“She’s scent matched to my pack.” I pick up my glass and raise it to Matteo. “Your star defender for the Scorpions is in love with her.”
“And you think ending the love affair with a shotgun is going to improve his gameplay?” Enzo’s face morphs into the beginnings of calm fury.
“No. You don’t get my meaning.” I want to finish off my drink, but I push it away an inch. “She’s with her father and bad things are happening.”
Enzo stabs out his cigarette. “‘Bad things’ can cover quite a lot of territory.”
“Yeah. The kind of bad things that can happen to a girl, an omega, when the men in her life are desperate.”
Enzo physically bristles, and Matteo makes a disgusted noise.
“And the name of this upstanding citizen?”
“His name is Randal Voss.”
Enzo snaps his head to Matteo. They have a long, completely silent conversation of raised eyebrows and head shakes. I have no idea what passed between them, but it ends with Matteo letting out a low whistle and sitting back in his chair.
Tapping another cigarette out of his pack, Enzo lights it and tops my glass off again, like he knows however this conversation ends, I’m going to need to be drunk.
“Why don’t you just take the girl? If she’s scent matched to your pack, the law will come down on your side.”
“You think a man like that will ever let go of something so valuable? Sometimes closure needs to be complete.” I speak slowly; I don’t want my words to slur at this point.
Enzo clamps his teeth around his cigarette and stands to straighten his cuffs. The diamonds on his cufflinks are understated, unlike that guy’s earrings. He fills my glass one last time and puts the bottle far from my reach.
“Finish your drink, then I’ll have one of the boys take you home. There’s two things I can’t abide, one is drunk driving. Senseless waste of life.”
“What about Randal Voss?” I pick up the glass but don’t drink. If I finish this, I’m going to have a life-altering headache in the morning.
“Someone’s already holding that chit.”
What the fuck does that mean?
He moves toward the door, clapping a few shoulders along the way.
“Hey, what’s the other thing? The other thing you can’t abide?” I raise my voice just enough to be heard over the soft chatter and shuffling cards.
Enzo stops by the door and inspects the glowing ember of his smoke. “Sex traffickers,” he says without looking at me, and then steps out the door.
Matteo shuffles the cards one last time. He knocks the edge of the deck twice on the felt-topped table. There’s something final about that, like a judge’s gavel sealing the death penalty.
“Tony will get you home,” he says with a wink and follows his boss out.
I take another sip and sit back in my chair to let myself enjoy the whisky buzz for just a minute before it tips me into full-blown drunk.
Chapter forty-eight
BECKETT
Myskatesbiteintothe ice, carving perfect half-moons with each crossover. The empty practice rink echoes with nothing but the blades. It’s like I’m a rookie in camp again. I push harder, legs burning as I accelerate into another sprint drill. My lungs feel raw. Good. It helps shut my brain up.
I drive myself into another sprint, pushing until my quads scream. I should be resting. This is supposed to be a day off. We need one more win, and then the playoffs; the cup could be ours. It’s dumb to risk injury, but I have to move or I’m going to hate myself for getting into it with Pierce last night. Things have been tense and messed up, but that doesn’t justify taking a swing at him.
I skid to a stop at center ice, breathing hard. Sweat trickles down my face, cold against my overheated skin. I bend forward, hands on my knees, and let myself feel the exhaustion.
“Nice ass, Hansen. Still looks cute under all those pads.”
My head snaps up. Pierce stands in the players’ box, leaning on his forearms. He looks like hell. Dark circles under his eyes, yesterday’s clothes rumpled like he slept in them. Maybe he didn’t sleep at all. And he’s still fucking hot.
