Page 31 of On Ice

By the time we leave, we’re all groaning from being too full and our cheeks are flushed from the wine. Despite Vincent sitting in my chair at the start of the meeting, he’s kissing the ring on his way out. Jimmy’s phone is glued to his ear as he barks orders to someone on his team about hacking a bank’s security system, Dimitri assures me the ports are under control for the hundredth time, and Maria kisses my cheek, and then climbs into Tommy’s limo. I’ll have to keep an eye on those two. If they’re sleeping together, it could spell trouble.

“That was less painful than usual,” Marco says as we settle into the back of the Mercedes. “I think Paolo was doing his best to get us drunk.”

I laugh. “We’re probably the only group he serves who are less trouble when we’re inebriated, and more trouble sober.”

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the leather seat. “By the way, Jimmy’s phone was clean. He didn’t record the meeting.”

“Good.”

He opens one eye. “Did you notice Tommy and Maria left together?”

“I did.” I stare out the window at the businesses flying by. This part of town’s a mashup of old and newly renovated. There are the historic brick buildings right next to shiny glass towers. The faux cobblestone streets and old-school streetlights give it this cool, vintage vibe, but then you’ve got trendy cafesand modern shops popping up everywhere. It’s like the past and the future are squaring off on every corner. “He’s nuts to get involved with her. We all know she murdered her husband.”

“Maybe he likes the challenge.”

I frown. “Of not dying?”

He shrugs a little smirk on his lips. “She’s hot. Probably a bobcat in the sack.”

“Yeah, I’m sure her husband thought the same thing right before she offed him.” Not that I’m in a position to judge. Lord knows I’d love to take Evan to bed again, even though he looks like he’d happily murder me. “Lust makes us do crazy things,” I murmur.

As if reading my mind, Marco lifts his head and asks, “Do you think Evan will do as he’s told tonight?”

My body tenses at his question. “Yes.” Truth be told, I’m still a little worried. Evan seemed cowed when he left my office yesterday, but he’s a prideful guy. It’s obvious playing against his teammates is unthinkable to him. That makes him unpredictable. Mostly though, I think he’ll do as I say.

He’d better.

“He made some good points though.” Marco fiddles with his tie. “If the Ice Hawks were able to beat Chicago and get into the playoffs, the betting angle would only be more lucrative for us.”

My stomach churns because I don’t disagree. “I know, but he can’t be the one telling me what to do.” My voice is harsher than intended because I’m frustrated. “I’m in charge, not him.”

He holds up his hands. “I know. I know. I’m just saying he had a point.”

“It’s a moot point. They probably wouldn’t win against Chicago anyway. The odds aren’t in their favor.” I shift away from Marco, hoping he’ll get the hint and drop the subject of Evan.

He doesn’t.

“Sure. But just imagine how much money you’d make if they did win. If the Ice Hawks somehow pulled off a victory and you put bet on them instead of against them, you’d make a killing.”

I give him a pointed look. “Speaking of killing, how about you kill the subject of tonight’s game?”

He grunts. “Sure, boss. Whatever you say.”

We pull into the parking lot of the Ice Hawks Arena and just as I exit the car, Evan drives into the lot. He doesn’t see me and Marco as he climbs from his truck. He hoists his bulky hockey bag onto his shoulder, and heads toward the arena. His head is down and he looks deep in thought. My gaze runs over his lanky frame, and my pulse picks up in spite of myself.

Marco catches me watching Evan, and my face warms. “What?” I ask curtly.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“Don’t read into shit, Marco.” My gaze is cold.

Pressing his lips tight, Marco doesn’t respond. He closes the door after me, and we walk toward the arena in silence. We’re about ten feet behind Evan, and despite my efforts not to fixate on him, I can’t keep my eyes off him.

There’s a man hovering near the side of the big building. The guy doesn’t look like much at first glance, but the way hisgaze is fixed on Evan gets under my skin. He’s lean, probably just shy of six feet, with sandy blond hair that’s messily styled in a way that looks accidental but probably isn’t.

He calls out to Evan, who stops walking. The other man strides toward him, and when they meet, they hug. Something unpleasant slithers through me as I watch them. Evan looks genuinely happy to see him. They stand close, leaning in, a familiarity between them that makes my gut ache.

When Evan drapes an arm around the guy’s shoulders and leads him into the building, I have to swallow the unhappy rumble rising in my throat. Who the fuck is that guy to Evan?

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