Attention locked on the ice, I find the anger I need to play my best. It’s directed at myself, but it’ll do. Any anger gives me the edge I need.
By the end of the period, we’ve tied it up. As the ice crew comes out to clear the ice, we skate to the exit and make our way to the locker room, where Coach beelines directly for me.
Going almost nose to nose despite the three inches my skates give me, he demands, “Do I need to pull you?”
“No! I’m in.”
With his eyes locked on mine, I can see the questions lurking in his. Being late isn’t like me. Missing a play like that definitely isn’t. But he’s trusting me.
The second period starts, and I attack the ice, the Torches, and even the puck, sending it sailing back to the other end at one point. It’s an icing call, but the boom of a puck banging off the glass almost fifty yards away brings people to their feet.
The cheers from the crowd fade into nothing as my focus locks onto the puck and the players on the ice. The world doesn’t exist outside the rink. Me and my teammates. Rotate in, rotate out, defend our ice, and make plays on the Torches’ goal.
“Griffin!”
It’s not my name that breaks through the fog. It’s the sound of Penny’s voice shouting my name in a tone that has nothing to do with cheering me on. She sounds ... scared, and that sends a jolt of terror through me.
I lift my head, and though she’s standing with the ice crew, I find her instantly. She points above her head at the crowd. I don’t know why at first, don’t see anything amiss. And then ...
I see them. Miles’s goons are working their way down the aisle, getting closer to Penny. It doesn’t look like they’ve seen her yet since she’s blocked from view in the tunnel under the stands, but they’re looking for her. One even gestures toward the Hawkette stage with a jerk of his chin.
“Fuck.”
I need to get her out of here. Now.
But I’m in the middle of a game. I don’t know what to do.
Like fate heard my plea, Jenkins intercepts a deflected pass meant for Brody to try to break away for another go at our goal. Not this time. I bodycheck him hard and fast, completely unprompted, and he falls to his ass, spinning out on the slippery ice.
The crowd roars, surging to their feet to better see the unexpected fight, and two refs skate up, whistles blaring. But it’s not enough. I need off the ice.
I throw my gloves and shout, “Who’s tired now, fuck stick? Come on. Get up, Jinx.”
Jenkins hates that nickname, and he heaves himself up, throwing his gloves too. He’s not their enforcer, he doesn’t normally fight, but in a blink, we’re going at it. I need this to happen faster, so I throwone straight for his temple, knowing it’ll get me the five for fighting that I want.
Whistles scream by my ear, and I push Jenkins away, looking expectantly to the ref. “Major penalty, five minutes.”
Perfect.
I don’t bother glaring at Jenkins. He had nothing to do with that fight and was just the unlucky target closest that’d I could hit and get off the ice. As a ref escorts me to the penalty box, my eyes stay locked on Penny. I jerk my head, telling her to come here.
Is that allowed? No. Talking to players in the sin bin will get us both in trouble. But she ducks down and gets as close as she can.
Go to the locker room. Get out of here before they see you.I mouth the words and point down the tunnel back toward the locker room, where there is security that will keep the goons away from her.
She shakes her head, her brow furrowed as she looks around like I don’t know it’s the middle of a game. “I can’t leave.”
The fuck she can’t.
But she doesn’t know what she’s up against. For everything I told her today, I stupidly still haven’t told her that the guys who’re after that ring work for Miles Conniver. She doesn’t understand the danger.
“You good, Honey?” the box attendant asks.
No. I’m not. I’m about to do the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Which tracks because, of course, it’s Penny driving me to madness.
I stand, dropping my stick, gloves, and helmet before grabbing the top of the plexiglass wall that surrounds the penalty box and bench area to vault myself up and over. The crowd closest to the box reacts instantly, cheering and saying, “Whoa.” But they don’t matter. Only Penny does.
Her eyes widen as I come barreling toward her, my skates clattering on the concrete. Grabbing her arm, I push her. “Come on. You have to get out of here.”
