I guess I do.My youngest sister is a… performer, and she had one once.He was pretty harmless, and after one of my brothers had a talk with him, he left her alone.”

Sure, her brother “talked” with the stalker.I’m sure no hammers or pliers were involved.“Stalkers aren’t harmless,” I say firmly.“If there is one, I’m going to find him and make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

If growing up in an orphanage in Russia has taught me anything, it’s how to properly deal with people who cross me.

“It’s probably not a stalker,” she says.“I still think it’s more likely a prank by your teammates.”

Hmm.“I’ll ask them about it now,” I tell her.“See you on the rink.”I turn to leave, but this time she’s the one who puts a hand on my shoulder, and the feeling of her delicate fingers makes me instantly hard.

“What?”I demand without turning.

“How do I get to the rink?”

Oh.I tell her, then get back to the locker room just in time to catch my teammates gearing up.

“Did anyone go into her dressing room?”I demand.“Admit it now, and I might be merciful.”By which I mean I’ll only break half the bones I would have otherwise.

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