Page 36 of On Ice

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you know nothing about me, Evan.” Why it bothers me that he thinks poorly of me, I’m not sure. Lots of people think poorly of me. I don’t lose sleep over it. But whenever Evan gives me that snobby, judgmental look, it annoys me to no end.

“I know enough.” His eyes are ice cold. “You’re probably the worst person I’ve ever met.”

Marco swears under his breath and growls, “Boss, please let me get rid of this guy. I’ve heard enough of his punk-ass mouth to last a lifetime.”

Marco absolutely needs to be the one who handles Evan. He feels nothing for the guy, but I’m bewilderingly soft toward him. I don’t know what it is about Evan that gets to me. Sure, I’ve used him and haven’t exactly been nice to him, but deep down, I hate the idea of killing him. I wanted more of him. Having to end his life is disappointing. It’s like having my favorite toy snatched away before I got to play with it as much as I wanted.

“Yeah, take him away and deal with him,” I force the words out. This has to be done and if I take too much time to think about it, I might make the wrong decision out of weakness.

Evan clenches his jaw and fear shifts through his eyes, but he doesn’t plead with me or beg for his life. If anything, he looks resigned. “Will Noah be okay?”

Is he for real? Why isn’t he worried about himself?

I meet Marco’s gaze. “Get him the fuck out of here.”

Marco smirks and addresses Evan. “Let’s go.”

Evan moves to the door, shoulders straight. Marco opens the door and pushes Evan out first, then follows. I watch them go, biting my tongue to stop myself from telling them to come back. This has to happen. Someone has to pay, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me. Not if I have anything to say about it. Even with Evan taking the fall, there might still be those who want more retribution. Power hungry types like Vincent who think they didn’t get all they deserved in life.

Some people I’ll be able to bullshit, but others I’ll have to cover their losses with my own money. It’s not that I don’t have it, I do. But who likes parting with money when they don’t have to? Evan’s noble predisposition just cost me a bundle. If my ass weren’t on the line right now, I’d probably have kept him around and made him pay off his debt to me in fun ways. But this mistake was too big to simply slap him on the wrist.

I go to the windows that look out over the ice rink. There’s a dull ache in my chest as I watch the Zamboni machine smoothing out the ice. The crowd has mostly filtered out of the arena, and trash litters the stands. Crumpled programs, empty popcorn bags, and plastic beer cups, waiting for the cleanup crew.

Owning the Ice Hawks is going to be a lot less fun now that Evan won’t be around. I loved watching him skate during their practices. He was such a skilled player. Graceful but still aggressive. The team is going to struggle to replace him. I’d be shocked if they manage to make it into the playoffs without him.

Just as well.

I sigh and tug out my phone. There are a bunch of missed calls and messages from some very pissed off people. I need to call everyone back. I need to let them know the situation has been handled and it won’t happen again. My gaze falls to the dried blood on my fingers. Evan’s blood.

Why couldn’t he just do what I told him to do? Why did he have to fight me so hard? Why did he have to care so much about his teammates?

A pang of regret shivers through me and I mutter, “What a waste.” Then with a tired sigh, I start making phone calls.

Chapter Eleven

Evan

It’s like a hurricane outside. This storm wasn’t supposed to hit until late tomorrow, but it swept into Seabrooke early. I suppose it’s fitting that it hit now. My life feels like a stormy shit-show after winning the game tonight. Luca was so furious, I honestly thought he might kill me on the spot. Instead, Marco will handle the wet work. He seems pretty enthusiastic about it too.

It’s important to enjoy your job.

The Mercedes’ windshield wipers can’t keep up with the deluge. Every few seconds, the world disappears behind a sheet of water, then reappears in sharp relief when lightning flashes across the sky. Marco hasn’t spoken since we left the city. He’s focused on driving in the storm. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel might concern me if I didn’t know my fate is already sealed.

My wrists burn where the ropes dig into them, hands bound behind my back. If not for the seatbelt cutting into my neck, each hairpin turn would most certainly send me sliding across the leather seat. The mountain road climbs higher, guardrails appearing and disappearing in our headlights like broken teeth.

I won’t lie and pretend I’m not scared. I’m literally petrified. I pray that however Marco plans to kill me, it’s quick. There’s no point in begging for my life, or trying to reason with Marco. It wouldn’t work. I think he’s wanted to get rid of me since before he even met me. I can sense that he doesn’t like Luca’s interest inme. But Marco’s disapproval of me isn’t really personal. He’s just worried for his boss. He wants me gone because I could get Luca hurt. I don’t know anything about Marco, but I can tell he’s very protective of Luca.

Another flash of lightning, closer this time. The thunder that follows is instant, deafening. Through the streaming windows, I catch glimpses of sheer drops into darkness. Has Marco murdered people and dumped their bodies up on this mountain before? Probably. Odds are no bodies would ever be found at the bottom of these ravines. You don’t even have to bother digging a grave. Who would ever find the bodies other than wild animals?

I’m worried about what will happen to Mom with me gone. Matt and Dad can’t afford the Laurel Gardens Memory Care Center. My life insurance will help pay for a while, but not forever. My heart aches thinking of how upset Matt and Dad will be about my death. Mom won’t even know I’m gone. It’s the only time I suspect having Alzheimer’s might be a blessing.

The car vibrates oddly, and I frown. It almost feels like the tremor a car makes when a big truck is passing you on a highway. But there are no other cars on this road. Nobody but us is foolish enough to be up here on this mountain during a raging storm. There’s another low rumbling sound. Is that thunder? I didn’t see a flash of lightening preceding the noise.

Marco slows the car and through the windshield, the headlights illuminate rainwater streaming down the road. The water is muddy and it’s carrying stones and debris. When the water suddenly shifts direction, I notice tree branches and bigger rocks. The rumbling gets much louder, and panic jolts through me.

Tensing, Marco scans the cliffs above us. His thuggish face is illuminated by the orange light of the dashboard. He looks nervous, and that just makes me more worried. I don’t get the impression Marco is easily rattled, but he’s definitely on edge.

“Shit,” he growls as a wall of mud and rocks appear in the road. Marco yanks the wheel hard and the Mercedes fishtails, tires fighting for traction on the wet asphalt. For a moment we’re sideways, then another wall of mud and rock slams into us from above. Glass shatters and metal groans, and we’re spinning. Sliding toward the guardrail. I’m horrified when it doesn’t hold and instead crumples from the weight of our vehicle.

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