Page 84 of Chips & Checks
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I pad down the hallway with my empty ice bucket under one arm and a fistful of dollar bills in the other. I’m not all that hungry, but I could really go for a packet of cheese-and-peanut butter crackers and a couple of cold ginger ales. It’s not unusual for my stomach to act up on a road trip, especially not after a stressful game. If I get hungry later, I can always order room service.
I fill my bucket with ice and select my snacks, then turn back to my room to wait for Bowen to come up after the team finishes their pizza. An hour of peace and quiet sounds perfect. Maybe I’ll watch someAntiques Roadshow, or one of those house-flipping shows. At home, I stream exactly what I want to watch, but there’s something soothing about watching old HGTV or History Channel reruns in a hotel room.
I’m almost to the elevator when the door opens and Chad steps out.Shit. I force a smile on my way past. “Hey,” I say, even though Ihateturning my back on him. If I act like everything is normal, maybe I can just skate past.
But my legs are too short, and Chad’s stride is too long. He catches my elbow with his hand, forcing me to stop. “You saw my breakaway goal, right?”
I grit my teeth. “Mhmm. Sure did.”
Chad chuckles. “I mean… nothing much, it was just the game-winning goal that broke our losing streak.”
“Right. Congratulations.” I try to twist away from him, but he holds tight. “Nice work, but I gotta go. Bowen’s waiting for me.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve made a mistake. Chad’s still smiling, but there’s no humor in it. He crowds closer, still holding my arm. He doesn’tpushme, per se, but in my haste to get away from him, I end up stumbling into the weird little alcove alongside the elevator. It’s one of those strange architectural features that doesn’t quite make sense. Do the maids store their trolleys here, out of the way, when they’re not using them? Or did the person who designed the hotel not know what to do with this unsightly leftover floorspace and said,Fuck it, let’s include an alcove here, what else are we gonna do?
Regardless of its intended purpose, it’s become a cage for me, with too many walls and not enough space for me to slip by Chad and get away.
“Your little lap dog’s still eating pizza,” Chad says. “Besides, I need you more than he does. See, I seem to have twinged my groin. Again. And I thought you could come back to my room and treat it. We could order some food…”
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Don’t panic. If you panic, he’ll know he’s winning.I smile up at him, though I doubt I look any more amused than he does. “I’ll look at it some other time when we have access to the appropriate equipment and space. Can you please back up?”
Chad steps forward instead. My back hits the wall, and I jump. My grip on the ice bucket slips, and ice cubes goeverywhere. My heart pounds. Once again, I’m stuck in a corner, but there’s no one here, and I’m trapped. Chad’s already holding my elbow so hard that I’m sure it’s going to bruise—
His hot, rancid breath fans across my cheek until my stomach spasms.
“I bet he’s gentle with you, huh?” Chad sneers, his voice dropping to a predatory rasp. “All careful and sweet—like you’ll break if he fucks you too hard. But me? I’d have you crying on my cock in five minutes. You’d be begging for more, stuffed so full you couldn’t even walk straight. I’d make you forget his name, Vi. Hell, I’d make you forget your own.”
“Please, go away,” I whisper, but he doesn’t even acknowledge it.
His eyes rake over me, lingering where the fabric clings to my chest. “You really came out here dressed like that?” he murmurs, low and mocking. “No bra, tits bouncing like they’re begging for attention. I’ve wanted to get my hands on those since the first time I saw you—bet they’d fill both palms and still spill out. Bet you make the prettiest sounds when someone’s got their mouth on your nipples. Bet you’re loud when you come.”
There’s a distant ding and a crunch of ice, and suddenly Chad is ripped away from me. I take a breath so deep it sounds more like a sob.
“What the fuck, man?” Chad bellows.
Bowen shuts him up with a punch to the face. I’m not sure when Bowen got here, but thank God he did. I could kiss him right now if he weren’t actively pummeling Chad. The two of them roar at each other and fall backward, out of the alcove and into the hall, slipping on errant ice cubes as they go.
More voices call out, but I can’t move yet. I stand there with my arms wrapped around myself, shaking as the fear I didn’t let myself feel earlier catches up with me.
A sob escapes. Then another.
Footsteps. Heavy, fast. Then arms. Not Camden’s. Bowen’s. Big and shaking as they wrap around me, yanking me into his chest like he’s terrified I might vanish. He smells like sweat and fury, like cologne and hotel carpet and everything safe.
“Jesus, Vi.” His voice breaks. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Tell me you’re okay.”
I can’t answer. My throat’s closed up. But I fist my hands in his shirt and nod against him. He presses a kiss to the top of my head like a benediction, then lets his forehead fall against mine, breathing me in like he needs it to live.
“I should’ve killed him,” he whispers. “I swear to God, I almost did.”
“You didn’t,” I croak.
His jaw clenches. “Only because I saw you crying.”
There’s a thud and a shout. Viktor’s yelling something, and Sergio’s voice barks orders. Bowen gently shifts me behind him, shielding me with his body even as Sergio storms closer, barking like a man on the edge.
“Murphy! Room. Now. Or you’re benched for the foreseeable future.”
