Page 88 of Wicked Ends
“I’m Brody. Brody Sinclair. Forward of the Raptors. Nice to meet you, Professor.”
His words were sending Marcus’ ears up around his shoulders. I had to de-escalate the situation. I tugged at Marcus’ shoulder to get him to break the deadly stare he’d fixed on his opponent, but he didn’t budge.
Brody chuckled. “Don’t get worked up, Bailey. We’ll have plenty of time to tussle together in a few minutes, unless you’re going to let your dalliance with the professor make you late. Sometimes it pays to pick a game you can actually score in.”
“Marcus,” I interjected, sensing the anger in him rising and rising.
He couldn’t get too worked up. If he lost it during the game, it could cost HHU a victory, and this Brody asshole knew it.
“Go and get ready. We’ll talk later,” I murmured. “Mr. Bailey,” I said in a hard tone when he failed to listen.
His tension faded, and he ripped his attention from Brody’s face to look at me. Something in his tight jaw relaxed at the sight of me.
He nodded. He eyed me up and down, and a ghost of a smirk touched his lips.
“That outfit suits you, birthday girl.”
“Don’t get mad,” I started.
Marcus shook his head. “I don’t get mad. I get even,” he said and jerked his head toward the end of the hall. “Now, get your gorgeous ass out there and watch me win.”
Marcus
The game had been goingto hell since the first buzzer, when Brody sideswiped Cayden and broke around him to score an impossible shot, scoring the first goal of the game with only seconds on the clock.
Fuck.Could the asshole bend time and space?
Brody shot a smug grin at me from across the ice. Oh, so he was trying to piss me off. Obvious play, but whatever. News had clearly spread that I’d lost my cool the other day, and now the Sinclair brothers, or maybe even their coach, had cooked up a plan to put the Hellions at a disadvantage, probably by baiting me into losing it and getting ejected from the game. Then we’d be left with our backup goalie, and Brody and Callahan would wipe the ice with him.
It wasn’t happening. Not today.
I focused on the puck, the gameplay, and the tactics. I started to see a pattern of how the defense moved explosively, distracting our own defensemen, while leaving the forwards on their own.I saved the next two shots, and Asher scored from the wing, evening the total.
I took a deep breath. We were back on track.
The game started again, and a low chuckle met my ear.
“You know, Bailey, I’ve heard a lot of shit about you. Felon father, criminal brother, waste-of-space mother, but I have to admit, fucking your mousy professor to pass the year is something I never thought I’d see.”
Brody skated in front of me, ignoring the gameplay at the other end of the rink. His eyes were focused on me through the slits in his cage.Motherfucker.
I ignored him, watching the match.
He smirked. “You’re not even denying it? I have to admit, she looks like a decent fuck. I’d tit-fuck her, at the very least… And hey, maybe I will after you, if I ever end up at this shithole school. She give out good grades for being left in a puddle of cum, or do you have to get her off, too?”
My mask of indifference was cracking. Ari was my fucking kryptonite, and by Brody’s goading expression, he knew it.
“You passing her around the team? I’ll get in on that… maybe later tonight.”
All the games I’d played and kept my cool, all the pressure I had about my dad and his parole and Cole… all of it boiled up inside me, and I snapped. I absolutely fucking lost it.
I went for him.
I lunged for him and grabbed him by the jersey, spinning us around and back until we met the boards with a hard smack. Thepartition shuddered, and the crowd gasped. I took my gloves off, tossing them onto the ice, and hit Brody right in his asshole face, again and again. Beckett reached me first, ripping me off him, but I was pushing him away and diving back in immediately, even as the rest of my team joined the action. They jumped on Brody, making him disappear under a sea of bodies and taking him away from my vengeful fists. The rest of the opposing team joined the fray.
“Marcus!” Asher shouted in my face.
I stared through a red mist so thick I could barely see through it. He grabbed me by the helmet and forced my bloodthirsty gaze away from Brody. His brother, Callahan, was in the mix now, throwing elbows that left players spitting blood. It was an all-out brawl. I spat on the ice, too, blood filling my mouth.
