Blocked

by Jami Davenport

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1—One Night Stand

  Chapter 2—A New Low

  Chapter 3—Tail Tucking

  Chapter 4—Darkness

  Chapter 5—Worst Company

  Chapter 6—Iced by the Coach

  Chapter 7—Dinner with the Family

  Chapter 8—In the Air

  Chapter 9—Busted

  Chapter 10—Nothing Going On

  Chapter 11—Demons of the Past

  Chapter 12—New Problem

  Chapter 13—Damage Control

  Chapter 14—Second-Favorite Sport

  Chapter 15—Permission

  Chapter 16—Persistence

  Chapter 17—Morning After

  Chapter 18—Chipping Away

  Chapter 19—Date on a Harley

  Chapter 20—Biker Chick

  Chapter 21—The Night

  Chapter 22—The Morning

  Chapter 23—Trouble Brewing

  Chapter 24—Zero to One Hundred

  Chapter 25—Payment Due

  Chapter 26—Calm Before the What?

  Chapter 27—The Clock Runs Down

  Chapter 28—To the Future

  Chapter 29—Exclusive

  Chapter 30—Missing

  Chapter 31—If Only

  Chapter 32—Lost and Found

  Chapter 33—Spring Sunshine

  Chapter 34—Sockeye Tattoos

  Complete Booklist

  About the Author

  Blocked

  A Puck Brothers Novel

  The Scoring Series

  SEATTLE SOCKEYES®

  By Jami Davenport®

  Copyright © 2020 by Cedrona Enterprises

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Jami Davenport. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

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  The Seattle Sockeyes®, Seattle Steelheads®, and Seattle Skookums™ are fictional sports teams. Game On in Seattle™ is a series of sports romance novels The names and logos are created for the sole use of the owner and covered under protection of trademark.

  Jami Davenport®, Seattle Sockeyes®, and Seattle Steelheads® are registered trademarks with the United States Patent and Trademark Office.

  This book is a work of fiction. While references might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-age readers.

  Email: jamidavenport@hotmail.com

  Website: https://www.jamidavenport.com

  Twitter: @jamidavenport

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  Blurb

  Axel:

  Playing for the Seattle Sockeyes is a dream come true. Yet in less than twenty-four hours, my life is a hot mess, and my dream has turned into a nightmare.

  It all starts when I have a one-night stand with my teammate's wife, only I'm not aware she's married, let alone his wife. Now she's stalking me, my teammate hates me, and I'm madly attracted to his sister.

  Not a situation I'd wish on anyone, especially me.

  Dedication

  To all those unsung heroes who go to work every day despite the consequences and keep the country running during a pandemic.

  This was a tough book to write. Not because of the book itself but because of what’s going on in the world. I wrote this book during the COVID-19 pandemic. Writing about our old normal while living a new normal is more difficult than I’d ever imagined.

  I hope this book gives you an opportunity to escape for even a short while.

  Stay safe. Stay strong. We will get through this.

  Love you all.

  Author’s Note

  I’d like to thank AJ Downey for her expertise on biker clubs. She generously allowed me to use her Sacred Heart Motorcycle Club in this book. If you haven’t read any of AJ’s books, you can check them out at https://www.ajdowney.com/

  Also thank you to Kat Mizera, one of my besties and a fantastic writer, for allowing my Sockeyes to play her Sidewinders in this book. You can find information on Kat’s books at: https://www.katmizera.com/

  Chapter 1—One Night Stand

  ~~Axel~~

  I lay on my back, and the redhead currently straddling my hips rode me harder than a professional bull rider in the championship ride. Her double-Ds bounced to the rhythm of her pistoning hips, and her long hair brushed across my chest hairs while her deep-red fingernails raked across my pecs.

  My eyes rolled back in my head as she slammed down hard on my cock and ground her pelvis into mine.

  Fuck. She was hot. Really hot.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  We’d been at it since early evening, and it had to be well after midnight. We’d taken a few breaks to pee and eat something, but I’d found out pretty fast that she wasn’t the type a guy wanted to hang out with and enjoy her company. Her body, yes, but carrying on an intelligent conversation, not happening.

  Not that she wasn’t intelligent, but her topics of conversation all revolved around sex. And why talk about it when you can do it? Not to mention, she was batshit crazy. I figured that out within the first five minutes when she all but fucked me in the hotel bar.

  I should’ve known better, but I was young and looking to party.

  She’d walked into the bar of the hotel where I was staying wearing only a miniskirt, low-cut tank with no bra, and killer heels. No raincoat. It was thirty-four degrees out and freezing rain in Seattle. At first, I thought she was working the streets, but later I decided she was a tourist looking for a way to pass the time.

  I’d arrived in town that morning. My hockey teammates were in California on a one-game road trip. Due to an injury at my position, I’d been called up from the minors last night and would meet up with them when they flew back into town sometime this morning.

  I was going to the big leagues. My dream come true. The thing I’d fought all my life for. Scott Monet, the third-line center, had broken a leg last night and was out for the season. When I’d gotten the call, I’d been elated yet sad, but injuries were part of the game. We all lived with them.

  And here I was in Seattle by myself and ready to party. This woman—Heidi? Hilda? Hannah? Whatever her name was—had been more than ready and willing to welcome me to my new life.

  The team had put me up in a luxury hotel within blocks of the SHAC, which was the Sockeyes Hockey Athletic Center near downtown Seattle. The building housed the team’s practice facility and administrative offices.

  After signing all the necessary paperwork, I’d driven to the hote
l and ordered a drink at the bar. The rest of the evening had stretched out in front of me. I was bored.

  When she’d walked in around five, I’d been nursing a beer and wondering what to do next. She sat down next to me and gave me a once-over. After a quick check of her hand for a wedding ring, I offered to buy her a drink. After all, she was smoking hot, and I was facing a night alone with my insecurities.

  We moved to a booth in a dark corner and drank way more than one drink. She rubbed my dick under the table to the point where I had to either do her right there or get the fuck out of there. Since management probably wouldn’t appreciate their newest rookie’s face being plastered everywhere as he fucked some random woman in a hotel bar, I suggested we go to my room.

  Her antics as I paid the bill and we left the bar had me doubting my decision, but I was young and horny, and my dick, as it often did, overrode what good sense I might possess. She’d been all over me as we walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Seconds later, we were naked on my bed and fucking like wild animals. We’d been in that state pretty much ever since.

  Now it was—I glanced at the bedside alarm clock—four a.m., and I was wearing out and sobering up. Not to mention, I was currently sporting my last condom.

  I helped her along so we could both come one more time. She looked tired, too, and I realized she wasn’t as young as I’d first guessed. She was probably in her late thirties. I enjoyed older women, so her age didn’t matter to me.

  She glanced at her phone, something she’d been doing all night to the point of annoyance. “Oh, shit. It’s that late? I have to go,” she announced with urgency.

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. I was ready to be done with her. “I’ll call you a cab.”

  “No.” She dug her claws painfully into my shoulders. “I don’t have enough time. You have to take me home. It’s not far.”

  I frowned, not certain what her hurry was. She scrambled off the bed and began yanking on her clothes. Puzzled at her about-face, I got up, disposed of the condom, pulled on my jeans, threw on a T-shirt, and looked for my keys.

  “Hurry up!” She stood near the door, impatiently tapping her foot.

  “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

  I sprinted after her as she bolted down the hallway for the elevator. We collected my car from the valet, and soon we were speeding down the side streets at her direction. I liked driving fast, and the streets were deserted this early in the morning, but she was taking the fun out of it with her constant bitching that I drive even faster.

  Her house wasn’t far. In about ten minutes, we pulled up to a large house in a good Seattle neighborhood. Only then did it strike me. This was a family home, not the kind of place you’d expect to find a single woman. I had a very bad feeling about this.

  Regardless, I didn’t ask questions. I wasn’t in the habit of screwing married women, and things weren’t looking good right about now.

  “Thanks. Later. I have to go.”

  The hair rose on the back of my neck, and I had the distinct impression something was wrong. “Are you married?”

  Her expression in the dashboard light was one of guilt and fear. “I have to go. It’s been fun, but—” She didn’t finish her sentence but fumbled with the door in a frenzy to get out as car headlights appeared in my rearview mirror.

  “Shit.” She glanced over her shoulder, her expression one of desperation.

  “What’s going on?”

  “My husband’s home early.” She leaped out of my car, then froze like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

  I was ten kinds of a fool. She’d played me like a cheap guitar. I might be a player, but I didn’t sleep with married women. I’d seen the devastation caused by an unfaithful spouse in my own family, and I’d never destroy someone else’s family for a night of sex.

  What happened next happened so fast it was a blur. I was yanked out of the driver’s seat by an incredible force and hauled to my feet. Before I had time to register what was happening, a fist slammed into my face. The sucker punch nearly knocked me out, and I went down. Hard. Hitting my ass on the concrete driveway and my head into the mud off to one side.

  “You fucking bastard. What the fuck are you doing with Bria?” The angry voice sounded vaguely familiar, but my brain, in its confusion, wasn’t registering why. My jaw throbbed like the bass in a hard rock concert.

  Bria? Wasn’t her name Heidi or something?

  I blinked away the blurriness and focused on the man towering above me as I lay in the mud puddle next to the driveway. As the man’s face became clear, I gaped in stunned silence. A couple other faces were visible beyond him, all as stunned as I was.

  Being a little loopy from his fist, I fixated on one thing. Why were my teammates here, and why were they glaring at me? I wasn’t putting two and two together. Bria stood off to one side, her hands covering her mouth and a horrified expression on her face.

  “What? What are you guys doing here?” I said stupidly.

  The guy who’d coldcocked me was one of my teammates, Jacques “Jock” Frontier, the backup goalie on the Sockeyes. The two guys behind him were also Sockeyes—Gage “Ziggy” Ziegler and Kaden Westbrook.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Jock shot back. His gaze went from me to Bria and back to me. His hands were fisted, and he appeared ready to pummel me into dust.

  My brain was still groggy, and I still wasn’t getting it. Nothing fit. Nothing clicked.

  “I was giving her a ride home.”

  Bria said nothing. She wasn’t going to give me any kind of help.

  “From where?” Jock growled, but by the look on his face, he knew what we’d been doing.

  Ziggy and Kaden pulled me to my feet, using their bodies as a wall of muscled steel between my teammate and me.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Jock shouted, lunging for me again. The guys managed to hold him back. “That’s my wife.”

  Chapter 2—A New Low

  ~~Geneva~~

  A ruckus erupted outside my big brother’s house, the kind you don’t usually hear in a good neighborhood like this. I would know. I’d lived in plenty of bad ones.

  Alarmed and fearing for my bro’s five kids asleep upstairs, I grabbed a baseball bat and ran outside to see what the fuck was going on. And me without my .38 Special. My brother didn’t like guns in the house with all these rug rats.

  I stopped dead on the porch. My brother was being held back by two brawny guys I recognized as his teammates, while another guy in mud-caked clothing backed away from him. Even in his disheveled state, he was stunningly handsome. He absently wiped mud and blood from his face but succeeded in merely smearing it around that gorgeous mug of his. I didn’t recognize the bloodied guy, but I knew the other two.

  Meanwhile, my brother’s skank of a wife watched the scene with the look of a caged rat, as if she’d finally been caught with her claws on the cheese.

  I bet she had.

  I fall asleep for ten minutes, and I miss all the action.

  I’d have given anything to be the one who’d found that bitch, and I wouldn’t have been as nice as the men. I didn’t have to be. No one expected nice from me. I was Geneva Bouchard, Jacques Frontier’s baby sister, but there was nothing baby about me. I was badass and proud of it. I had the Harley, tattoos, and ex-biker boyfriend to prove it.

  I focused the full force of my fury on Jock’s wife. I leveled her with a glare that brought most women to their knees begging for mercy—and quite a few men. The bitch turned her nose up at me, unaffected by my disgust. Now that really chapped my hide.

  Bria was supposed to be having a girls’ night out while the nanny watched the five kids. Obviously, she wasn’t hanging out with the girls, but the pretty boy—currently not looking so pretty.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you,” my brother howled in frustration as he struggled to free himself from the iron hold on his arms. “You’re dead, Vanderbuel.” So, there was a bit of me in him after all.
I almost grinned, but now wasn’t the time.

  The object of my brother’s hatred blinked several times, like he was shell-shocked and had no idea how he got here or why this had happened. A millisecond of sympathy surged through me, quickly replaced by my own brand of anger for this dickhead who’d mess with a married woman and mother of five children.

  “I didn’t know,” the guy croaked in agony. He shot an accusatory glare in my sister-in-law’s direction. She ducked her head and didn’t look at anyone. I wanted to slap her beautiful face for putting my brother through this once again.

  I’d never liked Bria. Never. In fact, no one in our family cared much for her. She didn’t like any of us either. I wasn’t even sure she liked my brother. She’d gone looking for a rich hockey player and snagged my brother when he was a naïve, vulnerable rookie and didn’t know about women like her. Jock hadn’t grown up with love, and he’d craved it. I, on the other hand, rejected it.

  Neither she nor my brother was good at using birth control. I assumed she used those kids to rope my brother into being stuck with her no matter what she did. Other than the inconvenience of being pregnant, she didn’t deal much with the kids. Jock always had a nanny, sometimes two.

  I’d long suspected she didn’t spend her nights alone when Jock was on a road trip, but now we had explicit proof. Surely, my brother would divorce her, though he’d put up with a lot in their sixteen years of marriage.

  “I’m sorry.” The guy called Vanderbuel pleaded with my brother. He seemed genuinely sorry. “I didn’t know she was married, especially not to a teammate.”

  He was Jock’s teammate? This was a low blow even for her. She’d never messed around with any of the Sockeyes as far as I knew, and I knew a lot. Vanderbuel? Of course, the guy who just got called up because of an injury on the team. I’d been preparing his equipment just today, instead of going on the one-day road trip with the rest of the equipment staff.