Chapter 1
Jamal King
No lie, the stomach flip-flops are heavier than the first time I stepped into the practice facility. Then it was unknown nerves, but nowhe’llbe here. The man who, despite having every single privilege life has to offer, has made me his enemy.
Theo O’Keefe.
I had to get my mind right for dealing with him, so I watched tons of his tapes. It turns out he’s not a dirty player. He saves all his vengeance and worst hits for me.
Me. The one who was done bad.
“King.” Ace, our team captain, pulls me out of my head and greets me with a smile and a fist bump. He isn’t a hugger, and I appreciate that.
“You’re skating today?” I ask, surveying his locker with all his gear.
“You don’t have to,” he assures me. “But I need to skate after my vacation.” He’s tan, sporting a wide grin along with his cheerful blue eyes. After his concussion a few months ago, he needed a break.
I nod and throw my wallet and keys into my locker. I’m already dressed in workout gear.
The locker room’s pungent smell is a firm reminder that not everything will change. I hate that I understand why Ace asked me to come to the new-player practice today. Because ofhim. Ace wants to ensure we won’t be a problem for the team. Of course, he’s too diplomatic to say that.
To prepare for O’Keefe, I’ve done breathing exercises and stretches to calm my parasympathetic nervous system. My team deserves my best, and Iwillkeep my shit tight.
“Are we ready for some hockey!?” Benz bounds into the locker room with all his golden retriever energy. He’s my exact opposite. His face expresses his every emotion, and his mouth does not stop moving.
I’ve got nothing but love for the man, but he can be exhausting.
“Kingy, King, King!” Benz sings and rushes at me with open arms and no regard for my personal space, his round cherub face pink with excitement.
I thump his back and pull away.
“You missed me, didn’t you?” He keeps an arm around me.
“Bet.” Knowing he’ll move on in a minute, I don’t step out of his embrace.
“Ace! You’re back.” Benz careens into Ace, lifting him off the floor in a hug.
Ace chuckles. “It shouldn’t be a surprise since I asked you here.”
“Wait!” Benz shouts, covers his eyes, and flaps a hand in Ace’s direction. “Is that what I think it is on your finger?”
A black band inlaid with diamonds twinkles on his ring finger in the bright lights.
Theo O’Keefe leans on the doorframe, listening and watching. My muscles tense, but I’m the only one who notices him.
Benz jumps on Ace. “Congratulations!”
“Gray and I want to tell everyone together. Can you keep our secret for a few days?”
Benz switches into serious goalie mode. “You can count on me, captain.”
“It sounds so festive in here,” O’Keefe says with condescension. “I thought you’d be seriously somber after losing to Boston in the playoffs last year.” Only O’Keefe would rub our noses in the loss to his old team while introducing himself.
He saunters in like this is his locker room. His chiseled jaw and prominent cheekbones give him a haughty air that fits his personality to a T.
He’s objectively good-looking if you like a blond, green-eyed, stick-up-your-ass type of man. Which I do not.
Ace’s jaw ticks, but he extends his hand. “Welcome to the Enforcers, O’Keefe. We can’t be all bad since you came here.”
