I snicker, gazing out the windshield again. “I predict, one day far from now, when we’re married with kids and a white picket fence, you’ll look back on Matthew fondly and be glad of what he did.”
“Never,” he mutters, but then he whips his head my way. “You think we’ll get married?”
I blink in surprise. Until he just asked that, I hadn’t even realized I’d mentioned marriage.
And kids.
It just sort of came out naturally, like I assumed it would happen.
I give a tiny shrug. “I guess. I mean… I love you. You love me. You’re my best friend. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I’d be happy spending my entire life with you. So… isn’t marriage sort of what people in our situation do?”
Kane chuckles, pulling my hand up so he can kiss my knuckles. “Yes, that’s traditionally what happens. But everything about us has been unconventional so far. I mean, look at us right now… discussing marriage as if it were the weather. We can do whatever we want. We don’t even have to have a wedding—we could just call ourselves life partners.”
“Oh no,” I say, waving my other hand. “My mother would have a fit if she couldn’t see me married in a dream wedding.”
This time, I get a narrow-eyed, searching stare from Kane… long enough I’m worried he’ll run off the road. When his attention turns front and center again, he says, “Got it. Marriage it is then.”
Odd how just weeks ago, the notion would have been foreign to me. I would have rolled my eyes if someone told me I’d soon be in love, committed, and looking to be with a man for the long haul.
Yet here I am, and it doesn’t feel strange at all.
CHAPTER 21
Kane
Not going to lie.
It was hard as hell to get my head in the game tonight, but I think I managed it. Knowing Mollie was in the stands while we took on the New York Phantoms—safe and secure—helped the most.
It’s been a bit nerve-wracking since Mollie sent that email to Matthew. It had been carefully worded with the help of Dr. Corinne Ellery. She felt the best way to get his attention, and a response, was to be upfront about her anger over what he did, but to express clear confusion and a need to understand his actions. After the requisite request they meet in public—because she knew he was in Phoenix since she saw him that day—her last line was supposedly what would hook him.
She had written, “I can’t move on from this until I have some closure from you.”
According to Dr. Ellery, this would make him furious enough—how dare she think she could move on?—that he would most likely take the bait.
We sent the email yesterday before we boarded the flight to New York, but we haven’t heard anything back. It’s been torture waiting for a response, and even more frustrating that he hadn’t responded right away.
Still, Mollie is safe here with me, and we have a game plan. So, with those two things in mind, I was one hundred percent in my head as a hockey player determined to win.
The Phantoms played fierce, as they made some excellent off-season moves. I have a feeling they are going to be a strong contender down the road. We managed to pull out a 2-1 victory with the goals going to Bishop and Jett, and the assists to Dax and Jim. Still, our second line put on a good show. Despite not being able to make a personal connection with Riggs off the ice, we are getting along fabulously with our skates on. In the brief time we’ve been practicing and having pre-season games, he’s been able to integrate himself seamlessly into our style of play.
Since the team plane won’t head to Pittsburgh until morning, most players disperse for a few hours out in the Big Apple.
Mollie and I head out to a bar close to the hotel for a few beers. The group includes me, Mollie, and my second-line teammates, excluding Riggs, who declined our invitation. Erik and Blue also joined us, though Blue has another three months until their baby is born and can’t drink.
We manage to pull together two small round tables to stand at, and a waitress serves us fairly quickly.
Mollie and Blue, the only women in our group, not surprisingly stand near each other. I flank Mollie’s left with Erik on Blue’s right. Jett, Jim, and Bain crowd in around the tables.
“Here’s to a great win,” Erik says as he holds his beer up in the middle of our group. We all tap our bottles to his—except Blue, who is drinking water but holds hers up all the same—and exclaim our agreement.
“How much longer are you going to fly with the team?” Mollie asks Blue.
A hand rubbing at her tummy, she says, “Not much. Like, this is probably my last trip.”
“No probably. It is her last trip.” Erik’s tone says he’s in charge of this issue, and he will not debate on the matter. It’s clear they’ve already had an in-depth discussion about it. “She’s not schlepping drinks and food anymore.”
“How does it work when the delivery date gets close?” Mollie inquires to Erik. “Will you take time off before and after?”
Erik’s lips quirk up, and he and Blue exchange a long look. It’s Blue who answers. “Obviously, Erik will try to be here for the birth, but let’s say he’s on an away trip and I go into labor early… In that case, Brooke will be my backup person in the delivery room.”
Mollie’s gaze bounces from Blue to Erik to Blue and then back to Erik. “So, there’s a chance you could miss it?”
“Hopefully not,” he replies, but then somberly admits. “But it’s always a chance when your job is fifty percent travel and babies are unpredictable.”
“And after… you’ll take paternity leave?” Mollie pushes.
“Not really,” Blue replies with a laugh. “I mean… we’re in the running for the Cup again. He’s crucial to every game.”
“But… but… that doesn’t seem fair,” Mollie exclaims.
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Lots of players have families. They work out among themselves what is comfortable for them. But most players keep on playing. It’s part of our devotion to the job.”
“And when the team is home,” Erik adds. “There’s plenty of time between games for me to catch up on baby time.”
Blue nods enthusiastically, not seeming to be disturbed by the fact she’ll be a single mom for a good chunk of the time. She has to be at least a bit scared and overwhelmed.
“What can I do to help?” Mollie asks, and her words warm me. I love that she considers herself a part of this hockey family.
“I will let you know when I figure it out,” Blue answers, laughing. “All you ladies have volunteered to help. It’s going to be a group effort while Erik’s traveling for sure.”
Erik leans over, then kisses the top of Blue’s head. “You know I’d rather be with you, though, right?”
“Right,” she replies with a firm nod. “But I have our hockey family ready to step in when needed.”
The conversation shifts to other things, but I can tell Mollie hasn’t let go of the concept of having a child with a professional hockey player who might sometimes have to put his career over his woman’s needs.
Over his child.
It’s a hard concept to explain. Personally, I hadn’t ever given it a lot of thought because kids didn’t seem to be on my horizon anytime soon. But I’d never thought anything was amiss when my teammates’ wives had kids while their husband’s work-life went on as usual for the most part.
I mean… I’ve played on teams where some of the players took a bit of time off, but… it’s just sort of understood that each player is needed for every game. On top of that, most hockey wives would agree. They’re sort of the core of the team’s spirit and motivation. The wives are as invested in winning as their men, and I’ve never heard any complain—at least not outright—over not having their husband present all the time.
A thought occurs to me. I study Jim from across the table. He’s currently laughing at something Jett is saying to Mollie.
Jim admittedly neglected his wife and marriage, which led to their separati
on. It makes me wonder… did it start right from the beginning?
When Lucy was born?
Was Jim not there enough to meet Ella’s needs? Does Lucy feel neglected, too?
I shake my head, dispelling the thoughts. But my gaze goes to Mollie, and I wonder what I’d do if she were pregnant.
Or rather… what would she want? I realize that has a lot to do with it.
Christ… for as much as we know each other and can practically finish each other’s sentences, I’m in the dark here. Of course, the subject matter is a bit premature, but, hell, we were casually discussing marriage not long ago.
A flood of affection for Mollie and all we’ve been through, and all we’ve become to each other recently, overwhelms my senses. I can’t help but slip my arm around her to pull her close.
She immediately tips her head up with a sweet smile that clearly says she very much likes my arm around her. Not able to fucking help myself, I lean down and brush my lips over hers before whispering, “Love you.”
“Love you back,” she murmurs.
A gagging sound comes from across the table, Jett exaggeratedly acting like he might throw up at any point. We all laugh because it’s fun to rib our teammates—and, by extension, their women.
“You know,” Bain ruminates as he grins at us. “It’s so weird seeing you be affectionate.”
“Why?” I demand with a laugh. “I’m a generally nice and affable dude.”
“Yeah, but it’s like you just met Mollie,” Jett says, stepping into the conversation. “You’ve only been dating a few weeks, but you’re all “I love you” and making moon eyes at each other. It’s like it happened overnight.”
“But it technically had a ten-year head start,” Mollie points out.
I squeeze Mollie, smirking at Jett. “Don’t listen to him, babe. He’s just jealous the better man won your heart.”
Everyone around the table starts chuckling and teasing Jett, who laughs it off good-naturedly. He even admits, “I knew Mollie’s heart wasn’t in it during our one date. All she did was yammer on about that bonehead.”
“Well, I think it’s fucking cool,” Erik says, lifting his beer to make a toast. “In fact, theirs is the best kind of love story—one that has been built over time. It’s a luxury we should envy. I’m happy for you two.”
Everyone raises their drinks to toast us. Mollie blushes, and I feel like I won the Cup all over again. Of course, I think like that around Mollie a lot.
We hang for a few hours, slowly drinking our beers while ordering nachos and buffalo wings to share. Blue eats a burger, joking she’s eating for two. Since I don’t have that excuse, I promise myself I’ll sneak in an early morning run before we have to get on the bus to go to the airport.
Blue yawns first. When Erik insists they’re leaving, we all decide we’re ready to head to the hotel.
Jim’s rooming alone tonight, a situation I’m sure he’s just as grateful for as I am.
Mollie and I make our way to our room. As soon as we’re inside with the door closed, I’m grabbing her around the waist. She laughs, turning in my arms, and we start kissing.
We’re both buzzed, so we half stumble to the bed while trying to keep our mouths fused and take off our clothes at the same time.
I’ve only managed to get her shirt off before I’m pushing her down on the bed and falling on top of her. My lips go to the center of her chest for a light kiss, then I rise to unclasp the front of her bra.
Before I can flick it open, though, Mollie’s phone dings from somewhere inside her purse. We both freeze.
Our eyes lock, and I know we are thinking the same thing.
Is it him?
It’s been that way ever since we sent that fucking email. Every time the damn phone makes a noise, a jolt of adrenaline washes through me, filling me with horrified anticipation.
Mollie pushes me off her with a huge heave, then scrambles off the bed for her purse. She pulls the phone out as I pop up, and I crowd right behind her so I can see over her shoulder.
With efficiency, she unlocks her screen and moves to her email.
My head goes a little dizzy as I take in the bolded email right at the top—it’s from Matthew.
Whistling through her teeth, Mollie taps on the screen to bring it up for full view.
There’s no greeting—only a short response.
I was surprised to hear from you, Mollie, but I’m not sure how to take your request. Perhaps we can talk over the phone?
Matthew
Kynan had prepared us for this. That Matthew might want to engage in conversation through either voice or digital means. The investigator had advised us not to wind him up as he’ll just draw us down a rabbit hole.
As they spent time going over many different scenarios, Mollie already knows what response Dr. Ellery recommended to send.
I’m sorry, Matthew, but I want this over. I’m going to be at Perlman’s on 3rd Avenue at 5 PM on Thursday. I’ll be at an outdoor table. If you want to talk, please come. Otherwise, I’ll move on without the closure I need.
Mollie tips her head to the side, eyebrows raised in question. “Good?”
It’s precisely what Dr. Ellery told Mollie to write. The doctor believes Matthew won’t be able to resist the urge to see her—and perhaps even taunt her—since they’ll be in a public place.
“Send it,” I advise.
When she does, we both realize the wheels are in motion for a resolution. Either Matthew will show up and Jameson will take him down, or he won’t and I’ll hire Jameson to go on a manhunt. It might be expensive and take more time, but it will be worth it.
Mollie throws the phone down on the bed, pivoting into my arms. Her voice is glum. “I don’t feel like having sex now.”
“Neither do I,” I commiserate—which is a total lie. I’d have sex with Mollie every minute of every day, but that’s obviously not what she needs right now. “Let’s just get in bed and cuddle. And turn off your phone. If he responds, tomorrow morning will be soon enough to read it.”
She nods against my chest. “That’s one of the things I love about you. You just get me.”
I do.
And it’s one of the things I love about her as well.
Along with about a million other things.
CHAPTER 22
Kane
The men Kynan brought with him to Phoenix certainly look capable. As we sit in my dining room and go through the finer details of the plan they’ve formulated, I covertly study them.
Seated opposite of me is a giant of a man—at least two inches taller than my height of six-foot-three—with dark hair, a beard, and a cool-as-fuck name.
Cruce Britton.
Kynan introduced Cruce as former Secret Service, their best marksman, and said his attention to detail in protective services is unparalleled. He’s the one who has come up with the plan on how to take Matthew down.
The other man—Saint Bellinger—who is seated opposite of Mollie, is a bit of a conundrum. Impeccably dressed in a suit, he looks like he’d be on his way to a business meeting with Dominik rather than on a mission to take down a criminal. But Kynan assured us that Saint is one of his finest agents.
“I’m afraid he’s just too unstable to risk putting Mollie near him,” I say for—I think—the third time. Maybe the fourth.
After Mollie sent Matthew a return email from the hotel in New York on Sunday, we thought it would be the end of it. He’d either accept or decline her invitation.
Instead, he replied the next day with a bitter rant—going on and on about how she’d callously cut him from her life. Even more disturbing was his acerbic rage when he’d admitted he knew she’d fled to Phoenix to be with me.
To be specific, Matthew had written, I know you’re fucking him, and it’s driving me crazy.
That was it for me. I was ready to quit the Vengeance, pack Mollie up, and relocate to the wilds of Canada until this guy could be caught and brought to justice.
Mo
llie was brilliant, though. I urged her to get Dr. Ellery’s advice, but she’d replied right back with a firm denial, insisting I was only a friend and that she was offended he would think anything different.
She’d typed, I’m just trying to understand you, but you’re bringing up things that have no relevance here.
We’d held our breath, waiting to see what his reply would be.
It came quickly, and he’d backpedaled. Apologized for the accusation, then agreed to meet her at the appointed date and time.
Now, here we are, and I have so many doubts about this plan that I’m starting to think our relocation to Canada might still be the best shot at safety and peace.
“Here’s the thing,” Kynan replies, addressing my concerns. “There’s no doubt this guy is touched in the head. He has an obsession with Mollie, which means he has the capacity to turn violent. But we still believe this is the fastest way to take him down. We aren’t sure where he is as he’s not using a credit card for a hotel. We assume he’s camping out somewhere, but that makes finding him without using bait difficult.”
“On top of that,” Cruce adds, “setting them to meet in a public place is sort of like handcuffing him. It’s our belief that he won’t attempt to hurt her with other people around and watching.”
“We’ll be close by, too,” Saint reassures us.
In fact, they’d even managed to get the manager of the restaurant to agree to seat Saint right beside Mollie’s table so he’d be within arm’s reach of her. Cruce would be nearby, too, with a gun trained on Matthew.
I understood it was a solid plan, but what had impressed me the most about hiring Jameson Security was the fantastic contacts they had in the local police department. Plainclothes officers would be stationed nearby, ready to take Matthew into custody.
I’m still not sure how they pulled that off—getting the police to allow them to conduct this mission and then be there for the arrest. Mollie and I had been unsuccessful in getting much assistance from the police at all, but, in a way, I understood their lack of resources. Jameson was the way to go. It costs a good chunk of money but would be well worth it.
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