Page 363 of Branded
But I had bigger issues.
I exited the locker room, taking the quickest path to the training suite, which happened to take me by the elevators…
And by Lake Jordan.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snapped.
Irritation in the big fucker’s eyes. “Don’t come at me, Castillo. I’ve got a friend coming down and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Okay, yeah, our battles on the ice tended to be contentious.
But this was more important—Jules and Ethan were more important than any interaction on the ice, even if Lake was one of those guys everyone hated playing against (though they didn’t mind if he was on their team).
“Who’s your friend?” I demanded.
A laugh that was less amused and more pissed off. “None of your fucking business, that’s who.”
And that was when I lost the thin tendril of control that was keeping my temper in check. I flew forward, gripping Lake around the throat, shoving the other man into the wall. “Who. The fuck. Is. Your. Friend?” I growled.
“What the fuck, man?” Lake snapped, grabbing at my wrist, trying to yank my hand off.
Wasn’t going to happen.
Wasn’t going to happen.
“Who is your friend?” I gritted. “Is it a woman?”
Lake froze, hand tightening enough around my wrist that swear to fuck, I felt my bones practically grinding together. “What the fuck, man?” he said again.
“Is it Jules?” I growled.
Lake’s fingers spasmed, sending a bolt of pain up my arm, but I didn’t release him, especially when Lake asked, “How do you know Jules?”
My response was visceral. “She’s mine.”
Another spasm. Another jolt of pain. “What?”
“She’s mine.”
Lake moved then, breaking my hold like it was nothing, and I was reminded all over again that he was a big fucker. A strong fucker. “How is she yours?” he asked, frost in his tone and his face in mine.
“I love her,” I snapped, shoving him back. “And Ethan, too.”
“So why the fuck is she here?” Lake swept a hand out.
I clenched my jaw and did some sweeping of my own. “The bigger question is why the fuck are you bringing her down here?” I snapped. “Closer to that asshole?”
Lake went still again. “Nate is so far up his own ass that he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to anyone but himself.” His big chest rose and fell on a breath. “And I asked her down here because I needed to make sure she and Ethan are okay, and”—he stopped, his tone less granite and more controlled—“I need to give her something.”
Yeah, I bet he did.
“She doesn’t need your money,” I snapped.
She didn’t need any other connections to Lake, to Nate, to that whole fucking team.
I had her now, had them both now.
“She’s on her own?—”
