Page 40 of Defensive Zone

Then Stemmer dropped his gloves. It was the invitation Max was waiting for. He wasn’t going down for an instigator penalty and he’d timed it perfectly.

They circled each other like prize fighters. Stemmer had a grin on his face that probably matched Max’s. The man was known for his quick temper and Max was happy to get some ten-finger justice for his teammates.

“Of you? Please,” Stemmer fired back.

“You’re a fucking prick, Stems,” Max said. He’d never liked the guy. Quick to play dirty and fight the same way. Max knew not to let his guard down with this man.

“You going to use your words or your fists?” Stemmer said, taking the first swing.

Max grabbed Stemmer’s jersey in one fist and punched the smug bastard right under the jaw. Stemmer’s head snapped back before he locked eyes with Max again. Stemmer grabbed Max’s jersey and Max barely missed a punch to his jaw before he got another hit on Stemmer. They each threw a few more punches, helmets were off, and in seconds, they were on the ice. Max had the upper hand, landing one more punch before the refs and linesmen pulled them apart.

Max shook his head, hearing all the yells and stick taps from his teammates on the bench. He’d momentarily blocked them out when he’d focused solely on Stemmer.

“Stemmer, you’re out. Game misconduct. Ten-minute major,” the ref called, and Stemmer bitched about his well-deserved punishment.

“Bastian, five-minute major for roughing. In the box,” the ref said.

About fucking time the officials pulled their heads out of their asses tonight.

“He fucking started it,” Stemmer yelled.

“You dropped your gloves first and the puck was at the other end of the ice,” the ref said.

Max held back his smirk. It’d gone exactly as he’d planned.

“Enjoy the locker room, you piece of shit,” Max said before he skated to the penalty box. Bugsy would be pissed that his best defenseman was sitting out the next five minutes, but at least it hadn’t resulted in a penalty kill.

“Nice fight, Baz,” Cheesy said when he skated over to hand Max his stick.

“Always a pleasure. Now, go get a goal, will ya?”

Cheesy laughed and shook his head as he skated toward the center dot for the next faceoff.

Just over an hour later, the Strikers had lost in OT. Cheesy had gotten that goal and forced overtime after a scoreless third. One minute into overtime, Calgary scored, and the Strikers were headed to the locker room with only a point.

At least Calgary hadn’t scored while he’d been in the box. It’d been his only positive point when Bugsy had ripped into Max for the fight.

Two hours later, he followed some of his teammates into Crash and Byrne. He wasn’t planning to stay long. A beer to commiserate, and then he’d head home. He’d added more than a few new bruises to his body tonight and the shower he’d taken after the game had barely taken the edge off.

“Tough loss, guys,” Adam Byrne, the bar owner, said as a few of the guys parked their asses on the empty stools at one corner of the scarred and well-loved bar top.

“Fucking sucked,” Harty said.

“How’s Sully?” Adam asked. Adam had played in the AHL with Sully before Sully had moved up to the NHL and Adam’s career had been cut short due to injury and his father passing away.

“Spent the rest of the game in the concussion room, but he seemed okay. Should know more in a few days,” Max said.

“Thanks for taking the fucker out,” Adam said. “Sara freaked, of course. I told her to go home.”

Sara was the amazing chef at C&B and Sully’s girlfriend.

Max nodded. “Anytime.”

“The officiating was horrendous,” Adam said.

“Fucking awful,” Max said.

They continued talking to Adam while the man worked up and down the bar with one of his other bartenders. C&B was their home and Max was grateful to have a place where they could chill out after a loss and not get bombarded by fans.

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