by Jill Shalvis
Around them, the room went quiet as footage of their last home game filled the screen, the microphones capturing the curses and shouting on the ice better than regular game coverage would. Close-ups of the players interspersed with narration that must have been done by someone in New York since Axel didn’t recognize the voice.
“Vinny!” the team shouted when the player appeared on-screen in his suburban home, talking about what it was like to play for famed Phantoms coach Nico Cesare.
“Where’s Chelsea?” someone asked in the front, a question that was quickly shushed and locked down by the other guys, making Axel wonder what had happened to stop their favorite groupie from attending.
“I thought she had a role in this,” Axel spoke into Jennifer’s ear, glad for a chance to be close to her again.
“She does.” Jennifer nodded. “Maybe she’ll arrive later.”
Axel was the next up on-screen as the program cut away to a practice room with him making shot after shot into a small net.
“Ax!” the players shouted. Kyle threw some popcorn at the image.
“Good transition,” Axel told Jennifer, liking the way she’d gone from Vinny discussing how hard the team worked to the shot of Axel silently firing pucks into a net.
“Thank you.” She took his hand in the darkness, even though bigmouthed Leandre Archambault sat on the other side of her where he could have seen the gesture.
Damn, but he liked that. He admired her grit and her fire. But Jennifer had a soft side, too, a tenderness that made her a loyal protector. A champion of the underdog. It was obvious in her film topics and evident in the care she took when she showed people on-screen. She revealed something about each person’s character in the documentary.
Did she see him the way he looked in this segment, a robot worker so zeroed in on his game he didn’t look up?
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket while the program switched to an interview with Coach Cesare and his wife, Lainie.
Discreetly, Axel took out his phone and clicked open the main screen to see he had a text.
Looks like U can still fire a shot. We’ll expect U @ target practice tonight. Leave your brother’s house alone. Someone will meet you.
“What is it?” Jennifer glanced his way, perhaps feeling the tension in him where their hands joined.
Crap.
Sweat broke out on his forehead just looking at her sitting next to him. So vulnerable because of shit he’d done in the past. He turned his ringer off and rolled his shoulders to alleviate the tension. Obviously, the Destroyers were coming for him tonight. Were probably already in position around Kyle’s house. Watching.
He’d have to figure out a way to make sure Jen was somewhere safe while he took care of business.
“Nothing.” He shook his head and tried to stretch his mouth into an easy grin. “Some other players ribbing me about the show.”
Jen nodded, but he could see the doubt in her eyes. Her attention returned to the screen where the series showed a long shot of Vinny and Chelsea having a conversation in the parking lot behind the practice rink, their body language advertising interest in each other even if there was no sound for the image.
Interesting. Vinny damn well better take good care of Chels. Axel had identified with the loner look in her eyes the first time they’d met. He’d seen the same wariness in other gang members. The guys in motorcycle clubs were hard-asses, but most of them had gotten that way because they’d been through hell in some other part of their lives. Axel didn’t know exactly what had put Chelsea on the streets as a teen, but he’d bet it had been a tough road for her.
“Chelsea should be watching with us,” he observed out loud, just to make his opinion known.
“She’s volunteering at a shelter tonight,” Vinny Girard supplied from the other side of the room.
Some other guys shushed them as the scene swapped to the groupies in the car riding up to the Montreal game, the girls all talking about what it meant to be hockey fans.
“It’s like having a family,” Chelsea said on-screen, never taking her eyes from the road as she cruised up the highway toward the Canadian border.
“Yeah. A family full of kick-ass brothers,” Misty piped up from the backseat, making the girls laugh in the clip. Some of the team pumped their fists in agreement around Kyle’s media room.
Family. Axel turned that idea over in his head while he kept his eyes on the flat screen. Misty talked about the hard-luck backgrounds the girls had come from and the dream they shared about opening a more full-service shelter in Philadelphia that catered to women and children.
But Axel was stuck on the family idea, knowing deep in his gut that he’d been looking for that when he’d joined the Destroyers way too young. That ratty stepfather who drank like a fish and took off after a few years had paid far more attention to him than his mother ever had. So as a kid, Ax was only too happy to follow the guy into a gutted shell of a building to hang out with a bunch of seedy “uncles.” Looking back, Ax understood that as a kid he’d just wanted a place to fit in. People to look out for him.
By the time he’d met Kyle Murphy, he’d been ready for a better family. A new life. But apparently he’d pissed off the old clan too much. And like any family quarrel, it had only festered over time. Tonight, he needed to end it for good.
“Get ready,” Jennifer whispered to him, calling his thoughts to the documentary series as it came back from a commercial break. “We’re up next.”
Trying to focus on the screen, Axel watched as game footage of him scoring a winning goal dissolved into a scene with him and Jennifer kissing in the conference room.
Massively kissing.
The media room erupted in wolf howls and shouts as a team full of grown men were transformed into twelve-year-olds at the sight of a lip-lock. Thankfully, the shot was short-lived and returned to an interview with their goalie talking about the way different guys tried to let off steam during the run for the playoffs.
“Was that what we were doing?” he asked Jennifer. “Letting off steam?” He’d sure as hell looked like a man who had it bad for Jen in that kissing shot.
How obvious would it be to his former gang that this woman was important to him?
“I lobbied for them to edit it out right up until the bitter end,” she confided, leaning so close her hair slid onto his shoulder. “I even caved on the film I want to make and said I didn’t care about that anymore, since you were right that my sister doesn’t want any part of it. But the producer was adamant the footage would stay in since I’d already signed the waiver.”
She’d been prepared to give up the film that she wanted to make so bad, no matter what her sister said. It touched him that she’d listened to his advice and consulted her sister about the project. It touched him even more that she’d gone to bat for him with her boss. That, more than anything, told him he needed to distance himself from Jennifer while he still had a prayer of pulling away. She was too passionately committed to the things she cared about, too apt to want to help him fight his battles. And he could not risk getting her involved in whatever happened with the Destroyers.
Even if that meant he had to hurt them both in the process. Hearts at least stood a chance of healing. But if they came after Jennifer? His chest felt as though an icy hand had reached inside him and squeezed.
“Nice guy you work for,” he muttered darkly. “But I need you to have some extra protection until this thing settles out with my old gang. They’ll know now that they could get to me through you.”
“What do you mean, ‘settles out’? Are you going to the police about the way that goon nearly made us get into an accident before we left for Montreal? Because I think that constitutes a threat.” She turned toward him in her seat, ignoring the show she’d worked so hard on to talk to him quietly in the dark media room. “I’m your witness. I saw it all.”
Damn. Already she was searching for solutions to his problem, eager to get involved. He couldn’t have that
. The time had come to protect her even if it killed him.
Around them, the team cheered over a great stop by the goalie during the game against Montreal. They’d all seen it on game film, but the documentary series hyped up the play.
“Not exactly.” Axel peered around the room and saw a clear path to the door in the back. “Would you mind missing the last half of this so we could talk about it?”
His eyes roamed over her, memorizing her beautiful features now when she looked at him with so much warmth in her gaze. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it was his own damn fault for letting someone too close.
“Believe me, after all that editing, I know how it ends.” Releasing his hand, she rose and headed for the back of the room.
He followed her out, leaving his empty popcorn container on a table by the exit. He levered open the door, careful not to let too much light into the viewing room.
The sound from the documentary was still audible here, and Axel gestured for her to follow him toward a game room near the indoor hot tub. The scent of chlorine hung in the air as they passed an indoor pool and reached an oversize den with a billiard table and dartboard. A bar and a foosball game filled out the room while trophies and framed jerseys covered the walls.
“Wow.” Jennifer craned her neck to see all the game photos and magazine covers on the wall. “Kyle has quite a spread, doesn’t he?”
“You mean the trophies?” His gaze went to the floor-to-ceiling cases of awards his foster brother had snagged over the years. He was just as glad to delay their conversation since that meant he’d have a few more minutes with her.
A little time to soak in everything he’d grown to admire. Damn it, his legs felt like lead with this weight hanging over him.
“I mean the house.” Jennifer ran her hand over the Lucite bar lit from underneath. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’s nice,” he agreed. “It belonged to a former football player, so it already had a lot of the extras, and Kyle has been adding bonus features since the moment we touched down in Philly. But about tonight—”
“Professional athletes have some seriously nice digs.” She moved toward the silver saddle chairs that looked like something out of a ’50s diner. “Sorry to gawk, but I’ve never hung out with hockey stars on my jobs before. I’m usually camping in some overheated trailer and feeling guilty about all my luxuries as I film the lives of—”
“Jen, this is important.” He redirected her, on edge about the meeting tonight. Could there be a worse time for this discussion? Dragging out one of the bar stools, he motioned toward it. “Have a seat.”
She bristled but did as he asked. Her red waves flounced as she dropped into the chair, her yellow skirt printed with limes and mangoes fanning out around her.
“So why don’t you want to go to the police about the threat?” she asked, crossing slender legs so that a green suede ankle boot brushed his calf.
“It wouldn’t be enough of a threat for the authorities to take seriously.” Pointing a finger at them like a gun and pulling an imaginary trigger? That’d get him laughed out of the local precinct.
“How do you know that until you file a formal complaint?”
“I was on the sketchy side of the law long enough to know how it works.”
“But that was in a foreign country. You’re on U.S. soil now.” Uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward to emphasize her point, her white T-shirt with an iconic film-reel design stretching across her breasts.
Damn but he wished he could think about that right now instead of being scared for her safety. The sooner he put some distance between them, the better. He’d been an idiot not to send her running back to New York the first day she’d shown up at the practice rink, but he’d gotten sucked in by her impulsive charm and undeniable sex appeal.
“Right. I’m in the U.S. now, where I could be deported if I’m not careful.”
“You haven’t done anything wrong.” She pounded a fist on the bar, clearly indignant at the thought of injustice.
In that moment, he could picture her making the documentaries she enjoyed most, her zeal for her work driving the project forward. It would be nice to be worthy of a woman like that. To be a man who didn’t have a lousy past tied around his neck like an albatross.
“I know you think I should go to the cops. But first, I’m going to speak to the local branch of the Destroyers and see what they want.” His cell phone burned a hole in his pocket, the text message assuring him there would be someone watching for him to leave Kyle’s tonight. Someone keeping tabs on him.
And that meant they would likely be on the lookout for Jennifer, too. His hands fisted and his determination solidified.
Jennifer reeled from Axel’s announcement, trying to figure out if she could have possibly misunderstood him.
“Are you insane?” She gripped his shoulders and faced him head-on. “You can’t do that.”
She’d researched the Destroyers after Axel had told her about his past and they were bad eggs. Notorious for drug running and brawling with rival gangs, they were trouble on both sides of the ocean.
“I have to.” He didn’t look swayed in the least.
“No.” She shook her head, refusing to hear it. “Ax, it’s dangerous. There are other—”
“Don’t you think I know it’s dangerous?” He stood, walking away from her when she needed to hang on to him with both hands. “I rode with them for years. I know exactly how they’ll handle this situation.”
Her stomach knotted tighter while he absently rolled the eight ball around the empty billiard table.
“You do?”
“Yes.” When the ball sank in a far pocket, he reached beneath the table and pulled out two others to spin across the felt. “They’re watching the house. They’ll surround my car on the way home, insist I ride with them to their stronghold. Then, after a few bullshit moves meant to intimidate me, they’ll blackmail me with my past and name their terms for their silence. If I don’t give them what they want, they’ll go after you next.”
“Me?” she squeaked before she cleared her throat. “Isn’t that all the more reason to involve the authorities?”
“No. That’s the best incentive to keep this quiet. If I rat them out, the consequences go from dangerous to deadly.” The certainty in his voice terrified her.
Suddenly, she didn’t care about their differences. About how a future between them didn’t add up. She just wanted him safe. Whole.
Most of all, she wanted him to stay here for the night where they wouldn’t come after him.
“Then let’s wait until morning to figure out what to do. We’ll ask your brother for help. Your family has connections. You can spend the night here—”
“I can’t.” He pulled out his cell phone. Maybe he checked the time or a message, because he only glanced at it before he returned it to his pants pocket. “I don’t want them gunning for my family any more than I want them to come after you, so Kyle can’t know any more about this than he already does.”
“Of course, but—”
“Jen. This isn’t going to work.” He stalked toward her, leaving the billiard table behind.
“That’s what I’ve been saying.” She reached for him, her fingers landing on the immovable wall of his chest. “Your plan is too dangerous.”
“No. I mean you and I.” His blue eyes were icy. Resolute. “We’ve known all along this was going to be difficult and having that kiss aired on television increased the problem one-hundred-fold.”
He couldn’t be serious.
“Axel, don’t push me away just because of this.” Needing to impress her point upon him, she shackled one thick forearm with both her hands. “We can figure this out.”
“It’s not just because of this. Even if we take the Destroyers out of the equation, there’s still a huge disconnect between you living and working in New York and me based in Philadelphia and traveling the country.” He swallowed hard and for a second she thought he was
going to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Tell her that he was dead wrong and she was right and that they needed to go to the police.
But then, there was silence.
“We haven’t even discussed that yet, so why borrow trouble?” Her fingers squeezed tighter even though she knew that holding him there was the worst kind of clingy. “Let’s figure this out first, then we can worry about what will happen when I go back to New York.”
Clingy or not, she realized she’d never had a man worth hanging on to until now.
“Jen, maybe if this stuff with my past hadn’t come along, I would have been content to coast through the next few weeks and just enjoy what we have. But you can’t tell me that—even without the Destroyers—we would have made this work long-term.” He spoke like a reasonable stranger, his expression so cool and remote. His accent thicker than usual. “You are a social crusader with a mission for justice and equality. You thrive on championing the underdog. How will you feel in my world where all the houses look like this?”
He made a sweeping gesture around Kyle’s extravagant game room. The scent of the indoor pool still clung in her nose.
“Those things are just superficial,” she argued, even though she’d been a little worried about that herself.
And why did he have to bring it up now, before they’d even gotten time to work through those problems?
“Right. And you’ll always see them as superficial, even when I buy another new car instead of donating to a charity.” He had hit her in a vulnerable spot, since the cars did strike her as over-the-top. “I saw the judgment in your eyes when you looked at the vehicles in my garage last night.”
“Stop.” She felt panicky, as if she’d been pushed backward and there was no one to stop her endless fall. “I know you’re just doing this because of the danger I could be in, and that’s not going to go away even if we break up right now.”
Right? That had to be why he was doing this now. She swallowed hard, waiting for him to say that he didn’t mean it.
Carefully, he pried her fingers from his arm and collected her hands in his.
