Razor Chambers burst out laughing. “Tori’s going to die when she sees you like that.” Tori was what he called his wife, Viktoriya. She was a Russian woman he’d married over the past summer. They both claimed it wasn’t just so Viktoriya could get a green card.
Sometimes I believed them, other times not so much. These days, I fell more in line with believing them, though, especially after he’d insisted they have a proper Russian wedding even though they were already married. Besides, the immigration officials had decided to rush all the paperwork through once word had gotten out that her family were victims of the Russian Mafia, so I figured that was good enough for me.
She couldn’t ever go home again—a sobering thought. I’d been looking out for her since he’d brought her back to Tulsa. Making sure Razor didn’t treat her like shit, because enough other men had already done that.
Turned out he was all right, though. Despite myself, Razor was growing on me. Especially because Viktoriya loved him, for whatever reason.
Since I actually liked Razor, I decided to answer him instead of Drew. I shrugged. “Decided it was time to shave.”
“Since this morning?” Razor replied, laughing. “Holy hell.”
I’d shaved my beard after morning skate in lieu of taking a pregame nap. There wasn’t a chance I was going to be able to sleep, anyway. I hadn’t heard from London since her brother had picked her up at my house two days ago. I’d called every number I’d been able to get my hands on for the guys involved with the Para-Pythons, but no one would tell me a fucking thing. They wouldn’t give me her number, her address, tell me where she worked. Nothing.
If she wanted you to have her number, she would’ve given it to you, they kept telling me. Back the fuck off, before we decide to make you back off. A couple of them made sure I was aware that they’d have no problem arranging for my accidental death if I didn’t take their hints. Given their history with the military, I was inclined to take them at their word.
Even though I knew she didn’t need anyone in her life being so overprotective, because she was more than capable of taking care of herself, a part of me was glad she had these men looking out for her in the same way I looked out for Viktoriya. Then there was the other part of me that wanted to do as bad to them, if not worse, because they wouldn’t give me London’s fucking number.
Now I had to somehow get my head back on straight so I could focus on playing hockey tonight. I had no idea how I’d manage that, since I hadn’t thought of anything but London since the moment her brother’s SUV had disappeared around the corner of my street. In fact, I’d almost jumped into my car and followed them.
Maybe I should have.
Hunter came into the room, headphones on and already getting into the zone as he took a seat in his stall to put on his gear. The other guys were still gawking at my painfully bare face.
I nodded my head in Hunter’s direction. “Tired of baby ripping my beard out. Time to shave it off.”
“Blaming it on the baby,” Drew said, shaking his head. “What’d she ever do to you?”
“Ripped my beard out,” I groused, stripping my tie off and tossing it into my locker.
“Well, Merry Fucking Christmas to you, too,” Razor said. “I didn’t think you could get any uglier, but it’s good to know I can be wrong sometimes.”
I tossed my bag in my stall and set about ignoring the guys, but they weren’t finished. Drew came over and rubbed his knuckles on my cheek. I glared until he took his hand back.
“Smooth as a baby’s butt. Who knew you had such soft skin under there, Dima? Bet the ladies’ll be glad that monstrosity’s gone. All that chafing between the legs…”
“He’s never with the same woman twice,” Ethan Higgins said, shaking his head. The guys all called him Huggy Bear because he was as big and mean as a grizzly, but he was also the last person anyone would want to hug. He was standoffish, always keeping to himself, and even surlier than me. That was saying something. “Moves on as soon as he learns their names.”
For the most part, he was right. I had been with London more than twice, though. I’d honestly lost track of how many times we’d been together in such a short amount of time. And, worse yet, I wanted to be with her again. That was the problem. I’d been sure I wanted her out of my life, but as soon as she was gone, I wanted her back.
I missed the way her scent wrapped itself around me and clung to my body, mixing with my own like we belonged together.
I missed the way her hair had tickled my nose when I’d held her that night when the power was out.
I missed seeing her in nothing but my T-shirt and boxers, her tits hard and poking through the soft fabric.
More than anything, I missed the way she’d grabbed hold of my beard and dragged me on top of her until I did what she wanted.
But I’d gotten rid of the beard. Because she’d wanted to see what I was hiding.
And she was gone.
I was a fucking mess.
And all because of a smart-mouthed, bossy woman I wasn’t even certain I liked.
Ridiculous.
Eventually, the guys stopped giving me shit over shaving my beard, and we all finished getting ready for the game. A group of them went out into the concourse to kick a soccer ball around to loosen up. I thought about joining them but decided not to. Being out there with them would only invite more comments about my baby face or something. Not what I was in the mood for.
Finally, it was time to take the ice for warm-ups. I followed Hunter and the rest of the guys out, with only our team captain, Eric “Zee” Zellinger, behind me. The Blues had come out a few moments before us and were already swarming the net in their end of the arena.
The stands were about half full, which was honestly a good turnout for us lately. Probably half of them were here to see the Blues, who were at the top of the league in the standings right now.
I skated through the line rushes and stopped occasionally to stretch, going through my usual pregame routine, but Sergei Dragomirov came over and started speaking to me in Russian.
“You see that kid?” Drago said, pointing up toward the back of the lower bowl.
I followed his gaze. I couldn’t make out the kid’s face, but I recognized the man standing next to him with his arms crossed. That was Wade Miller, one of the sons of bitches who had refused to give me any information about London. The kid in question was in a wheelchair and holding up a sign.
With my name on it.
I’ve got London’s number for you, it said.
I smiled, racking my brain to figure out how to get the number from this kid. Couldn’t stop myself from smiling, actually.
Drago elbowed me in the ribs. “Who’s London?”
She’s everything, I thought to myself. Then I shook my head, as though trying to shake that thought straight out of it. “Nobody,” I said, skating off for another rush at the goal with my line mates.
As soon as we headed back to the locker room after warm-ups, I found an arena worker and asked him to bring Miller and the kid down to talk to me after the game.
I didn’t have a clue what I would say to her when I called later. But at least now I could say it, whatever it was.
An odd, warm sensation spread through me at the thought of her. Something I hadn’t felt in a very long time.
It reeked of happiness to the point it made me want to puke.
WE LOST TO the Blues, but it should have been by a much wider margin than the two-to-one final score. Hunter, as usual, had held us in contention despite a constant barrage of shots coming his way from the Blues forwards.
Drew had scored our only goal, so the reporters had their mics shoved in his face as I made my way out of the locker room to where Wade Miller and the kid should be waiting for me. They were there—Miller with a permanent scowl and the kid grinning like he was seeing a unicorn.
I handed the kid a puck I’d signed for him, which only made his smile bigger. He looked like he might fall out of his
chair if he got too much more excitement.
“Thank you for coming. For getting London’s number for me.” I held out a hand to shake with Miller.
He didn’t take it right away. Eventually, he reached out and obliged, but he squeezed so hard it was like he was trying to crush my bones. “Don’t thank me. Thank London. I’m sure as hell not happy about it, but she seems to think it’s okay to give you her number. Doesn’t mean she wants to talk to you, though, so watch yourself.”
Point taken. I pried my hand free from his grip and reached out to shake with the kid. “Hello again,” I said.
“I still can’t believe you signed a jersey for me at the sled game,” he said, lifting the shoulder of the one he was wearing. “But you wouldn’t remember that.” He didn’t give me the chance to tell him I did remember. “Oh my God, I still can’t believe this is happening.” He whacked Miller in the ribs with the puck I’d given him. “It’s Dmitri Nazarenko! Right there, Wade. Do you see him?”
Miller rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I see him.” Then he turned to me. “Evan wanted the opportunity to talk to you again. Your friend, Sergei Mironov, is Evan’s biggest idol.”
“Sergei is, like, the best sled hockey player in the world. Ever. And he’s won a Stanley Cup, back when he could play stand-up hockey with you. But you know that. He’s done it all. You probably know that, too. He even came over and talked to me and shook my hand when he was here, which was the coolest thing ever. I’m still shaking from it, and it happened weeks ago.” Evan kept babbling for a few minutes, going on and on about how great Sergei was. All I could do was nod and agree with him. Sergei was a much better man than these guys would ever know, but that wasn’t what mattered. I’d have to call Sergei soon and tell him what an impression he’d made on this kid.
When Evan finally stopped to breathe, I took the opportunity to butt in. “So you have London’s number?” I said before the kid could gather up another head of steam.
“Oh. Yeah.” He fumbled around in his pocket, digging for it. Then he passed me a scrap of paper ripped from a spiral notebook. “Here you go. She said I should be the one to give it to you, because if she left it up to Wade, he might not do it because she doesn’t think he likes you.”
Miller grunted in acknowledgment.
The guy was honest. I had to give him that.
“Thanks,” I said, carefully slipping the scrap into my wallet. “Next time Sergei visits, I’ll let you know. Maybe you can play shinny or something.”
Evan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Holy shitballs, Batman. Are you serious?”
I took a few minutes to be sure he knew I was serious and to thank them again. Then I shook Miller’s hand one more time before taking off to rejoin the rest of the team for our flight to Toronto.
“Hurt her and I’ll fuck you up,” Miller said when I started to walk away.
“Not going to hurt her,” I said. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do with her, but I didn’t want to hurt her. Spank her, maybe, if I honestly thought that would do a damned thing to get her to shut her mouth sometimes. But not actually hurt her. Hell, spanking her would probably have the opposite effect of what I was going for, anyway.
“You sure about that? Because I can promise you, there are a lot of ways to hurt a person that don’t involve anything physical. I would know, since I hurt her before. She’s tough, but she’s not unbreakable.”
I turned around before I reached the door heading back into the locker room. “How you hurt her?”
“Didn’t mean to,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. “I just couldn’t let her in. Wasn’t ready for help. Wasn’t ready to care about myself, let alone to let someone else care about me. But I still love her in my own way, and I’m not about to stand to the side and let some other asshole come along and break her heart. You got that?”
“Don’t need help,” I said, hating the defensive tone in my voice.
“Sure. Whatever.” He took a couple of steps back toward where he’d left Evan. “You’re a freaking island of one, aren’t you? That’ll go over really well. You should know that London’ll see straight through that, though. And she won’t put up with it. It’s not in her nature. Especially not with her job…”
I knew she could see straight through me. And I knew she wouldn’t put up with me constantly pushing her away and telling her to stop asking me questions.
But I also knew I’d been a mess the last couple of days without her.
Her job, though? I wanted to ask Miller what he meant by that, but he’d turned and collected Evan, and they were heading out with the rest of the crowd. How the hell had I spent so much time alone with London without finding out a damned thing about her? I didn’t know where she worked or what she did. For that matter, I didn’t know she’d had a relationship with Miller at some point, or that he’d broken her heart. I didn’t know anything that mattered.
All I knew was that I wanted to be with her, and that the wanting had only continued to grow the longer we were apart. And being separated from her left all sorts of parts of me aching. Parts I’d been ignoring for years.
I didn’t like it.
I might dislike it more than being with her drove me crazy.
Fucking hell.
AROUND MIDMORNING ON Friday, my phone rang with a call from an unfamiliar number. It had to be Dima. Wade and Evan had let me know they’d given him my number that night after the game.
For a moment, I debated not answering. After all, I wasn’t in the mood to be called a bitch or told to shut up, or any of the other things he tended to do to start a fight with me, and since we weren’t together in person, things wouldn’t turn physical between us.
I didn’t make up my mind until the last ring before the call would go to voice mail, but I finally swiped my thumb over the screen and answered.
“Hello?”
Silence met me on the other end.
“Dima? Is it a bad connection or something?”
“Thought you would be at work,” he muttered.
“Or hoped I would be, at least.”
“Maybe.”
“So you wanted to leave me a message but not actually talk to me, is that it?” I wheeled myself into the kitchen and started fixing myself a snack, holding the phone between my cheek and my shoulder.
“Why you’re not working?” he asked in lieu of answering me, which shouldn’t be a surprise since that was how we always were with each other.
“My office is closed until after the New Year. I’ve got time off to do whatever I want.”
“So you’re with your family?”
“I’m back at my house now. I had all the family time I could stand for the time being.”
“You should be with your family.”
My ire already getting the best of me, I ripped open the refrigerator door and let the cool air wash over me. “And you should stop telling me what to do.”
“Family is important.” The way he said it reminded me that he didn’t have any family of his own anymore, unless you counted Sergei.
“I know that.” I grabbed a fruit-filled Greek yogurt and a spoon after staring in the open door of the fridge so long that half the cold air must be in the kitchen now instead of the machine. “My parents are coming over for dinner tonight. And I’m going with Gray to take the kids to the movies this weekend.” Somehow, I’d let my brother con me into it, but I couldn’t really say I minded. It gave me a good excuse to go see the latest animated flick. I always felt awkward when I went to see a kid movie alone.
“You have your car back yet?” he asked.
“Did you really call me to ask about my car and why I’m not spending every waking moment with my family?” I grumbled, wheeling back into the living room. I peeled back the foil cover and dug my spoon into the yogurt with so much force that some of it plopped over the edge of the cup. “Please tell me that’s not why you harassed my teammates until one of them finally gave in.”
&nbs
p; “You can’t answer a fucking question?”
“I don’t know why I should answer your fucking questions when you won’t ever answer mine.”
Dima let out a string of Russian words, most of which I couldn’t understand, but it didn’t take much imagination to come up with numerous colorful possibilities for interpretation.
“Yes, I’m still a fucking bitch,” I bit off, homing in on the one thing I had understood out of all that he’d said. “And you’re not here to shove your dick in my mouth to shut me up, so you’re going to have to either listen or hang up on me.”
“Trying to get to know you,” he shouted. “All you want to do is fight.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Dima. I’m sick to death of fighting with you. I’d thought we were done with that when I left your house. Hell, I’d thought we were done, but now you want to call me and fight over the phone?”
“Not trying to fight with you. I want to get to know you.”
“Why?” I demanded.
“Hell if I know.”
I took a moment to stir my yogurt, waiting impatiently for the pulse that was pounding through my veins to slow down. But maybe he had a point. Maybe he was trying to get to know me, not start a fight. We were both too volatile by half. I swallowed a spoonful along with a bit of my pride before speaking again.
“The police found my car about a hundred miles away,” I said once I’d calmed down enough to think clearly. “All the hand controls had been ripped out, along with the navigation system and the stereo. It’d been wrecked, too, so it looks like they took everything of value to sell on the black market.”
“So you have no car now.”
“No, but my insurance is paying for it to be replaced.” Or some of it, but I didn’t want Dima to know I was going to have to dip into my savings to pay for what the insurance wouldn’t cover. He still hadn’t admitted that he was the one behind the pro players who’d banded together and paid for my car to begin with. I wasn’t about to let him get some other crazy idea like that in his head. This was my mess, and I needed to be the one to get myself out of it. “Wade took me car shopping yesterday. I bought one, and I’ve got it in the shop now, being fitted with the modifications I need.”
Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) Page 13
