I kept my tone light. “You hear anything about Beckett Rylan maybe jumping ship? Word around here is Marchand’s rolling out the red carpet. Thought the Vultures were riding him all the way to finals, but hey—maybe he’s got other plans?”
A pause.
Then a quiet, “Wait, what?” Oh, I had Brina’s number. There was definitelyrelishin her voice despite the way she tried to smother it.
“Oh yeah,” I said, oozing charm like syrup over a blade. “He’s up in the owner’s box right now. Marchand’s being all mysterious. Wouldn’twantanyone to think he was stabbing his current team in the back, though... unless, y’know, there’s a contract already signed. Then it’s old news.”
Another pause. The sharp indrawn breaths, and equally harsh exhales betrayed her excitement. Yes, Brina was panting after the story the same way she did when I had edged her orgasms.
“...I’m gonna need to make a few calls.”
Huh. That was wild. Normally the sound and the thought it provoked would entice me. She was fun enough in bed, but nope… My dick didn’t even twitch. Weird.
Still, I grinned. “Appreciate you. Lunch on me if it hits the wire first.”
Click. She didn’t even bother to respond. Just hung up.
Roan looked like he wanted to strangle me. “You didn’t just do that.”
I slid the phone into my pocket. “Relax—I didn’t say a thing. Just asked a question.”
“You dropped a bomb.” Roan’s voice went quiet and hard, the kind of quiet that smells like war. Being alpha didn’t mean we were above trying to throttle each other; it just meant we could usually laugh about it later. I wanted to sock him—good-natured rage, not lethal.
“Not my fault if it blows up,” I said, like it was the most casual thing in the world.
Jay let out a low whistle, half-impressed. “If Beckett doesn’t have a contract yet, he’ll be pissed.”
“Good.” I didn’t want that douchecanoe back on the ice or the team or anywhere that brought him near us much less Wren. Then again, if I accidentally broke his ass during practice…
Roan was already shaking his head, but I didn’t miss the glimmer of reluctant approval in his eyes. Just for a second.
Sure, maybe I crossed a line. That was on me. I’d take the fallout from it.
But I also wasn’t going to sit around while Marchand played chess withherlike she was just another piece on the board. I used to think he was a tough alpha, a tough businessman, and even tougher owner.
I used to respect the hell out of him too. But the past couple of years?
I’d started to notice how often he pulled Wren in to “fix” things. Not just clean up our image or our statements or our messes. The last person I’d expected to see in the midst of our post-playoff win orgy two years prior had been Wren, but thereshe was walking through that minefield of hedonistic scents in her prim skirt, button-down blouse and jacket so straight and pressed that it practically threatened any wrinkle that wanted to muss her up.
The attraction that hit me at that moment had been delivered with a mallet.
The protectiveness that followed it, though, had threatened to drown me. How dare Marchand pull her into that… How dare he bring her somewhere she might have been mistaken for the entertainment…
I’d abandoned my partner mid-coitus and strode across the room, dick still wet, and the look Wren had favored me with had almost made my balls shrivel up into my body. Most guys would probably have crawled off with their tail between their legs, I was made of a lot sterner stuff.
Or maybe I was just stubborn as fuck. I’d grabbed a towel, wrapped it around my waist and become her shadow to keep her safe until she was done.
No one was allowed to touch her. Not then. Not now.
I’d kill Beckett Rylan first.
No ands, ifs, or buts about it.
“So…” Jay said slowly. “Lunch?”
Chapter
Four
