Page 86 of Faking it with the Billionaire
“Fitzgerald’s brother.”
Bile roils through my stomach, making me nauseous as it churns again and again. I’m grateful I didn’t put anything else in there this morning. I haven’t even had coffee yet. This day keeps getting better and better.
“What the hell do you mean? His brother was behind the threats to Bristol?” I ask, staring at Em.
“James Fitzgerald.”
My stomach drops athisname. I should have realized the connection. Maybe I didn’t want to see it? “He plays for the Bruisers,” I snarl, disgusted at the man who would think it’s acceptable to threaten a six-year-old girl.
Sure, we hockey players make threats on the ice, get into fights during a game, but we never go after anyone’s kids.
That’s a line that should never be crossed.
“Who the fuck does that?” I growl, “Threaten a kid?” I’m steaming, and I want to punch someone’s face. Right now, the closest target is the owner and his brother, Brent Fitzgerald.
Emerson doesn’t let me skirt past her in the hallway. She’s small but mighty as she blocks me squarely, not letting me pass. “You’ll regret it,” she says. “There are a half-dozen cops ready to have your ass arrested if you try anything.”
“It’s his fault! Fitzgerald gave his brother access,” I seethe between clenched teeth. My top lip twitches in a snarl, and my hands ball into fists at my sides.
“We’re going for a walk,” Emerson says, and grabs my arm, dragging me in the opposite direction down the hallway.
“Let go of me,” I snap and yank out of her hold. “He deserves—”
“What does he deserve, Kyler?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine, never wavering. “Do you want to punch him? Is that it? Beat the crap out of him? Then what?”
My jaw ticks, but my silence is all I can give her without shouting and storming past her for Fitzgerald’s office.
“I want to kill him,” I growl, unafraid to voice my anger. She knows the fear that’s rattled me for the past several months while I’ve been worried about my daughter.
“You’re not the only one,” she says, but her voice is softer, calmer. She takes my hand, intertwining our fingers together. Her touch is soothing, and I exhale a ragged breath, the anger slowly dissipating from her touch alone.
Dammit.
“The police are going to want to talk to you,” she says.
“I know. I’ve already told them everything I know.” I lean against the wall and shut my eyes. “The league is going to kick me out.”
“What?” Em’s fingers graze my cheek, and my eyelids slowly flutter open, staring down at her. Her body is just inches from mine, trapping me against the wall.
“It’s against the league’s rules to throw a game,” I say.
“You didn’t have a choice.”
“Sure, I did. I could have gone to the police months ago when the first threat was delivered. Instead, I hired a bodyguard and followed through with what the notes demanded of me.”
Her gaze tightens, and she presses her lips together. “But you love hockey. What are you going to do if the league doesn’t let you play?”
TWENTY-TWO
EMERSON
I headto the locker room to find Bristol while the league is interviewing Kyler. I give a firm knock. “You guys better be decent,” I say, pushing open the door.
Bristol is seated on the bench, giggling when she sees me enter with my eyes half-covered. I’m peeking through my hands, making sure I’m not about to walk into something I can’t unsee.
But given the fact a six-year-old girl is hanging out in the locker room, I’m assuming it’s okay for me to come in.
“How’d it go?” Jasper asks. He’s seated next to his niece, and they’re knee-deep in a mean game of hand slap.
