“Can Thatcher stay with you? His condo burned down, and he has this weird thing with hotels…”
“Just don’t let him have any candles, okay?”
Teddy’s warning echoes through my mind like a shot, and I’m pulling Thatcher behind me once again. It’s the last place I want to put him, but it’s impossible to deny it’s the safest for us all at this point.
“On third thought, I think you’d rather not be so far from the main rooms of the house. Donotburn any candles.”
Finally, we arrive back closer to where we started, and he seems hesitant to make any comments in case I move him again.
“Bathroom is through there. I’ll make sure everyone knows this is your room so they can bring your things. The only rule with this room is not to open the door over there.” I point at the wall opposite the bathroom. “Otherwise, make yourself at home.”
He’s eyeing me with a clearer gaze now, and I can tell he’s sobering up a bit after our trek back and forth through the house.
“Will I be seeing a lot of you while I’m here? Misha mentioned you’ll be training the—”
“No, you won’t.”
“Oh.” His sad puppy face might make a lesser woman feel guilty for being so curt, but regardless of what Misha says, an energetic shadow is the last thing I need right now.
“Or at least, I’m hoping you won’t. I’ll be on the property, but my to-do list is a mile long.” As Thatcher continues looking at me with his freshly sober eyes, I note that although I’m dressed in my usual comfy spy wear, he’s still just wearing his Speedo. His Speedo that’s currentlynothiding much. I have to get out of here. “Anyway, that’s all. Don’t forget, the only rule is don’t open that door.”
I turn to leave as he calls out his thanks, only to remember that there are actually two rules. “Also, no candles!” Finally, I’m alone in my room, door closed, and my Thatcher problem handled. Breathing a sigh of relief, I move to unwrap my braid when I hear the unmistakable click of a door opening behind me. Turning to face the wall opposite my bed, the dimples that greet me are those of a man far too pleased with himself.
Who’s opened up the fucking connecting door between our rooms when I explicitly told him not to, not even ninety secondsago. If…no, I’m not even thinking about that. But if…I would spank his ass raw.
I’m deciding how to respond when he breaks the silence, and it becomes crystal clear that Thatcher Prescott will not be ignored while he’s here. Even if I couldn’t see his face, the smirk is evident in his tone.
“Hiya, roomie!”
“Good. Your explosion is excellent, as I’m sure you already know. But your energy efficiency needs work. You’re giving 100 percent too much of the time, something that your coach probably appreciates for your shorter shifts. I can teach you how to move smarter, not harder, so that your 80 percent is just as lethal as your 100 percent, and—”
“Lethal?”
“I mean, whatever the hockey equivalent of lethal is. Goal-scoring, on-target, whatever you call it.”
Misha’s the best teacher I’ve ever met, and he’s been taking people under his wing since the moment we arrived in the States. For all his talk aboutmecatching strays, he’s worse by far. His patience seems endless, and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen him lose it. In the business world or the gym, at least. Inotheraspects of his life, Misha has been known to keep people on much shorter leashes.
“Exactly like that. Now, focus on your deceleration into the next pattern, without wasting so much energy. If you shift a bit earlier, you’ll be able to…”
It’s clear why Thatcher has been so successful on the ice, even from just a few minutes of watching Misha train him. The agility courses that we drill our men on are meant to represent amore strenuous environment than they’ll encounter in the field. One of our men compared the course to “trying to get into theHome Alonehouse,” whatever the fuck that means. But if you encounter a viper, a sheer cliff, and sniper fire during a training run, it makes running into any one of the three in real life a walk in the park.
This early on, I think Teddy was still struggling with the incline climb. Then again, he’s a goalie, and his build is different from Thatcher’s. Where Teddy is broad, Thatcher is lithe. He’s still solid muscle, not quite as tall as Teddy but taller than average. His waist is trimmer, and even though Teddy is in excellent shapefor a goalie,Thatcher’s role as a quick goal scorer is clear from his physique.
“Well?” Misha sidles up to me, sipping water from a bottle before pouring the rest over his head.
“Well, what?”
“Do you believe me now about him holding his own?”
Thatcher’s taking part in a team trial now, with Kirill, Timofey, and another soldier. The course requires every ounce of all four men’s strength to complete, and it’s a new wrinkle in Misha’s training program. Our old space wasn’t big enough for such elaborate setups, and I know he’s already called to tell Teddy that Thunder Bay needs an expansion as soon as possible.
“He’s good. Better than Teddy this early on. But he’s leaner, so I’m notthatsurprised.”
Misha shrugs noncommittally. “On the agility stuff, sure. He’s no slouch from a pure strength standpoint either, and he has core strength that might rival mine one day. Not that I’d ever admit that tohim, of course. And he’s a natural leader.”
“Hmm.” No matter how much I want to deny it, his physical prowess and ability to ingratiate himself into a team are impossible to deny. Misha’s keen eye, however, has misread one key aspect of Thatcher’s personality that I picked up onimmediately. There’s a reason I’m the boss, after all, and it’s notjustmy pedigree.
He barks out instructions for the next set, and we watch as the teams merge, immediately going on defense against a fresh set of men entering the course. Then he gestures for me to explain my equivocal response.
