by Lynda Aicher
“It’s for a good cause,” he said lamely.
“And you’re the king of supporting good causes.”
“Fuck off.” He gave Walters a shove and stole the puck that he’d retrieved from the net.
“You wussies ready to practice?” Henrik Grenick barged into the rink, his big frame cutting over the ice with the grace of a charging bull. The man wasn’t known for his finesse, but his brute strength made up for whatever he lacked in refined skill. He didn’t earn the nickname Steamroller by tiptoeing around the other players.
“I’ve been here for an hour, Roller,” Holden taunted. “While you’ve had your face buried in your girlfriend’s pussy.”
The man barreled toward him, a scowl etched into his forehead. “Better a pussy than the ass you’re getting.”
“Hauke’s getting ass?” Dylan Rylie chimed in as he hit the ice. Holden shot him a wink as he sprinted by. “Well, hell. How come everyone’s getting some but me?”
“Don’t tell me all the puck bunnies have abandoned you, Pretty Boy.”
Rylie flipped Walters off before he shoved his glove on and dove into the impromptu game of keep-away. Holden lined up with Walters and took off against the two defensemen. If he exhausted himself on the ice, his nights were easier.
Thoughts of Vanessa would stay at bay until she called. She had every night, even if it was only to tease him with her sexy voice and descriptions of what she was doing to herself. She called. That alone got him hard.
This was one slippery fall that was bound to hurt when his face cracked against ice, but he was long past stopping the descent. Long, long past.
Vanessa owned him and was very close to owning his heart too. She didn’t know that, but he did, and for now, that was fine. Someday it might not be, but that day wasn’t now.
Now he had a puck to steal and two defensemen to school. That was now.
* * *
The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as the ball sailed high into left field. The Flash fielder ran toward the wall, but it did no good. The ball easily landed in the stands, sending a swarm of fans scrambling for the souvenir.
The curses that rang around Vanessa had been pretty consistent throughout the long road trip. She glanced at the other occupants of the box suite and silently agreed with their sour faces. With the midseason break already past, the losing streak wasn’t welcomed by anyone sitting around her.
The jubilant roar of the announcers and corresponding music that blared from the speakers was well earned by the home team, and Vanessa didn’t begrudge them their celebration. However, the Flash were on their way to handing over their fifth game in a row. Not just losing, as the gnarly, disgruntled owner ranted three rows below her, but fucking giving their opponents the win with their poor play and errors.
She crossed her legs and sat back in the uncomfortable plastic seat. Her three clients were playing decent games, but the men weren’t at their best. She’d spent half the week dealing with the Mickels’s daddy claim. She’d proven it was a hundred percent false, thanks to the money slipped to the bar owner in exchange for the security tapes that monitored his office.
Discretion, manners, courtesy, brains—the four things she tried to hammer into all of her clients. Keep those in mind no matter what they did and most of the scandals could be avoided, even if they fucked jersey chasers until their balls turned blue.
That thought put a grin on her face. Holden’s balls had been a nice shade of blue in her playroom. Trussed up tight, they—he—had been perfect.
“Hey, Vanessa.” She glanced over as Bill Hower sat down in the seat next to her. “That’s quite the smirk you’re wearing. Thinking of anything good?”
She nodded. “I always have good thoughts.”
Bill tipped his head back, his burst of laughter overdone and forced. As a fellow PR agent, the stocky man was someone she dealt with and oftentimes endured, even if she didn’t particularly care for him. He’d been in the business longer than her, long enough to have a bitter edge that trickled into his dealings and attitude. But he was an excellent businessman who had even better contacts. If something was going down, Bill usually knew about it before anyone else.
“I just bet you do,” he said before brushing a hand through his hair that avoided being gray only due to his monthly dye jobs. His finger fluff did nothing to hide his retreating hairline, but it was a habit she’d been tracking for the last four years. It usually came out when he had a question to ask or a favor he needed.
She took a sip of her watered-down lemonade, patient. The shaded box didn’t prevent the heat from getting to them. Her cotton tank with the lace edging was professional and comfortable with her lightweight capris and heels. A classic business suit didn’t work at a ball game, but her summer-weight suit jacket was folded, waiting for her inside. She could watch from inside the enclosed air-conditioned portion, but it always sucked part of the experience out of the game for her. The atmosphere of the crowd, the scent of popcorn, hot dogs and spilled beer, the chatter and echo of the announcer was all part of the fun.
“So,” Bill said, the word drawn out. He shifted his bulk in the too-small seat, his gaze intent on the field below. “I hear there’s a hockey player checking out an interesting club in your area.”
A chill instantly swept in to send goose bumps over her arms. She kept her internal reaction hidden, the clenching of her stomach and the stutter of her heart known only to her. She tilted her head, brows arched in curiosity. “Really? Hum. I haven’t heard anything.” She changed her expression into concern. “Is it one of my guys?”
Bill shook his head, his eyes shifting to hers before he pretended interest in the game. There was no way he wasn’t monitoring her reaction. “No. But he’s been linked to something like this in the past.”
The bombshell that exploded within her didn’t penetrate her outer shield. “So why are you telling me?”
His shrug was casual. “I thought you might be interested.” He shot her another side glance before he took a sip of his drink. “I hear you were pretty influential in landing him his current team. I didn’t want to see your work thrown away.”
Her laugh was harsh and instinctive. “Right.” She shook her head, the sigh bit back before it escaped. “Rumors are everywhere. You know that better than most. It’s nothing until it’s proven.”
“True.” He glanced around. They were in the last row of the booth and the seats in front of them were empty, but there were ears everywhere. He leaned in. “That includes the ones about you. Watch your back, Vanessa. The vultures are circling.”
With that, he stood and moved across the aisle to sit next to the owner’s teenage son. The shock settled, every muscle turning to stone as the implications riffled through her mind. She didn’t trust Bill, but his warning couldn’t be ignored.
Connections were already tracking. Who, how, where, the potential impact and repercussions were all assessed. The temptation to fire off texts was strong, but not enough to override her preservation instincts. Bill was watching for her reaction, even if he seemed completely absorbed in the game and his discussion.
A crack rang through the air, a cheer following close behind. Vanessa tracked the rise of the ball, the high arc making it disappear in the glare of the sun before it dropped down to land in the glove of a Flash outfielder. She clapped, her cheer coming out automatically with the others around her.
She sat through two more innings, chatted with the people around her, checked in with the reporters scheduled for after-game interviews with her clients and kept a smile on her face. At last, she made her way to the restroom, where she finally let her shell crumble behind the safety of the closed stall door. Briefly, just a moment to suck in a shaky breath and squeeze her eyes shut.
In the next instant, her phone was out and texts were flying. One to Angie to get
an earlier flight. Another to Deklan and Rock about the security breach. A third was composed, but her thumb hung poised over the Send button before she shook her phone and deleted what she’d written. Holden didn’t need to stress about speculating gossip. It was more her problem than his.
Damn it. She pressed a hand over her mouth and breathed, long, slow inhales until the panic passed. She’d sort it out. Keep it all separate. Yet she couldn’t ignore the thread that had started her worlds colliding in the first place.
Holden.
Was he worth it? Was any man worth it? She’d always said no, but now...she didn’t know.
Shaking away the doubt, she straightened her shoulders and exited the stall. She’d shut down the club problem and that would be the end of it. Nothing to stress about. She was good at her job, and this little rumor was no different than the ones she fielded every week.
Lipstick reapplied, hair brushed, she headed back to the game. She had clients depending on her and reporters to round up. Her personal life wasn’t in play right now. Vanessa Delcour, PR rep, was front and center. The rest would wait.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I really can’t talk now, Liv.” Vanessa paced inside the parking garage, heels tapping out her slow pass in front of the elevator doors.
“This is quick,” her sister insisted, going on before Vanessa could cut her off. “I need some contacts for the fund-raiser. Do you know anyone who can build easy carnival games? Nothing fancy, but you know I suck with a hammer. The kids would love to help—”
“What about Holden?” Vanessa cut her off, getting to the solution.
“He’s gone next week and then his August time is spotty with his getting ready for the season.”
She sucked in a breath, straightening. Holden was gone next week? Had she known that? Why did that upset her?
“Any parents?”
“Right,” Liv scoffed. “If they had time they’d be watching their kids.”
Properly chastised, Vanessa slumped against the brick wall. The air was muggy with the scent of gasoline and oil that always permeated the space. Her suit jacket hung open and wrinkles marred her capris after the flight home. “I might know someone. I’ll get back to you.”
“You’re the best, sis. I owe you so much for all of this. The kids are already frantic for the event. They can’t wait to meet the players and show off to their parents and friends. They’re proud of the center. I guess I never really knew that until now.”
Yeah, it was a good thing Holden had started. Amazing, actually. It shamed her a little that she hadn’t thought of it herself or done something more to support her sister’s work.
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked, her voice heavy with her guilt.
“Well...”
“Spit it out, Liv.”
“Heidi’s been great with creating promo flyers and setting up the media stuff to get the news out. But I could really use someone to redo the center’s pathetic website.”
Of course she could. She dropped her head forward, the weight of it suddenly too heavy to hold up. Heidi was the head of the Glaciers’s PR team, but her job ended at the team. How appropriate that the people who could help Liv were waiting inside for her right now.
“Your timing is impeccable,” she told her sister.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I’ll get back to you.” She checked the time and pushed the elevator button. “I’m late for a meeting.”
“Love you, sis.”
“Love you too, sis.”
She ended the call as the doors swooshed open. The air seemed to clog in her chest during the short ride to the first floor. Or maybe her lungs were shrinking, her chest squeezing the space smaller and smaller until there was no room left for air.
“Hey, V,” Seth said when she stepped into the new conference room. A recent remodel had converted a portion of the old storage room that had also served as Jake’s workroom into a slick meeting room. Jake’s side business building custom BDSM equipment had outgrown the limited space and he’d opted to rent his own place in a building a block down.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, slipping into a free chair between Deklan and Noah. “And thanks for meeting on short notice.”
“Deklan filled us in while we waited,” Jake said.
“I’ve already nailed the leak,” Rock added before she could respond.
“Wow.” She sat back, a little stunned but not really surprised. “And?”
“It was Wes,” Deklan said. The terse words matched the defensive cross of his arms over his chest. “He works security.”
“And?” she prompted again.
“He’s a good man.” Deklan rubbed a hand over his mouth, he gaze skating to Jake and Seth before he continued. “I’ve talked to him, and he’s apologized. He needed money and was lured by the potential payoff.”
Shit. The ramifications shuffled through her mind at lightning speed. “Please tell me there aren’t pictures involved.” Her chest cavity was officially the size of a pea. Not that anyone at that table knew that.
“No.” Rock’s clipped answer allowed her to inhale again. “He was monitoring the cameras the day Holden came in for his interview. The video files are all encrypted and stored behind layers of passwords. But I’ve checked all of the feeds, outgoing mail and electronic stamps. There’s no trace of an image being stolen.”
She turned on Deklan, her relief morphing to anger. “I thought your men could be trusted.”
“They can,” he fired back. A muscle bulged along the tight clench of his jaw as he stared her down. He was one man she’d never want to meet in a dark alley, but she could hold her own here.
“Evidently not. My name was leaked, along with Holden’s.”
“He’s been reprimanded.”
“Not fired?”
“Hey,” Seth cut in over their rising voices. “Yelling at each other won’t help us. We all know the risks we take by owning this club.” His stare drilled into Vanessa, which made her bristle more. “I trust that Deklan is handling it. Does anyone else have an issue with Wes still being employed here?”
Marcus shifted in his chair. “I do a bit,” he said, glancing around the table. “It could’ve been Quinn’s name he leaked. She doesn’t need that kind of exposure. Not with the baby almost due.”
She’d completely forgotten Quinn was due any day. She’d been out of town for the baby shower and now she was spacing on the birth. Damn it. She didn’t forget important details like that.
“Legally,” Noah interjected, “the employee confidentiality agreement states this as grounds for being fired.”
“I fucking know that, all right?” Deklan sat forward and glared around Vanessa to their lawyer. “I’m not stupid. I believe the problem is solved and the man regrets what he did. It won’t happen again.”
“I never said you were stupid, Dek,” Noah replied, his voice nothing but calm. “I was just stating the facts.”
“Right.” The big ex-military man sank back, his arms folding over his chest. “Our members count on the confidentiality we provide. Wes fucked up and he knows it.”
“Why’d he do it?” Jake asked, bringing a bit of calm back to the room.
“His mom has cancer. Bills are adding up and he’s shouldering it all.”
He had to throw in the dying-mom card. Perfect. They’d all feel like shit if they kicked the guy to the curb now.
“I’ve taken him off the security room duty,” Deklan said, his voice weary. It was clear he’d taken this personally. “But I don’t want to cut him off. I’ve known him for twelve years. He’s reliable and a great guy at heart. Life got the better of him for a second, that’s all.”
“I agree with Deklan,” Rock said with a n
od. “The man’s solid. He had a weak moment, but I don’t see him repeating it.”
She longed to rub at the throbbing ache that pounded in her forehead, but she didn’t. Trusting her fellow partners was part of the deal when she bought into The Den. It wasn’t easy though, especially on this. “Fine,” she said tightly. “You’d better be right about him.”
Deklan’s sharp nod was the only answer she received.
“I’ve scoured the rag and sports sites, and nothing’s been posted about either of you,” Rock added. “Wherever you got your information, it seems to have stalled there. It’s just rumor right now with no proof, and no one is moving on it.”
Seth moved the meeting on to a few other topics regarding schedules and shifts. Over the past six months at Marcus’s direction, the partners had slowly eased back, letting their trusted employees step into bigger roles. The transition had been gradual, but they were getting there.
As the meeting wound down and they were pretty much shooting the shit, she called in the favors she didn’t want to use. But it was for Liv. My kryptonite strikes again. “Hey, Jake?”
“Yeah?” he said, looking to her.
“Any chance you have some time to work with my sister to build some carnival games for kids?”
His brows shot up, and the room went instantly quiet. Great.
Jake scratched his nose, his mouth quirking. “Ah, I’m not sure my stuff is right for kids.”
Marcus covered a laugh then looked away with a mumbled “Sorry” said under his hand.
She sighed, the regret twisting in her stomach. “Never mind.”
“No, wait,” Jake said, his voice apologetic despite the grin on his face. “What do you need?”
“You have a sister?” That was from Seth.
She glanced at him. Her wince was mostly contained when she saw the hurt on his face. She brushed her hair over her shoulders and nodded. “Yeah. She’s two years younger than me.” She scanned the table. Dek and Rock were the only two who didn’t appear to be surprised by the information. “Anyway,” she went on, ignoring the decrease in her lung capacity once again.
