Game On Box Set: Time OutHer Man AdvantageFace-OffBody Check

by Jill Shalvis

She hoped that wouldn’t be the case with Julia and wondered if it warranted a conversation with her sister before Jen jumped in with both feet. For now, however, she was already thinking about another facet of what Axel had said.

  “There were other school-age kids in that group? In your gang?” She’d wondered about that biker who’d nearly run them off the road earlier. “I just assumed you were the anomaly.”

  “Recruiters had a field day in the poor high schools. Kids either got into drugs or motorcycles, often both. But mostly they just craved the security of friends. The family they never had.”

  “Yet, from what I’ve read about you online, you found a supportive family when you came to the States.” How had he navigated the wealthy, privileged world of the prominent Murphy clan when he’d come from such a gritty background?

  “I owe my career to the Murphys.” He spoke with a reverence she hadn’t heard from him before. “I wouldn’t have been playing recreational hockey the year I met Kyle except that some kid on the team got hurt and a camp director sought me out because I was big and could skate. At that level, they didn’t ask for much more from a defenseman.”

  “So you hadn’t even played hockey before then?” Her hands roamed his biceps, marveling at the years of muscle that had built there since those days. “I thought hockey was the kind of sport you were born into. Don’t a lot of kids play it by the time they’re in elementary school?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to. And I skated on the ponds in Finland where I grew up. Lots of kids do. Hockey is a backyard sport there.”

  “Okay, so you got tapped by a youth coach to fill in. Then what?” The filmmaker in her needed to visualize the story.

  “I played a good game defensively. But a kid on their team got pissed when I checked him into the boards. He came back with a fist that knocked out one of my teeth. That was my introduction to Kyle Murphy.”

  “You’re kidding.” She’d seen Kyle play tonight. Had read about him in the days leading up to the game. He was all about precision and timing. Speed and agility. “He doesn’t strike me as the brute type.”

  “Unlike me, right?” He flexed a muscle to emphasize the point and she couldn’t help but remember what it felt like to be wrapped up in all that strength.

  “I just pictured you being the victor in that fight.” She molded her fingers to the bulge of his upper arm, amazed how unyielding it felt.

  “All of my foster brothers are fierce competitors. They don’t look at how big the obstacle is. They just knock it down. And you know, it made me realize that some of my own teammates might have held back around me because of the—”

  “Gang connection.” She didn’t doubt it for a minute. “No one wants to cross the guy whose friends carry guns.”

  “Right. But Kyle didn’t know. And possibly even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. He plays to win.” Axel released the muscle he’d been making and slipped a hand beneath the covers to skim over her bare hip. “After the game, his parents came to check on me since their kid had knocked out my tooth. They were standing there, ready to give my folks their insurance information. They were horrified to realize no one was going to take me to see a doctor.”

  Any good parent would have been. She wanted to ask about his folks, but since he hadn’t offered up much beyond the fact that his stepdad took off after introducing him to the motorcycle club, she thought it would be wiser to wait for him to share what he chose.

  “Did they end up taking you?” Her opinion of the wealthy, jet-set Murphy family was softening.

  “Yeah. And that was cool, but the best part was talking to Kyle about hockey. He was so driven and the sport was—always has been—such a science to him. He analyzed every part of his game and found ways to improve it. Other players I’d met before him were spoiled rich kids who cared more about meeting girls and soaking their parents for a new stick.”

  He was a million miles away as he told her that story and it was obvious the meeting had been monumental for him. Kyle had given him something to care about besides his gang brothers. Something to think about beyond what she guessed was an impoverished and dangerous childhood. The Murphy money had done some good there.

  “So you became friends and they invited you back to the U.S.? Akseli Rankinen officially became Axel Rankin?” She had to admit that was a generous move. No doubt it had been a risk on their part if they knew anything about Axel’s background.

  “Something like that,” he hedged, his fingers tightening on her waist. “It wasn’t easy to accept the invitation, knowing the Destroyers might kill me before they let me out of the group. But I chose a good time to announce my decision—right after a successful beat-down that resulted in new terrain for the club. And they decided I’d be worth more to them down the road.”

  A knot tightened in her belly.

  “Except now they expect their pound of flesh.” She realized how simple and superficial her worries about her sister must sound to a man who had survived the childhood Axel had.

  “I’ll make sure they don’t take it.” He pulled her closer, pressing a warm kiss into her neck. “Don’t think twice about that.”

  She itched to ask him more. Find out how he could fend off the group’s renewed interest in him and stay safe. But he nipped her ear and tucked her hip close to his. In theory, she didn’t appreciate how easily he could distract her. Yet this was their first night together. A stolen moment behind locked doors that she never wanted to end, even though three weeks from now she’d have no choice in the matter.

  Just this once, she could forget about her social responsibility to noble causes and simply enjoy the night. Tomorrow would be time enough to find a way to make sure that old gang stayed far away from him. Even if she had to use the bright light of the media to chase them back to the other side of the globe.

  9

  “YOU DON’T LOOK ALL THAT surprised about my past.” Swiping the puck to Kyle, Axel tried to gauge his foster brother’s expression. He’d just spilled his guts about his years with the Destroyers, culminating in the confrontation with the biker on the way to the flight to Montreal.

  After sleeping with Jennifer and realizing he needed to protect her at all costs, Ax figured the time had come to make his foster family aware of the details of his past. While he didn’t need help fighting his battles, it wouldn’t be fair to the Murphys to be targeted without any warning. When he’d alerted them recently about increasing security, he’d been purposely vague. Now he needed to reveal the truth, not just to his parents, but to his four other brothers—Ryan, Jack, Keith and Danny.

  He flipped a shot into the practice net beside Kyle—the two of them were alone in a training room at the New York visiting-team facility.

  “Actually, I’m not.” Kyle pulled a puck closer with his stick, setting it up for his shot at the practice net next to Axel. “You never wanted to tell us much about your background, bro, and Dad couldn’t leave it up to chance.”

  “I don’t follow.” Frowning, Axel stabbed his stick into the mat and stared at his foster brother—hell, his true brother in every way that counted.

  Thank God the camera guys hadn’t been trailing after either of them today.

  “You know Dad.” Methodically, Kyle fired shot after shot, pulling a new puck into position between each goal. “He thinks research is the key to business success. He’s ordered preliminary studies for every property he’s ever considered buying. Do you really think he’d bring home a foreign teenager without looking into your past?”

  Stunned, Axel watched as one puck after another drilled the practice net. When the last one left the goal swinging gently, he blinked away his shock.

  “You knew all of it?” Axel had omitted a few of the more hellish moments, of course, figuring no one needed to know about the beat-downs he’d seen. The abused teens that showed up at the club, willing to sell their souls to be part of a new cycle of violence. One where they used their fists.

  “Yeah.” Kyle nudged Ax’s
stick with his. “From the start. Before we even left Helsinki that first time, Dad knew that you’d been running with those guys. But we had a family vote and it was unanimous. You were one of us, man, even then.”

  Axel couldn’t look at his brother. Not with his freaking eyes burning and his throat dry as a desert.

  “What the hell is wrong with you people?” He slammed the stick on the floor. Twice, for good measure. “I could have been a total head case. A violent lowlife who carried drugs in my suitcase.”

  “You didn’t look like a user. And hey, you weren’t so violent that I couldn’t handle you. Remember how I knocked your teeth out that time?”

  Axel snorted a laugh.

  “Jesus. It was one tooth.” He looked over at the dopey-ass, crooked-nosed brother who he loved like a son of a bitch. “I can’t believe you brought me into your freaking mansion on the Cape, knowing I was some loser gangster.”

  “‘There, but by the grace of God, go I.’ I swear to you, my man, that’s what Dad said when we talked about bringing you to the States. He was a roughneck before he eloped with Mom. You know her family still doesn’t speak to him.”

  Ax could imagine Robert Murphy making that decision. The guy was a self-made billionaire, turning a clam shack into a successful restaurant and a seaside inn into a hotel conglomerate. But he hadn’t started out with much of anything besides ambition and drive.

  The outdated cooling system kicked on overhead, blowing a stale breeze through the workout room.

  “I can’t believe you’ve known about my history this whole time.” But it would make it easier to call home and tell the Murphys the full extent of the potential new threat. “I’ve been in the U.S. for nine years.”

  “And it took us the first two just to teach you enough English that we could understand you.”

  “With all the curse words first on the list. I’m surprised Mom didn’t kick me out after I called the first dinner horseshit.”

  “Luckily, she’s well versed in our sense of humor.”

  “You’re horseshit, man.”

  “Back at you, bro.” Kyle flipped him a puck off the blade of his stick. “And I wouldn’t worry about Mom and Dad. We can send them tickets for a Mediterranean cruise or something until this blows over.”

  “Right.” Axel lifted his stick, rearing back to fire, then sent the puck into next year. He was rumored to have the hardest slap shot in the league this season and he meant to keep it that way. “That would help me breathe easier about them. But I can’t send Jennifer away for the month. How do I keep her safe?”

  “They’ve already seen you together?” Kyle fed him another puck.

  “Yes.” Ax used his stick to take out his fury, pissed that his past had caught up to him after all this time. “The biker dude looked right at her and took aim like he was going to…”

  He couldn’t even say the words, the image they called up was too horrific. Jennifer was a vibrant, beautiful woman, inside and out. He couldn’t imagine her silenced forever. And he knew the kinds of brutality gangs could visit on a woman.

  His blood chilled.

  “I’d say you have two options.” Kyle leaned on his stick. “One, call the cops and report the threat.”

  “Yeah, my old crew loves squealers. No doubt I’ll wind up with my tongue cut out. But even if I didn’t, it’d be a publicity nightmare. Coach Cesare will go nuts if negative press brings the team down going into the playoffs.”

  “Right.” Kyle replaced his stick in a bin by the door. “Then your other option is to confront the local Destroyers and ask them what the hell they’re doing. If they have a beef with you, they can settle up face-to-face rather than threatening your girl.”

  He didn’t want to think about those animals coming anywhere near Jen.

  “It’ll still be the end of my career if I’ve had every bone systematically broken by pissed-off gangsters.” Besides, some injuries never healed correctly. “How are you going to score any goals without me to pass to you?”

  Axel put away his stick, too, and reached for his gym bag. They needed to dress for the game.

  He nearly ran into Kyle, who’d stopped by the door.

  “No need to worry about that since I’d obviously go in to confront these guys with you. And if they try to take you out, they’ll have to go through me.”

  For the second time today, Kyle had knocked him on his ass in the only way he still could—metaphorically.

  “That is not happening.” He would go to the mat on this one. “I appreciate your willingness to have your face rearranged along with mine, but this is my fight.”

  “Well, then, you still haven’t learned jack about your family, have you? You have real brothers now. Not the bullshit gangster kind.” Kyle didn’t get angry often, but Axel could hear it in his voice now. “You don’t fight alone anymore.”

  Unwilling to push his brother’s buttons right before a game, Axel figured he’d better keep his plans to himself if he didn’t want to risk a knock-down-drag-out with Kyle.

  He needed to save his strength for when he faced the Destroyers.

  “I know.” He held out his fist, a peace offering.

  He’d wanted to warn the Murphys about the possibility of violence from the motorcycle club. This conversation had taken care of that, even if Kyle hadn’t liked the outcome.

  Kyle bumped knuckles with him with more force than necessary. “I’ve got your back, Ax. Whether you want me to or not.”

  With a terse nod, Axel shoved open the training room door, exiting out into the visiting team’s locker area.

  After a 7:05 game, they’d head back to Philly, arriving shortly after midnight. One more night with Jennifer before he faced the Destroyers and found out what they wanted. Because no matter what happened, he would keep his family safe and Jennifer, too.

  Even if he had to turn his back on all of them to do it.

  * * *

  “NEED A CLOSE-UP SHOT, Bryce.” Jennifer spoke into the microphone on her headset as she watched the live feeds of the Phantoms game on six different monitors—three from stationary cameras and three manned by her crew. “We want some more emotion. Yelling, sweating, snarling.”

  She didn’t ask just because his camera happened to be on Axel. Although, possibly, Ax’s face had reminded her that she needed more tight shots. He’d been on her mind every moment since he’d left her bed this morning to get dressed for the early flight to New York. She enjoyed the chance to see him at work, his job interesting her more than she would have guessed possible given that she wasn’t a sports fan. But hockey had been his ticket out of hardship, his path to a different life.

  That gave her a new appreciation for the game. And she was willing to do whatever she could to see that he didn’t have to give it up just because some creeps from his past started harassing him. She would research the Destroyers like an investigative reporter and search for their vulnerability—a way to hurt them with a media spotlight. But for right now, she needed to put forward solid work her boss would be proud of on the documentary.

  “Will do,” Bryce returned over the headset from his position along the rink.

  His lens brought Axel’s strong jaw into focus. The U-shaped scar on his cheek filled the frame.

  “Thank you.” She enjoyed the view, her hand reaching to touch his face on monitor 4. “And, Steven, can you make sure we have more footage of the guys in the box? I’d like to see their reaction to hard hits or bad calls.”

  “Sure thing,” her most experienced technician responded. “I’m going to put one of the stationary cameras on it.”

  “Fine,” she agreed, moving her hand off the monitor once Axel returned to the bench and another player’s mug took over the screen. “And great job on the footage of Vincent Girard and his date last night, Steve.”

  She’d reviewed the sequence on the flight from Montreal, surprised to see the heartwarming interaction between the right winger and the groupie who didn’t behave one bit like a g
roupie. Jennifer had learned a little about Chelsea Durant from the team’s publicity person, including that she worked in the gift shop and helped out in the public relations office in her spare time. But even the publicity man, whose job it was to promote the team and be her point person on-site, wouldn’t sell out the young woman about her past. Jennifer had to admit she was curious about her.

  “Thanks.” His terse reply suggested he knew his work was top-notch and didn’t really need her approval. But then again, they’d never gotten along all that well. “Is it going to make the cut or was it a waste of my time?”

  Jennifer gave in to the urge to roll her eyes since there was no one else in the makeshift editing room to see her.

  “I’m not sure if we can use it since I probably need a more comprehensive waiver. I don’t think Chelsea looked aware that she was on camera.”

  And that was an implicit part of the waiver contract for this project. The players were fair game to film at all times. But anyone else needed to be aware they were being recorded for the waiver permission to apply.

  “Bullshit red tape,” Steven muttered, letting all the crew know just how much he thought of her and her refusal to bend rules.

  Jennifer tried to remain neutral-sounding. “I’ll meet with her tonight to see if she’ll sign a more comprehensive agreement to use her image.”

  No reply. Oh, well. She was still the boss of all the footage that she wasn’t actively featured in, so she planned to protect Chelsea’s wishes on this one. When Jennifer had walked into this job, she’d planned to deal fast and loose with the team to make a commercial documentary that the built-in audience of sports fans would love.

  But she saw layer after layer in the narrative here, and there was a lot more going on than a winning season. The coach seemed to be reliving the career he’d lost to an injury, hell-bent on getting his team to the Stanley Cup. Leandre Archambault was trying to turn over a new leaf and find someone special, but the team pigeonholed him as a male bimbo and made it tough for him to meet the kind of woman he was looking for.