Page 163 of Gloves Off

“You okay?” I ask him after, and he nods.

“I’m fine. Let’s play.”

We all look to the ref.

No penalty. Blood pounds in my ears.

“They’re trying to take the rookie out,” Owens mutters to us.

This happens sometimes, usually to Miller. They see what he can do, and they want him injured so he can’t play.

“You good?” Miller asks me, a question in his eyes.

I know what I need to do. I hate this part, but I can’t sit around and watch the rookie get the shit beat out of him.

Protective rage rattles through me. Not on my watch. Not one of my guys.

My gaze swings to the hallway behind the bench, where Georgia sits, watching the game and eating dinner. Hesitation twists in my gut, warring with my need to protect the rookie. She’s not going to like this.

I nod at Miller. “I’m good. Let’s do it.”

While we line up for a face-off, I find the guy who hit Walker, and I smile at him. It’s not my Georgia smile. It’s myI’m about to fuck you upsmile. Cold, calculating, and cruel. I think about the way Walker rag-dolled against the boards, and adrenaline hits my bloodstream.

Now I wait for my opportunity.

The puck drops, the game restarts, but before the next whistle blows, I’m hit from the side, slammed into the boards, and pain sears through my shoulder and face.

CHAPTER 76

GEORGIA

I watchAlexei take the hit. I watch his shoulder dislocate. Even through his pads, his shoulder’s not supposed to move like that.

Nausea and pain roll through me, like it’smyshoulder getting dislocated, and without realizing it, I’m pushing through the people to get to the medical room.

One of the trainers steps in my path. “Dr. Greene, maybe we should have the other team’s doctor look at this one?—”

“That’s my husband,” I bite out with an intensity I’ve never felt before, heart pounding, ready to claw this guy’s face off if I have to. I think I’m yelling. “Back the fuck up and get out of my way.”

He steps away with his palms in the air. “Jesus.”

Another trainer helps Alexei into the medical room, and my heart beats so hard I think it might give out. His eyebrow is bleeding from where he hit the boards.

“On the table, Jason,” I direct them.

“I’m okay,” Alexei murmurs to me. “It’s not too bad.”

I don’t answer. He’s not okay. Itisbad. He could have bent or broken the steel plate holding his collarbones together. He could have gotten another concussion. He’s already going to have to play through the healing process. These guys can’t afford to take the time off that they need, not until the offseason.

My hands shake as I go through my bag. He’s going to need painkillers to get ahead of the swelling and pain.

“Dr. Greene.” Tate appears in the doorway. The period must be over. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” I need to be in focus mode and put my emotions aside, like I don’t care about this guy. I can’t, though. I take a deep breath in through my nose and let it out slowly.

“Can you please have the other team’s doctor supervise?” I ask Tate. “It’s a conflict of interest for me. And I’m going to need help putting his shoulder back in.”

He returns a moment later with Dr. Cheung, a woman about my age. Together, we get Alexei’s jersey and pads off, ignoring him when he grumbles about having those pads for over a decade.

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