Page 111 of Across the Boards

“Let go of me,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low while looking desperately over his shoulder for anyone who might notice.

He backs me against the wall, releasing my arm but placing his palm flat beside my head, caging me in. “You made it my business when you showed up to my game wearing his jersey. When you paraded around like some trophy he’d won from me.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Don’t fucking speak.” His voice drops, the pleasant mask gone. “I’ve spent the last month being a laughingstock because my ex-wife is fucking the guy who beat me bloody on national television. You have any idea what that does to my reputation? To my standing in the league?”

I force myself to meet his gaze. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you provoked him.”

His face twists with rage. Instead of hitting me, he leans closer, his cheek almost brushing mine as he speaks directly into my ear.

“Did you know Carter has a suspension history? Three games last season for a high hit. Two the year before for instigating a fight.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything.” He pulls back, his expression cold. “Because I’ve got friends on the disciplinary committee. The same people who review game footage, who determine suspensions, who decide whether a hit was accidental or deliberate.”

My stomach drops as I begin to understand.

“Carter plays on the edge. One bad hit away from a serious suspension.” He smiles, the expression chilling. “And I can make sure that hit comes with consequences he can’t imagine.”

“You can’t just manufacture penalties.”

“Can’t I? You’d be surprised what a different camera angle can do, what slowing down footage can suggest about intent.” He checks his watch. “A career-ending suspension isn’t hard to arrange. Not with his history, not with the right people reviewing the footage.”

“You’re bluffing,” I say, but the fear in my voice betrays me.

“Remember Davis Mitchell? The enforcer from Vancouver? Career over at thirty-two after that ‘reckless’ hit?” His smile widens. “Funny how the replay angles made it look worse than it was. Almost like someone wanted to make an example of him.”

My blood runs cold. Mitchell had been suspended indefinitely after a controversial hit. I’d never made the connection to Jason before, but it made a sickening kind of sense.

“That was you?”

“Let’s just say I helped the disciplinary committee see things from the right perspective.” He shrugs. “Mitchell crossed me. Said things about my defensive skills to a reporter. Made me look bad.”

“And you ruined his career over it?”

“Actions have consequences, Elliot. Something your boyfriend is about to learn.”

“Why are you doing this?” I fight to keep my voice steady.

“Because no one makes a fool of me and walks away from it. He crossed a line, and now I’m crossing one back.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I make sure his next questionable hit is his last. Trust me, there will be a next one—all I have to do is wait. He plays on the edge, all it takes is one mistake that I can make sure gets interpreted in the worst possible way.” He steps back. “Of course, if he knew the danger, he might be more careful. But that would require someone warning him, wouldn’t it?”

The implied threat is clear—don’t tell Brody about this conversation.

“This is harassment.”

“This is friendly advice.” He finally steps back. “Break it off with Carter. Clean, quick, no drama. Tell him it’s the age difference, the bad timing, whatever story works. Just end it.”

“And if I don’t?”

His expression shifts to something colder. “Then I’ll make sure he regrets ever looking at you. I have sixteen years in this league. Connections, influence, respect. He has what? A journeyman career bouncing between teams? No one would question when he suddenly can’t catch a break. When the suspensions start adding up. When the trade rumors begin.”

“You’re pathetic,” I say, but the words lack conviction as fear coils in my stomach. Because I know Jason doesn’t make empty threats.

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