Page 34 of On Ice

The empty net beckons.

Two Chicago players converge on him. Mills could dump it in, play it safe. By sending the puck deep into Chicago’s zone, Mills could move the play far away from our team’s defensive area, where Chicago can more easily score. This buys us time to regroup. By dumping the puck in Chicago’s zone that means their players have to skate back to retrieve it. This forces them to start their attack from scratch, which takes time and effort. Butinstead of doing that, Mills spots me trailing the play and slots a backhand pass through their defense.

The puck lands flat on my stick.

Fuck.

Time slows. I’m so stressed about what to do, I feel like my brain is short-circuiting. I could miss. Ishouldmiss. I could shoot wide. The pressure I’m under is crushing. Anyone could miss under these circumstances. Sure, my team will be gutted, but they won’t suspect I fucked up on purpose. I could follow Luca’s plan and keep Noah safe. It won’t be the two goal lead Luca wanted, but at least Chicago would win. Maybe that would be enough for him to show Noah mercy.

I look at my team, battered, exhausted. They’ve got almost nothing left in the tank, but still they’re fighting as hard as they can. I’m afraid of Luca. Terrified of what he’ll do to Noah and me. I remember the black rage I saw in his eyes when I was in his office. I’ve never felt evil like that. If I put my team first, this might be my last day on earth. My eyes meet Deck’s. The hope I see in his eyes rips my heart out. This could be his last season. You never know. He’s older than most of the team. Being in the playoffs means everything to him.

I can’t do it. I can’t turn on my brothers.

The shot leaves my stick before I even fully decide to take it.

Game over. Ice Hawks win 3-2.

The roar of the crowd is deafening. My teammates flood the ice, shouting, laughing, pounding each other on the back. Deck grabs me first, his gloves still on as he pulls me into a rough, exhilarated hug. Jackson jumps into the huddle next, helmet askew, his grin stretching ear to ear. The rest of the team pilesin, a mess of arms, sticks, and pure adrenaline. Noah skates out from his crease, shaking his head in disbelief, his face split with a grin as he claps me on the shoulder.

I allow myself to feel the pure, unfiltered joy of this win. I bathe myself in my teammates ecstasy. But as we skate off the ice toward the tunnel, I can’t help glancing up. Luca’s silhouette is there like a black cloud. I can feel his rage all the way down on the ice. Fear curls in my gut at the intensity of his stare.

I have to talk to him right away. I need to make some excuse and go see him. I don’t have time to celebrate with the team. I need to get my gear off, and go to Lucaimmediately.

Before he has time to go after Noah.

I don’t know what I’m going to say. I have no idea how to calm him down or make this right. I only know that when push came to shove, I couldn’t turn on my team. I just couldn’t do it. I’d rather die than purposely keep them from their dreams.

And that might well be what is about to happen.

Chapter Ten

Luca

“Goddamn littlepissant,” I growl, smashing my glass of whisky against the faded orange carpet. I’m shaking with rage. “I’ll fucking murder him. I’m going to strangle that bastard.”

“Jesus Christ.”Marco rakes a hand through his dark hair, looking flustered. He knows this is bad. In fact, bad is an understatement. This is a fucking disaster. “Is he nuts? Does he have a death wish?”

My phone starts ringing instantly. Every person who bet on the game because I promised Chicago was going to win, now wants my blood. I’m seething. I can’t see straight I’m so enraged at Evan. The little fucker just put a bullseye on my back. My reputation just took a very dangerous hit. He just made me look weak. Ineffectual.

He might have just got me killed.

Was that his plan, or was he’s so naive he didn’t understand that rebelling against me didn’t just affectme? My mob associates trusted me, which means they bet large sums on Chicago winning. I gave them mypersonalassurance the game would be thrown. Vincent wagered millions, expecting an easy payday. Maria too. They all did. Hell,Idid. I have no idea how to clean up this god awful mess Evan just created, and that is terrifying.

“Go get him and bring him here.” My voice shakes with anger.“Now.”

Marco lunges toward the door, but as he opens it, we find Evan standing there with his hand raised as if he was about to knock. He’s pale and I see the fear in his eyes. He knows he’s in trouble. He knows he fucked up. Still, terrified or not, he enters the room and walks straight to me.

I don’t want to hear his excuses. I don’t give a fuck what his reasons were for screwing me over. I don’t even let him get one word out before I grab his shirt and shove him against the bar. Bottles and glassware crash to the ground, splintering into glistening shards. Evan doesn’t make a sound or plead for mercy; he just stares at me as he lies half-sprawled on the bar. I raise my fist to punch him square in the face, but for some reason, I hesitate. He’s so damn pretty, and I hate the thought of messing up his face. It’s a ridiculous thought, considering he probably just signed my death warrant.

Instead of burying my fist in his face, I slap him. Hard. Hard enough that his lip splits open, blood smearing on my hand and his cheek. I yank his flushed face to mine, breathing hard as I snarl, “Do you realize what you’vedone?”

He still doesn’t speak. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks gutted. Terrified. What I don’t see is anger. I fully expected him to be cocky, arrogant, happy he just gave me the ultimate fuck-you. But he looks more broken than anything.

I shake him hard enough to rattle his teeth, and throw him to the floor. He lands face down, and groaning, he rolls onto his back. Marco hasn’t said a word. He’s standing nearby, looking stone faced. Usually, I’d have him work a guy over. I don’t like to get my hands dirty unless I have to. But this feels personal between Evan and me, and I’m only too happy to put my hands on the little bastard myself.

I’m breathing hard as I stand over Evan. He makes no attempt to get up. He stays flat on the floor, watching me like I’m his worst nightmare. “Your little stunt didn’t just fuckmeover, Evan. You fucked all my associates over too,” I shout.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

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