Puck Buddies

by Teagan Kade

  Bogdan spits down at me, crouching and bringing his mouth close to my ear. “You stay away from her, Yankee, or next time I use this on your head, huh?”

  I’m in too much pain to reply as they leave, herding themselves through the door. Bogdan is last to leave, a wide, knowing grin tearing his face in two.

  *

  Coach shakes his head at me on the table. “It’s fucking three AM and I’m being dragged out of bed to learn my star asset’s been taken out of the game.” He looks at my knee, already black and blue with bruising. “How did you say this happened again?”

  “I fell down the stairs.”

  The team nurse prepares a needle on the other side of the table, looking as pleased as Coach to be up at this hour.

  Coach stares up at the medical-center ceiling, breathing out. “They’ve got elevators here, you know. You sure there’s not something you want to tell me, because you’ve got a habit of drawing unwanted attention, McCallum, and I’ve heard the rumors.”

  I play dumb. “Rumors?”

  “You and the Russian girl. It’s a dangerous game.”

  I stare at the ceiling myself. “It’s not like I’m trying to smuggle her across the border.”

  Coach shakes his head, crossing his arms in front of himself. “What the hell am I going to do without you on the ice? Paul can’t cut it as captain. We’re fucked.”

  “I can play,” I reply.

  Coach laughs. “With that cantaloupe you’re calling a knee? I don’t think so.”

  As if to prove the point, I sit up and swing myself off the bed. I stand, almost collapse doing so, but pasting on the best smile I can even though my entire lower half is burning like hellfire. “See?”

  Coach doesn’t look convinced. “You’re going to be the end of me, kid. You really are.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  VIKTORIYA

  I close the door of the treatment room quietly behind myself. It took every trick in the book to get into this place with the increased security, but as soon as I heard, I knew I had to come.

  Liam sits up, wincing. “Okay, if this is a hallucination I want more of those drugs.”

  I sit down beside him. His leg, particularly the area around his knee, is black, blue, and swollen. “You don’t want to know the kind of bribery and ninja tactics I pulled out to get in here, even for five minutes.”

  Liam looks down between his legs. “Five minutes to make you come? I can do that.”

  I shove him in the shoulder.

  He winces again.

  “Sorry.”

  He puts his hand up, but I can see the pain written on his face as his features draw together. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Shouldn’t you be training with Daniel?” he asks, changing the subject.

  “I had to come and see you. Besides, Daniel’s crashed out.”

  Liam’s eyebrows knit together. “’Crashed out?’”

  “Asleep,” I correct. “The painkillers he’s been taking… He won’t be up until midday.”

  “But he’ll be right for the final, won’t he?”

  Liam’s concern is touching. I take his hand and run my thumb over his palm lightly, cannot help the flicker of sensation that starts up between my legs. “We’ve been skating together forever. He’ll be fine. He always is. The question is, will you be okay for your final?”

  Liam pushes himself off the bed, standing, teeth gritted in a forced smile. “Okay? I’ve never felt better.”

  “How did it happen?” I ask, brushing my hair over my ear.

  He looks at me silently for a moment, the amber flecks in his eyes catching the light. He breathes out. “I had a run-in with a brick wall, and by brick wall I mean Bogdan Smirnov.”

  My chest tightens. “He did this?”

  “It was a team effort, but mostly your wonderful ex. Don’t worry, though. He’s going to get what’s coming to him.”

  I take Liam’s arm, holding him tight. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you? You could put in a formal complaint, go to the Olympic committee, tell them—”

  Liam places a finger on my lips. “No, it wouldn’t do any good. Like I said, I can handle it.” He looks down at his knee again. “I’ve skated through far worse than a bum knee.”

  “It looks like a basketball,” I muse.

  He holds me by the shoulders. “I. Will. Be. Fine.”

  There’s a light knock on the door, my signal to leave.

  Liam hangs his head sullenly before looking up to me. “You’ve got to go, right? And I didn’t even get to first base.”

  I lean forward and kiss him, allow my hand to come up against his cheek and stubble, the contrast of sensation threatening to seduce me all over again.

  I break away panting. “Tomorrow night, you win. You take the Russian team down. Promise me.”

  That cheeky, hung smile I’ve come to love returns. “I promise.”

  I give him one more quick kiss, winking as I push through the door, a nervous official waiting for the twenty autographs I promised him for this favor. “Win,” I tell Liam quietly, “and you can fuck me in the ass.”

  I close the door before he can get a word out, quietly smiling to myself. That will do it.

  *

  Bogdan and a group of others are playing cards in the Russian recreation room. He smiles when he sees me coming. “Viktoriya, my darling. To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  I walk right up to him and punch him square in the nose. It hurts like hell, but I don’t let it show as I stand there.

  Bogdan pinches his nose, blood running out between his fingers. “What the fuck?!” he exclaims in Russian, the others standing and moving away like I’m suddenly carrying the plague.

  I stab my finger at him, conscious of other Russian athletes gathering behind me to watch the spectacle. “I know what you did, you asshole, and you’re going to pay.”

  Bogdan wipes the blood away, stepping up to me. “So, Yankee Doodle has got you fighting his fights, has he? Figures.”

  I punch him again in the chest, but this time he’s ready. He barely moves. He looks down laughing, but he makes no attempt to touch me. “Go ahead. Whatever makes you feel better, Viktoriya.”

  “What’s going to make me feel better,” I spit, “is seeing the US take gold tomorrow night.”

  There’s a murmur behind me, but I ignore it.

  Bogdan nods, leaning forward and whispering into my ear. I can smell the iron bite of the blood leaking from his nose. “You better be careful what you say around here, you traitorous bitch.”

  Someone grabs my arm and pulls me away.

  It’s Daniel.

  “I’m not done,” I tell him, trying to shake free.

  “Oh,” Bogdan laughs, “you’re done, alright.” He sniggers as Dimitri drags me away. “You’re finished, both of you.”

  “Let me go!” I scream at Daniel, kicking and trying to force myself from his grip, but he’s stronger than he looks.

  He pushes me into his room and closes the door, standing against it so I can’t escape. “What the hell are you doing, Vik?”

  His eyes are bloodshot. He looks tired.

  I point my finger past him. “Do you know what that prick did to Liam?”

  “I heard rumors.”

  “So let me kick his ass.”

  Dimitri puts his hand up to block me. “And what good would that do? Think about it. You want to get kicked off the team, now, when we are so close to our dream?”

  I sigh, the angst and tension running out of me. “What do you suggest I do then, huh?”

  Dimitri opens the door, standing aside. “Skate.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LIAM

  It’s go time at the Gangneung Hockey Centre. This is it. The final.

  I’ve barely heard from Viktoriya after she met me at the medical center this morning. It seems she might have got her own revenge on Bogdan given the panda eyes he’s sporting and the strip across his nose. It’s a fucking improvement if yo
u ask me.

  Following that, she’s been locked down in training. Even her cell’s coming up as disconnected.

  Of course, I don’t expect her to be here tonight, but I still can’t help but feel slightly disappointed by her absence as I look around the stadium.

  There’s a smattering of Russian support, but there’s even more for us given Russian’s ties with North Korea. The crowd is behind us. I don’t want to let them down.

  And I’m ready. I’m ready to take down Bogdan and his merry band of ass bandits once and for all, send them right back to Russki land broken and defeated.

  The ice feels good under my feet. My knee? Not so much. I grit my teeth together and zone out the pain, use and channel it into aggression.

  Bogdan skates backwards past me. “How’s the knee, Yankee?”

  “About as good as that silver medals going to feel hanging around that abomination you call a neck.”

  He nods slowly, continuing to grin. “What do they say in America? Ah, yes. ‘Your funeral.’”

  Paul skates to a stop beside me. “You want me to stick it to him, take the pressure off?”

  I’m grinning myself. “No. Tonight, Bogdan’s all mine.”

  *

  Five minutes in and it’s clear the Russians aren’t going down easily. Their defense is hardcore, but we manage to push the first goal through without too much trouble.

  I skate back into position scanning the stands. Still no sign of Viktoriya.

  One of the Russians checks me hard into the glass, most of the force of the blow concentrated on my knee. I go down in agony, breathing hard.

  The Russian is carded and sent off, Bogdan waving from the end of the rink, laughing.

  So he wants to play dirty.

  Oh, I can do dirty.

  Conscious now of Bogdan’s focus on my knee, I keep it well-guarded, instructing the rest of the boys to open up on the loose sticking. It draws a foul or two, but it’s enough to let the Russians know we’re playing their game.

  Still, they manage to claw back, enough to level out the score come halftime.

  Paul collapses beside on the bench, removing his helmet. “It’s a fucking war zone out there.”

  I take his shoulder. “And we’ve been through too many wars to count. We’ve got this.”

  My knee flares with pain again. It’s going to be a problem in the second half, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.

  Back into it and I see a Russian defender in a classic bait and switch, the rest of the team drawing our defense away so he can drive his stick hard into my knee.

  It works.

  I go down again.

  This time I’m not sure if I can get up.

  I slam my fist down into the ice.

  It’s fucking over.

  I hear someone shouting from the stands, a voice I’ve come to recognize so well.

  I get up, the pain forgotten as I see Viktoriya standing there in the middle of the aisle. Her hands are cupped around her mouth. She’s diplomatically shouting only “Go!’, but I know who she’s cheering for.

  With a wink in her direction, I’m back on my feet and into the game, the crowd rising up around me. There’s ten minutes to go. I want Bogdan to feel every one of them.

  But thirty seconds to go and we’re tied. If we don’t score again, this thing’s going to go into sudden death, and Russia hasn’t lost a single shoot-out yet. It would be the death of us.

  Paul exchanges a glance with me. He knows it too.

  The clock is back on. I collect the puck off Paul and power for the Russian goalie, but their defense is heavy. It takes every trick I know to weave through them.

  I keep an eye on the clock.

  Fifteen seconds.

  Ten.

  We’re running out of time.

  I clear the last defender, but Bogdan skates in front of the goalie, his brooding mass all that stands between me and glory. I look around, but everyone else is tied up.

  I’m on my own.

  It’s him and me.

  “Not today, asshole,” I whisper.

  I increase my speed until I’m barreling towards Bogdan, the crowd electric.

  Five seconds.

  I have to shoot and I have to do it now.

  Bogdan braces for impact, but at the last second I feign left and glance right, flicking the puck right between his legs as the goalie is caught off guard.

  The buzzer goes off and I don’t need to look to know we’ve won. The deafening roar is enough.

  Bogdan curses in Russian, taking off his helmet and hammering it down against the ice.

  I can’t wipe the smile off my face as Paul collides into me, other team members following suit until we’re nothing but a giant pile of bodies on the ice.

  It’s through the intertwined legs of my teammates I see her, Viktoriya, smiling widest of all.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  VIKTORIYA

  Now we’re coming to the end of the Games, security has been relaxed, not that American-Russian relations are any better following the US’s ice hockey win last night.

  I wait for my chance, following Liam out of the athletes’ dining room and into the hallway, drawing him into the same alcove we were in at the start of the Games. It’s only been two weeks, but it feels like an eternity now.

  I glance out into the hallway. We’re alone.

  “Déjà vu,” says Liam, taking hold of my hips.

  I lift the gold medal off his chest. “How does it feel?”

  He shifts his neck around. “A little heavy, kind of clunky, actually.”

  I let go of the medal and shove him against the wall. “You know what I mean.”

  His face tightens, but he can’t stop the smile working its way over his lips. “Honestly? Fucking amazing. Sure, taking the gold is great, but seeing the look on Bogdan’s face when I handed his ass to him…” He takes hold of the medal. “I’d trade ten of these to see that look again.”

  I nod solemnly. “The fans won’t take too kindly to the loss back home. You never want to lose at the Olympic Games, but you really don’t want to lose if you’re Russian.”

  Liam laughs, playing with the bottom of my jacket. “I bet. Are you ready?”

  “For tonight?” It’s hard to believe in only a few hours I’ll be skating for gold myself.

  “Yes… and no. Are you ever really ready?”

  “You’ll kill it out there. I know you will. The gold’s as good as yours.”

  “If I don’t, how did you put it, get my ‘ass handed to me.’”

  Liam’s hands slide around my hips, gripping my ass cheeks tight and bringing me forward against his erection. “You did promise I could have it.”

  I place my lips against his ear, enjoying the way his stubble brushes against my cheek, the inviting masculine scent of his body. “If I win gold tonight, you can have any hole you want.”

  He shakes his head as I pull back. “It’s a date.”

  I step out into the hallway before I get any wetter. The last thing I need out there on the ice tonight is an image of a naked and very ready Liam ‘Mad Dog’ McCallum throwing off my performance.

  “I’ll see you after the performance?” he says from the alcove.

  “You will,” I call back, walking towards the dormitories and smiling so wide my mouth hurts.

  *

  I’m nervous waiting with Dimitri by the barrier. It’s a full house in here tonight at the Gangneung Ice Arena, the air electric. Aliona Savchenko and Robin Szolkowy from Germany are wrapping up their routine. They’re our biggest competition, and as much as I hate to say it, their routine is flawless.

  Well, almost.

  The judges find deductions, enough to provide a small margin for Dimitri and me to seize upon, but it’s going to be tight.

  I notice Dimitri’s eyes are red. He swallows back two pills in his hand, clearing his throat.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.

  He looks at me smiling.
“Of course! Never better.”

  Still, I can’t help the flicker of concern that crosses my face as I smile back.

  Our names are called. Dimitri extends his hand. “Are you ready?”

  I’m never ready. You’d think after all these years of skating I would have found a way to tamp down the nerves, but they’re here regardless. Helena says it’s good, that it proves I’m not some inhuman robot.

  Thoughts of Liam push to the front of my mind. I picture his chest, his arms, his bulging cock…

  Yep. Definitely not a robot.

  We take to the ice, the applause thunderous.

  One part of the audience is cheering louder than most. I look up and see Liam and his part of the US Ice Hockey Team in the upper stands shouting and clapping wildly. I have no idea how they got seats, but it’s great to have their support.

  I take up position with Dimitri and feel a tremor run through his hand.

  Forget about it. It will be fine.

  I smile, the spotlights drawing onto us and with it the prickly heat that follows.

  The music starts and we glide away. From that moment on everything is muscle memory. The nerves are gone and in their wake is pure, unaltered freedom.

  The first carry lift goes well, our lines clean. The fan spiral has good extension.

  Things couldn’t be better.

  We come to the first triple Lutz and nail it. Dimitri is smiling, enjoying himself. He wants this as much as I do, to leave competition with a bang.

  Everything is on track. We cover a lot of ice, bring great speed into the jumps, technique sharp and sure to bring a high Grade of Execution.

  Side of by side, we prepare for the camel spin. I turn and bring my leg out, Dimitri doing likewise. We’ve done this literally thousands of times, but as soon as I spot-check Dimitri out the corner of my eye, I know something is wrong.

  He’s too close, I think.

  …Right before the edge of his blade connects with the side of my head.

  The force of the contact is enough to send me spiraling off, my shoulder impacting the ice first followed by my wrist and then the same side of my head Dimitri’s skate hit. I slam down and slide, barely register the shocked gasp from the audience.

  What the hell just happened?

  I’m in shock, sitting there on my side as Dimitri skates towards me screaming “Viktoriya! Viktoriya!”