“Griffin,” she argues over me.
I don’t have time for this. My five minutes is going to be up soon, and I have to be ready. The only way to do that is to have Penny somewhere safe.
So I scoop her up, throwing her over my shoulder. My gear is hard plastic and probably poking her, but there’s no time for comfort. Besides, she’s kicking her feet and slapping at my back anyway, so I don’t think she’s looking for a cushy first-class-level ride.
“Put me down!” Her cry echoes through the tunnel, but when I start jogging down the padded floor toward the locker room, it changes to an angrier, “Don’t drop me!” as she grips around my waist, hanging on for dear life.
At the locker room’s door, I lower Penny to the ground and lock eyes with the security guard standing there. “Tim, nobody gets in other than Hawks. And don’t let her out either.”
“What?” he asks, confusion marring his usually jovial face. He’s a retired cop, but he’s still got the instincts in there somewhere.
“The fuck?” Penny finishes, slapping at me.
And though I can’t feel it through my padding, I whirl on her, grabbing her hands to stop her. “Penelope. They’re looking for you and they’re here. That means they know you’re a Hawkette.”
Her face goes slack as the blood drains. “I saw them at the post office today. They were trying to get my address, but I don’t think they did.”
Holy shit! She didn’t tell me that!
Like you didn’t tell her about Miles?
“Stay here,” I order. Thankfully, she nods her agreement. I press a quick kiss to her lips, give Tim a glare ofdon’t fuck this up, and tear off back down the tunnel toward the ice.
I hop over the wall and back into the penalty box with half the goddamn bench and arena looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. Which makes sense, because I have. You don’t leave in the middle of the game unless you’re forced to or sports med takes you out. “Ahhh ... yourfive’s up,” the attendant says, opening the gate. Guess they decided not to penalize me again.
I hit the ice like a demon-possessed monster, ignoring Coach as he screams for me to rotate off the fucking ice, goddamn it. I don’t have anger filling me now. It’s cold dread mixed with hot fear, and the combination isn’t something warm and toasty but rather an explosive need to fuck shit up. And since I can’t go into the crowd and attack the goons, the Torches will have to do.
Still, I do a quick scan of the crowd, finding the goons easily. They’re smooshed into two seats beside each other, just below the cheerleaders’ stage. And while they’re watching the game, they’re spending an inordinate amount of time turning around, looking for Penny up onstage.
“The fuck was that?” Dom shouts over his shoulder as he flies by, his eyes watching the action as Jacofovich fights to get a clear angle on the Torches’ goal.
“Later,” I snap back.
Jack Off shoots and scores, putting us one up. While the crowd cheers and Jack Off does a tight victory lap around the net, the crowd laughs at something I can’t quite make out. I glance up to the jumbotron and see that they’re replaying me jumping out of the penalty box, throwing Penny over my shoulder, and running down the tunnel with her. Thankfully, it only shows her face for a split second, and when I quick cut my eyes at the goons, they seem to have missed it.
But Dominic didn’t miss anything. He may have missed it live, focused on defending the Torches’ power play, but he sees the replay, and is putting pieces together in real time.
“I can explain,” I rush to tell him, holding my hands out.
But he’s a freight train that won’t be stopped. “You son of a bitch!” he snarls. Before anyone can react, he’s on me. My best friend—hell, my only real friend—is beating the shit out of me.
His gloves are gone, his bare fists pummeling my body. With a sharp smack, my helmet’s gone and he’s landing punches on my face.Knowing I deserve it, I take every single one. I don’t block them, I don’t duck, I simply let him destroy me, leaning back against the boards so I don’t go down to take a knee or a blade to the face.
Bam!I feel my nose crack and blood run down my lip.
Bam!My jaw takes a shot, and red-tinged spit flies onto the ice.
Bam!I lurch forward as he uppercuts my gut.
Whistles are blaring loudly, fans are screaming, and I can feel hands on us, other Hawks clearing the bench to try to pull us apart.
Finally, they manage to separate us, but I think, to everyone’s surprise, it’s Dominic they’re trying to control. The refs confer for a long time as the trainer holds a towel to my face. Sure, we were fighting, but fighting your own teammate? How do they deal with that? Coach is arguing that it’s an internal thing, that at most a refusing-to-start-play bench penalty is all that’s required, but the refs shake their head, and I can hear them. “Lee, Mahoney, game misconduct. Both are ejected.”
“But—”
“Be glad I don’t make it a match penalty, Coach!” the ref says, and Coach shuts up. He’s right, that would incur an automatic suspension for both me and Dom. We probably don’t deserve a match penalty, especially since, as Coach said, it was between teammates, but I’m not going to argue with it because this is one fucked-up situation no matter what.
Dominic and I are escorted to the edge of the ice by two refs and half the Hawks between us as human shields, with marching orders to keep going to the locker room. And though Dom’s the one that went ballistic, Coach is glaring at me. He knows I’m the loose cannon, and if steady-as-a-surgeon Dom gave me a beatdown, I deserved it. That talk with him is shaping up to be a fucking doozy.
