by Kallie Lane
She shrugged, avoiding his gaze as she opened the lid on the Styrofoam cup and took a hit. “What part of ‘I won’t let the maniac curb my actions’ didn’t you understand? My son’s team has a tournament starting tomorrow in Laurelville, and he has to be here for practice. We are going to the tournament.”
“Hell, woman, do you have some sort of chemical imbalance resulting in suicidal tendencies? Or are you just plain ornery? I do not want you going to the hockey tournament. What are my chances of changing your mind?”
“About the same as winning the lottery,” she shot back.
She was insane, all right. Short of locking her up, he was going to have to take her to the blasted hockey tournament. He tried a change of tactics to wear her down.
“Just so you know…the coroner’s office won’t release Rainey Dubé’s body until further notice, because her fiancé insists on having her cremated. It might be necessary to exhume the body later, and the ME doesn’t want to take the chance on losing evidence.”
“Boy, you’re just full of good cheer, aren’t you?” Tears glazed her eyes, and she blinked them away. “Rainey is dead and we can’t even lay her to rest?”
“Afraid not. You’ll just have to wait.”
Not a nice way to put it, he knew, but Sully couldn’t afford to let up on the pressure. Not when their kiss last night could be a prelude to something, well…something special, although he wasn’t sure what. If Breeana got out of this alive. And that was a mighty big if when he factored in how many women had already died to satisfy the sick cravings of a lunatic. A bad, bad feeling slithered up the back of his neck and left him more than a little freaking upset.
Doc Stubborn wasn’t taking the threats to her life seriously enough. “I’ll do whatever it takes, cookie, so long as I don’t have to bury you next.”
She glared at him and muttered something indecipherable under her breath. He was pretty sure it was a curse.
“From now on, I will personally handle your babysitting detail, because you can’t be trusted to stay out of harm’s way. So get used to it. What I say goes. And, if I hear any more potty language coming out of your mouth, I’m going to wash it out with soap.”
“Really?” The grimace playing her lips morphed into a smirk. Then Breeana stood and made for the arena doors, a volley of “shit, shit, shit” trailing along behind her.
****
The setting sun glanced off the water as the Tahoe hummed across the bridge and took the exit ramp with Sully behind the wheel. Breeana sat beside him with a curve playing her lips. She listened to her son talking hockey from the back seat. Sully reached over and squeezed her hand as he swung the vehicle into the parking lot of the arena. He had a smile on his face too. Maybe Cody’s excitement was contagious.
The three of them together in the SUV felt like they were a real family. Breeana kicked the thought to the curb in a hurry, reminding herself of her widow’s status. After all, she planned to stay single for the rest of her life. Crap.
Sully angled out of the Tahoe and popped the hatch. “Okay, hot-shot, grab your gear. You only have an hour before game time.”
Cody dragged his hockey bag to the pavement. “That’s good, Lieutenant. I’m going to hustle up the rest of my team and check out the competition.”
“How about finding your coach first? He may have other ideas.” Sully handed him his hockey sticks and closed the hatch. “Whatever happens—you have fun out there tonight.”
Her son flipped his baseball cap backward on his head and headed for the arena, loaded down with his equipment and a grin from ear-to-ear.
Breeana was quiet as she entered the arena. Her mind seemed to run in ten different directions. Sully spanned her waist with his hands, standing behind her in the queue at the ticket counter. It felt good when he touched her in a casual way. Too good…I could get used to this.
He whispered in her ear. “I know the stalker situation weighs on you, but we can’t disappoint Cody by being preoccupied.”
She turned to gaze at him, her head leaning against his chest. She gasped as his mouth brushed hers before he placed her at arm’s length.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what gets into me when you’re around.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I believe I’ll take that as a compliment, as long as you don’t make a habit of kissing all your assault victims.”
“Hey, I always pass on the ones with bushy beards and hairy chests.”
“Well, that’s comforting. I wouldn’t want you comparing me to a biker type.”
“Bite your tongue, woman.” He chuckled. “I have a feeling I wouldn’t find one stray hair on that female chest of yours. Although, perhaps I should check, just to be sure.”
“You could try,” she laughed, “if you don’t mind spending the rest of your life missing your exterior equipment. I should warn you I’m handy with a scalpel.”
“Ouch. Why don’t we call a truce and go out for dinner after the case is solved instead?” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a wallet. “I promise to leave your body parts untouched, at least until after we’ve eaten.”
“Why, be still my beating heart. I don’t think I’ve ever been on the receiving end of such a romantic invitation.”
“Romance? Forget it.” Sully’s expression sobered. “Who has time for that stuff when we could be dead within the week?”
And what kind of drivel is he spouting?
They reached the front of the line at the ticket counter. Sully paid for the tickets and escorted her into the building. Breeana tugged on his sleeve and dragged him into the nearest corner to finish their conversation in private. “What the heck was that all about?”
Sully quirked a sheepish grin, put his hands in his pockets, and studied the toes of his shit-kickers. “Listen, I wasn’t referring to you, or your present circumstances. You’ll get through this safely. I’ll make sure of it.”
Breeana stared at him. “Just who were you referring to then?”
“I was talking about myself. I’ve been in some pretty tight spots,” he said, sounding like the Oracle of Reason. “It doesn’t pay for me to think long-term.”
Talk about a defeatist attitude. Breeana had the urge to pop him in the jaw. Her brows furrowed as she continued to watch his face. “Really? I don’t agree with you. You see, my husband was in the military and died overseas. Yet, we still managed to have many wonderful years together, not be mention a child.”
“Listen, I know all about military life. I’m still a weekend warrior myself, all the more reason why I don’t get involved in personal relationships. I’m sorry to hear how your husband died, but as far as I’m concerned, he wasn’t thinking clearly when he married you. Maybe he should have stayed single if he planned to engage in combat situations.”
That did it. The man was certifiable. “Are you quoting from a Spec Ops manual or something? Because that is the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever heard. I must have missed reading that chapter when I was a military wife.”
Sully leveled his gaze on her and squeezed her shoulders. “Look, it’s how I feel, okay? I won’t risk loving a woman and leaving her to pick up the pieces if I don’t make it home to her. I don’t want her to feel the loss you’ve suffered, and I don’t want her raising our kids on her own.”
“You don’t understand love at all, Sully, not if you think it should come with a guarantee of happily-ever-after.” Breeana huffed out a breath. “I never asked, nor wanted, Tom to leave the military. He wouldn’t have been the same man if he had. Is that so hard for you to understand?”
He dropped his hands and shoved them in his pockets, rocking on his heels. “I guess it is. I believe when you defend society against the dregs of humanity, you can’t afford to have relationships. The risks are too great to your loved ones, the divorce rate too high. Tell me…loving Tom…was it worth the heartbreak of losing him?”
“Damn straight.” She nodded. “I only have to look at my son to reme
mber how lucky I was. How can you believe a woman isn’t strong enough to carry on if something happens to the man she loves?
“The women I know have inner strength and bravery in spades. And those women don’t do one night stands, Sully. Not for you. Not for anyone. They would rather risk it all for love. You know nothing about a woman’s love, or her strength, because you’ve always settled for less. I know your type. With you, it’s only about sex.”
She turned and strode into the arena, head held high and without a backward glance.
Chapter Six
The teams hit the ice a half-hour later. The crowd cheered as the whistle blew and the puck dropped at center ice. Breeana ignored Sully, hadn’t said one word after chewing him out for criticizing her marriage. He understood. He’d been way out of line.
They focused instead on the plays as the WARRIORS moved ahead for a 2-1 lead near the end of the second period. Just before the buzzer sounded, one of their players was hit from behind, resulting in a dislocated shoulder and possible concussion. The boy was taken out on a stretcher.
Their coach overreacted when a penalty wasn’t called on the play and received a game suspension. After Prewitt was removed from behind the bench, the other team seized the opportunity to even the score. The buzzer sounded to end the period, the gates opening for the Zamboni to clean the ice.
Prewitt shouted up to Sully in the stands, signaling for him to meet him below.
Sully touched Breeana’s shoulder as he moved past her along the row of seats and headed down to the ice. She acted as if he wasn’t there. “Stay here until I get back. I won’t be long.”
Ben Prewitt paced the corridor like a lion in a cage, huffing and puffing when Sully clamped a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?”
“Lieutenant, we don’t have much time. I need you to coach the WARRIORS for the third period.”
“What? You know I can’t,” Sully said, eyeing him. “Even if I had the qualifications, my name isn’t listed in the books as a coach for the team.”
Prewitt laughed and punched him in the arm. “I recognized you straight off, last night at practice. I saw you play for the Royal Military College. You were damn good, one of the best wingers I’ve ever seen. I heard some of the pro teams wanted you on their roster. Why’d you pass up a hockey career?”
“I wanted a military career and where it would take me more,” Sully admitted. “I still play hockey when I can. There’s an organization for street kids—”
“The WARRIORS need you right now, Lieutenant. Cody called me last night after practice, told me you’d be here today. I took the liberty of signing you up as alternate coach for the team. The organizers checked your stats and your qualifications aren’t in question.
“You know, my temper gets the better of me at these tournaments, especially if one of my kids gets hurt. You’re my ace in the hole. My defensive coach can’t handle the forward lines, or make the power play decisions, but you can. Besides, I’ll bet you’ve already sized up the team and know what the boys are capable of. Come on, what do you say?”
It didn’t take much for Sully to convince himself he could still watch over Breeana while giving the team a helping hand behind the bench. Sitting with her wasn’t doing either of them any good. They were worlds apart in every way that mattered.
He had hurt her. He could see it. He just didn’t know how to change things. He was a homicide cop and still a military man with his reserve unit. Even if he wanted to be Breeana’s lover, and he sure as hell did, she was right about one thing. It would only be for sex. There was no room in his life—or hers—for a romantic entanglement leading nowhere.
“Okay, man, you win. Where do I sign up?”
“Here’s your tourney ID, Lieutenant. Now get out there and kick some butt.” The coach shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to him along with an official pass. “Come down to the locker room and I’ll introduce you to the kids before we’re back on the ice.”
Shaking his head, Sully opened the gate and slid on the ice toward the visitor’s bench. “I’m not leaving the rink, Prewitt. I’ll be here when the team comes out.”
Scoping out the stands behind him, Sully assured himself Breeana was where he’d left her. No way he’d let her out of his sight. With the bleachers packed and standing room only at all the exits, she’d be safe as long as she stayed planted in that spot. His stress eased a fraction when her father pushed through the crowd and dropped into the seat Sully had vacated. Laura, their assistant at the clinic, grabbed a seat on the other side of Breeana. No worries.
****
Sully didn’t return to the stands when the teams hit the ice for the third period. Breeana guessed he was still angry and decided to guard her from a distance. That was fine by her. How dare he criticize her marriage, something he knew nothing about?
He was a machine without feelings, hollow inside, the perfect alpha male to take on criminals and protect the innocent. He just didn’t give a damn about those he protected. She was a job to him, nothing more. Except, he wanted to sleep with her, that much she could see. But sex for the sake of pleasure versus commitment to a loving relationship was a bridge she couldn’t easily cross.
Glancing in her son’s direction, she was dumbfounded. Sully stood behind the WARRIORS’ bench, watching her. She read his lips when he told her to stay put. By this time, her father and Laura had joined the crowd, no doubt breaking speed limits from Mallard Bay to make the last period of play. It was her dad who added some clarity to the situation, explaining Sully had played hockey during his days at the university.
“He and I talked a little about the military college and its hockey program the night of the fire, after you were in bed. He called me to make sure everything was okay at the clinic. Anyhow, I was wired, couldn’t sleep a wink, and somehow we got to talking hockey. He asked me not to say anything. I guess he didn’t want it to appear he was bragging, especially to Cody.”
Breeana’s heart did a happy dance inside her chest. Maybe she didn’t really understand the kind of man Sully was. He might disguise it well, but he obviously had some feelings. He hadn’t wanted to usurp her husband’s place as the hero in her son’s eyes.
That says a lot, doesn’t it?
The score was still 2-2 with only a minute left in the final period when Sully called time-out.
“What’s he doing, Dad?”
“He’s shortening the bench,” her father replied. “He’s going for the win. In tournaments like this, it’s important to get as many points as possible. A win is worth more points than a tie.”
“I don’t understand.”
Her father whispered in her ear. “With one minute left, Sully’s using the best players to get the winning goal.”
The whistle blew. Cody won the face-off and broke for the net, streaking down the ice without his wingers. He wound up to take the shot, drawing his stick back. An opposing player hooked him from behind. Cody slid sideways, plowing head first into the net. The goal posts jumped their moorings and slammed into the boards. Cody sprawled on his stomach and didn’t move. Breeana leapt from her seat, intent on reaching her son. Her father grabbed her jacket and held her, pulling her back down beside him.
“Sully’s with him, Bree. Let’s wait and see if he calls you down. You don’t want to embarrass your son in front of his teammates.”
“Dad…” Even knowing he was right, Breeana clenched and unclenched her hands, fidgeted in her seat until Sully got Cody up on his feet and skating toward the bench. The crowd went wild as the referee called a penalty shot on the play.
Breeana released the breath she held. Thank God, Cody is okay.
Sully reined Cody in and they talked for a minute before her son nodded. Then tapping his helmet, Sully sent him back out to center ice.
Her father nudged her shoulder. “See? What did I tell you? Cody’s fine. He’s taking the penalty shot himself.”
Breeana sat frozen in the stands, wishing the game would just end
. Her son must have one heck of a headache after sliding into the net. She wouldn’t breathe easy until she checked him herself and made sure he was all right.
The whistle blew. Rounding center ice, Cody picked up the puck on the second pass and skated for the net. The goalie came to the top of the crease, cutting down the angle, meeting him head-on. Deking left instead of right, Cody backhanded the puck. The goalie went down and missed with his glove as Cody buried it, top corner.
“Yes, he’s got it!” Laura leapt from her seat ringing a cowbell. The fans cheered. There was a lot of back slapping on the ice as the WARRIORS celebrated their victory. After shaking hands with the other team, the boys headed to the locker room.
Breeana got caught up in the crowd and streamed into the lobby with the others. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Laura, she stood on her tiptoes and scanned heads, looking for her father with their coffee orders. A man approached through the throng calling her name. He wore the yellow jacket of a tournament official.
“I’m Breeana McGill. Is something the matter?”
“Your son got back to the locker room and started vomiting, ma’am. His coach says there’s no cause for alarm but the kid seems to be disoriented. We’ve called an ambulance. It’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes?
“What’s the locker room number?” Breeana demanded. “I need to see my son.”
He angled his chin at the stairs behind her. “They’re in number ten.”
“Listen, I’m going there now. Have someone watch for the ambulance and escort the EMTs the second they arrive.”
“I’ll do it myself, ma’am. I’ll go outside and wait.”
“Thank you.”
She tugged on Laura’s arm as the tournament official pushed his way back through the crowd. “Tell Dad what’s happened. I need to check on Cody.”
Without waiting for an answer, Breeana shot down the nearest stairs, taking them two at a time. The downstairs hallway was dank, cold and dark. She guessed it must circle the perimeter of the ice surface, but it didn’t give any view of the arena itself. She must have missed the signs pointing to the locker rooms.
