The Penalty Box: A hockey sports romance novel (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 3)

by Odette Stone

  Me: Love you.

  Chapter 6

  MICA

  The Wolves had publicly announced my suspension and everyone seemed to feel the need to call me. I spent the morning scrubbing the kitchen and cleaning up the remains of my living room furniture while avoiding the barrage of phone calls and texts that were blowing up my phone.

  Overwhelming restlessness pushed me to get into my car and go for a drive. After four hours of highway driving, I rolled into Kelowna. I drove to one of the provincial parks that bordered the Okanagan Lake and, on a whim, went for a walk through the pine forest and along the shore. After my walk, out of boredom, I stopped at one of the local vineyards and bought two cases of wine. Then I sat alone at a restaurant bar for dinner, careful to keep my face away from the hustle of the restaurant. I debated staying overnight, but once I was back in my car, the long stretch of highway driving tempted me. Being alone in my car was the one thing that still felt normal.

  It was late when I got to my house. A house that no longer felt like home. It felt broken, like it had been in a fight and lost. I scrolled through dozens and dozens of messages, finding a couple of texts from Ryan. I wished I had called him earlier, but now it was too late. The guy was one of my closest friends, and I had been pushing him away just like everyone else. I promised myself I’d call him tomorrow.

  My mind was alert, but my body felt fatigued. I crawled into bed and realized what I craved. I wanted sex. Mindless hot sex. I didn’t want to jerk off. I wanted the soft warm flesh of a woman beneath me.

  Get used to it, I told my dick. You’ve got a long year of celibacy ahead of you.

  I had just fallen asleep when my phone buzzed with another call. Disgusted that no one seemed capable of taking a hint, I lifted my phone to turn it off.

  Missed call from Charlie Watts

  It was after 2:00 in the morning. Why was she calling me so late? Sheer curiosity made me push the redial button.

  “Hello?” her voice cracked.

  My voice was harder than I intended. “You called?”

  Her voice wobbled. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, but I didn’t know who else to call.”

  I leaned over and turned on my bedside lamp. “What’s wrong?”

  “I tried calling Krista, but her phone is off.”

  “Charlie, what’s wrong?”

  Her voice hitched. “My house burned down. They think it’s arson.”

  I swung my legs over the side of my bed and moved towards the mountain of clothes still piled in the middle of the room. “Where are you?”

  “At the hospital.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No. They want to make sure I don’t have any smoke inhalation issues, but I’m fine.”

  I picked a T-shirt off the floor. “Which hospital?”

  “The VGH.”

  “I’m on my way.” I hung up, got dressed and got back into my car.

  I found her sitting alone on an emergency bed, holding an oxygen mask to her face. Her ash-white skin was covered in soot, and she was barefoot, wearing a pair of yoga pants and a white tank top.

  “Are you okay?”

  She seemed physically okay, but she sounded stressed. Her eyes looked huge as she apologized. “Sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She sounded shocked, like she couldn’t believe what had happened. “I had just gotten home from my shift at the bar. I was washing my face when the place filled with smoke. When I opened my door, there was so much smoke I couldn’t see, but I crawled down the stairs and got out. Everyone in my apartment got out in time.”

  Anger washed over me at the thought of her fighting her way out of a burning building. “Why do they think it’s arson?”

  Her bottom lip trembled as she tried to keep a lid on her emotions. “The police said there were trails of burn marks on the grass. They said it was from an accelerant.”

  “What about your car?”

  “It’s fine, but I left the keys to my car in my apartment.” Her voice went up a notch. “I don’t have anything. I don’t even have a wallet or my bank card.”

  I looked around. “Can you leave?”

  “I have to be cleared by a doctor.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stood watching the activity in the room. Charlie remained huddled beside me, breathing into her mask. We didn’t speak as we waited, so I used that time to think about what she’d said.

  Had the fire resulted from her connection to Yazimoto? Would they really try to take out someone who was paying them off every month? It made little sense.

  Finally, the doctor came over to listen to her lungs.

  “Your throat and eyes will be sore. If you notice you are short of breath or your heart races, come back to Emergency, but I think you got lucky.”

  “I can go?”

  “You can go.”

  We both watched him walk away.

  Her voice sounded small. “I don’t know what to do now. I don’t even know why I called you.”

  “You’re coming home with me,” I instructed, my voice gruff.

  Without argument, she slid off the bed and followed me into the cool night air.

  We walked through my front door.

  “Wait here,” I instructed her. I went back to my pile of clothes and grabbed a clean T-shirt, hoodie, and a pair of sweats for her to wear.

  She hovered near the door, uncertainty written all over her face.

  “Follow me.” I led her down the opposite hallway, past the pantry, laundry room, and through the guest room, before I flipped on the bathroom light. I checked to make sure there were towels hanging before I turned to her.

  “You probably want a shower. Here are some clean clothes.”

  Gratitude made her bow her head. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  It was the middle of the night, but I waited for her to come out of the shower, taking that time to think about everything. Why would someone burn her apartment down? It seemed much more than a prank gone bad. Whoever had started that fire had picked a time when the tenants were home, including Charlie.

  The other day, when I told her I hated bullies, I hadn’t been lying. People who used an imbalance of power to threaten, abuse or intimidate another person were complete scum in my eyes. It was something I had stood up against my entire life. I considered myself easygoing except when I witnessed someone being abused. I always went to the mat to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Defending people was part of my DNA. In hockey, I defended my goalie. In life, I defended anyone I thought needed my help. And right now, Charlie was the object of my protection, for no other reason than because she didn’t deserve what was happening to her.

  She appeared at the edge of the kitchen, half drowning in my hoodie and sweats. Her long, wet hair clung in strands down her back. Her face was washed bare, and those freckles stood out against the white pallor of her skin. Her clothes were in a ball, tucked under her arm. She appeared so vulnerable that I had an urge to hug her.

  I tried to assess how she was holding up.

  Her voice hesitated. “Could I borrow your washing machine?”

  I led her back into the laundry room. I watched her stuff her clothes into the machine and then I reached above her to dump in some detergent. She shut the lid and looked up at me.

  I squinted at the buttons, not sure what to press. “Do you know how to use this?”

  Her eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t say a word. She simply reached across and pressed one button. The machine started to hum.

  I looked at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded.

  I had to ask. “Do you think Yazimoto set the fire?”

  Her lip wobbled dangerously and her voice squeaked. “I don’t know.”

  Shit. Tears were my kryptonite. “Let’s deal with that in the morning.”

  She nodded, biting her lip, working not to cry.

  “You
can sleep in the guest room.”

  Big brown eyes glistening with tears met mine. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Get some sleep.” I wanted to comfort her but my voice sounded gruff.

  With another tremulous glance my way, she vanished into the guest bedroom.

  I retreated to my bedroom, but despite my long day, I couldn’t sleep. Krista’s words about how tough it would be for Charlie to transition into my life came back to me. Tonight, Charlie had lost everything. I had to hand it to her. Most women would be in hysterics. She had handled it with determined stoicism. With no other options, she had called me and asked for help. Knowing how feisty and independent she was, I couldn’t imagine how much that phone call had cost her to make.

  I thought it’d bug me to have her move in. In fact, I had been dreading having to share my space, but in my need to shelter her from those more powerful than her, it gave me a level of satisfaction that she was tucked safely in my guest room, away from anyone who might try to harm her.

  I needed to get a hold of Andrusha. Tonight, things had escalated, and it was time to call in a friend who could offer a real solution.

  Not being able to practice, work with my trainer or see my team was the worst kind of punishment. It drove the point home that I was not interested in life without hockey. In desperate need of exercise, despite the early hour and lack of sleep, I went for a lengthy run. I enjoyed how the cool air felt sharp in my lungs, the mist coated my face and my legs burned to the point of pain. As I ran under a long bridge, my senses kicked in. Someone was under this bridge with me. I stopped and spun around, ready to defend myself.

  Andrusha stepped out from the shadows, speaking to me in Russian. “You’ve never lost your edge.”

  I responded, loving how my first language felt on my tongue. “You’re about as sneaky as a rhino.”

  He laughed and then immediately sobered. “I’m sorry to have to approach you this way. I figured you were in enough shit with the cops that you didn’t need to be seen with me.”

  I put my hands on my hips, still breathing hard. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “The police cast a wide net, hoping to catch a fish, but they caught nothing. Nothing except an innocent hockey player. I heard on the news they suspended you. And tossed your house.”

  I worked to steady my breath. “They wanted me to turn informant on you. I told them to fuck off.”

  “Mica, out of everyone, you got the worst of this. They found nothing in my warehouse, nothing in my home. They have nothing on me, so this is going nowhere. This will blow over for you.”

  “That’s good.”

  He eyed me, always knowing me better than anyone else. “What are you holding back?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  People in my life always told me I was wild and reckless. Compared to Andrusha, I was tame. He was the epitome of a crazy Russian. In the same minute, he could flip between being a stone-cold killer and gushing over a baby in a stroller. His personality embraced the extremes of the worst sinner and the greatest saint. Growing up, my only claim to fame was that I could outrun and out-skate him.

  “What do you know about Yazimoto?”

  Andrusha’s face clouded, and he spit over his left shoulder. “Sake-drinking bastard.”

  “So, he’s not an ally?”

  Andrusha leaned forward, passionate about the topic. “The Sasori run their business like a cold corporation, and they have absolutely no soul. I pride myself on running a family-focused business.” He shook his head in disgust. “He’s bad for all of us. Since he took a foothold, there are more police raids, and he puts everyone on the radar because he doesn’t give a fuck. He’s created a hostile environment with authorities, and no one likes it. Why do you want to know about that dirtbag, anyway?”

  “A woman I know got saddled with her brother’s debt to Yazimoto. She’s on the infinite debt repayment plan.” My voice hardened. “I want that debt cleared and I want him out of her life.”

  Andrusha’s face softened. “A woman, hey? Last time I saw you go to bat for a girl, you were in grade school. If I recall, she also crushed your iron heart. Who is this woman?”

  “The woman I am going to marry.”

  Andrusha’s face slackened in shock. “You don’t believe in marriage.”

  I explained that this was the one way I could come back from getting traded, and it was still a long shot.

  “Mica, Mica.” He shook his head. “This is my fault. I should have never called you the other night.”

  “No,” I interrupted him. “I wanted to see you.”

  He looked sad. “I promised myself I would never let my life touch or harm yours. I’ve already broken that promise.”

  “You’re family, Andrusha. You always will be. Can you set me up a meeting with Yazimoto?”

  He shook his head. “Let me handle Yazimoto.”

  “I don’t need you to do my dirty work.”

  “Mica, let me take care of that rat. I’ve been looking for a reason to pick a fight with that guy, and I have five other associates looking to do the same.”

  The last thing I wanted was for Charlie to become the poster child of a turf war between gangs.

  “Charlie’s safety is my priority.”

  “Yazimoto is a snake that steals from the chicken coop. He doesn’t want a war. He’s too careful about not provoking a direct conflict with any of us. You can trust me that she will be safe.”

  I trusted Andrusha. I had always trusted Andrusha, and he had never let me down. I nodded. “Thanks. Her name is Charlie Watt.”

  He nodded. “That is a good strong name. She will have to be strong to put up with you.”

  I shrugged and didn’t deny that statement. “She’s tough. Her brother is in prison.”

  “I’ll make sure he’s safe too.”

  I didn’t ask how. I didn’t want to know.

  Andrusha handed me a phone. “For emergencies. Someone will always be on the other end of the number I have programmed in there. If you ever need to get in touch with me, need help or need to talk with no one listening in, you use this phone.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “We shouldn’t see each other for a while.”

  I knew that. “Right.”

  “But”—he slapped my shoulder—“I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

  Chapter 7

  CHARLIE

  I felt disoriented as I opened my eyes, squinting against the soft sunlight that streamed in through the balcony doors. Sitting up, I took a better look at the large guest room. Someone had decorated the room in a delicate blue and white that accented the sturdy, white-painted furniture.

  I felt no real loss over my apartment. It had been nothing but a shitty holding place while I tried to get out of debt, but I felt uncertain now that I had no home. I had no idea where to go next.

  Last night, when I was sitting alone in Emergency, and Krista hadn’t answered her phone, I realized I had no one else to call. Two years of working two jobs had left me with no real friends. I hadn’t wanted to call Mica, but I had no choice. And somehow, I knew he would step up for me. It surprised me when he brought me home. At best, I thought he’d give me money to stay at a hotel.

  Now I needed to figure out my next steps. I needed to get a hold of Krista. She would offer me a place to crash. I tried her number again, but her phone was still off. I showered and then dressed myself again in Mica’s clothes. I crept out of the bedroom, but the house was silent. I found a note on the counter in a thick, masculine scrawl. Went for a run.

  I moved my clothes to the dryer and then stood in his kitchen, looking around the place. It looked better than it had the other day, but the couch was nearly destroyed and no one had rehung the paintings that still leaned against the wall.

  The alarm chirped and then Mica appeared, breathing hard, his hair wet from exertion.

  Without speaking, he moved into the kitchen and fille
d a glass with water before downing it. I stole that moment to take in the breadth of his shoulders and hard muscles beneath his T-shirt.

  “Thank you for last night.”

  He shrugged.

  I tried again. “I’m still trying to get a hold of Krista. I’ll be out of your hair shortly.”

  “You might as well stay here since we’re getting married.”

  I blinked. That hadn’t exactly been the most welcoming offer. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be here.

  He set the glass down. “I’m going to shower. Then we need to go buy you some clothes.”

  I didn’t have a dime to my name. If we went shopping, he’d need to pay. I would wait until I got in touch with Krista. She could lend me money, and I could buy my own clothes. “That’s not necessary.”

  His eyes dropped over my body, taking in my bare feet and his sweats. “You need clothes.”

  I wanted to protest. But he had me there. I didn’t even have a toothbrush to my name. I needed his help.

  I promised. “I’ll pay you back.”

  He shrugged, uncaring, as he put his glass in the sink. “Give me fifteen.”

  Wearing my yoga pants, tank top and Mica’s hoodie, along with a pair of his big flip-flops that looked completely ridiculous on my feet, I didn’t speak as he parked at the nearest mall.

  I couldn’t keep up with his long strides and he seemed incapable of walking slow, so our progress across the parkade consisted of him walking ahead of me then stopping and turning to watch me try to catch up to him. On any other day, I would have thrown some sarcastic shade his way, but not today. I felt about as vulnerable as I had ever felt, and I was completely at his mercy. The guy was about to spend his money to buy me clothes. He could get away with murder today, and he wouldn’t get a peep out of me.

  I had a game plan. I would buy two pairs of pants and two shirts that I could wear at both my bar job and at work, and I would alternate washing them until I got paid. Then I could come back and buy more clothes.