“I’m going to own you. I’m going to own this whole fucking team. You’ll come around when you see what I have to offer. What I can take away. Like your job, your reputation. You’ll never work in hockey again.”
Savannah kept working, even as her blood boiled. She ripped off the last piece of tape, leaning to the side to give herself some space while she tossed it into the trash. Relief flooded her when she saw Mike Erdo in the hallway. His back was to the door, but he was well within shouting distance.
Standing straight, she forced Bobby to back off and stared him right in the eyes. “You’re a bully, Bobby. Nothing but a dumb piece of shit. I would no more work for losers like you and your father than I would sell myself on a street corner.”
Bobby’s eyes bulged, his face flushing scarlet.
“Now,” she continued, “shut the fuck up and stand there while I finish.” She didn’t disguise her sneer as she looked him over. “You’ll never get anything from me, Bobby Kramer. Not. A. Damn. Thing. And you sure as hell don’t have anything I’m ever going to want.”
Bobby’s complexion took on shades of purple and it was satisfying as hell. She should have told him off long before now, and every day since. The look on his face was priceless. She wished she could snap a picture to show Garrick.
She didn’t see Bobby’s hand come up until it grasped the front of her pullover, fisting in the soft fleece and the sports bra beneath.
She yelped when he yanked her close, his face almost touching hers. “I got something you want. I got it right here.”
The strength of his grip cut her sports bra into her skin. She gulped air into her lungs to scream and dug her fingernails into Bobby’s hand, but what little air she’d managed to gather left her in a whoosh when he shoved her away.
She crashed into her supplies, barely keeping herself and the cart upright. Bobby reached down and her eyes followed automatically, widening with horror when she realized his intent.
“This is for you, sweetheart,” he sneered as he shoved his shorts to his thighs and fisted his limp dick, stroking it slowly. She shuddered with revulsion, unable to look away from his hairy groin or his ham-sized hand choking his cock into a response.
Something in her snapped, her rage so huge it went cold.
“That’s for me?” she asked sweetly, cocking her head and pretending to stare her fill. She’d have to find a way to bleach her eyeballs later. “Well, then it turns out I do have something for you.”
With the confidence of long practice, she grabbed a roll of tape from the cart behind her, tore a long strip free, and lobbed the heavy roll at Bobby’s face.
He brought his hands up, the reflex to protect his face leaving him vulnerable.
She lunged, slamming the strip of duct tape across his semi-erect cock and pinning it to one of his big, hairy thighs, being sure to shive the adhesive against the thick thatch of groin hair while she was at it.
Bobby bellowed, dropping the roll of tape he’d managed to catch and grabbing at his junk. His fingers pressed the tape around his shaft, catching in the adhesive and yanking the sensitive hairs.
He screamed.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, bitch! Do you hear me!? FUCKING KILL YOU!” His words echoed off the cinderblock walls.
Footsteps rushed toward them. Mike shouted her name as he barreled into her office, and she could hear someone else called for Mark down the corridor.
With dawning horror, Savannah realized there’d be a circus in her office within a matter of seconds. An entire hockey team and countless staff would witness Bobby’s humiliation—and see the undeniable evidence of her complete loss of professionalism and control.
Hindsight was a bitch.
She’d done the unthinkable—she’d made a scene, and worse, she’d assaulted a player on her team. Regardless of how richly he’d deserved it, now there’d be questions. Now everyone would know she couldn’t handle herself with a shithead like Bobby.
And it wouldn’t take long. Not when the entire arena could already hear Bobby screaming that he was going to end her life with his bare hands.
Panic fluttered in her chest, her fight or flight instinct raging, but she’d used up all of her fight already. That only left one things to do.
She snatched her bag and coat off her desk and ran.
Garrick sat at the computer in his study, his eyes gritty with exhaustion from staring at reports, analysis, news pieces, and any other data he could find about well-run, profitable sports teams. He put down the white paper he was working through when he heard the crunch of driveway gravel in front of his house.
He checked the clock. 1:17 AM.
He’d only been home for a half hour, having dashed out of the arena after the game to meet up with Melissa DuPont, another childhood friend who worked for the Kramers.
Another unofficial conversation and the picture was bleaker than ever. Garrick was walking a careful line between collecting information and putting his friends, people he cared about, at risk. What had seemed a vague threat at first now felt like imminent danger. The Kramers—apparent captains of all underground industry in the area—had interests to protect.
The question was how great a threat they would perceive Garrick to be. He had no idea what he was going to do with what he’d learned, especially since he couldn’t tell anyone how he’d gotten the information and he had no proof.
He went to the window and saw the sweep of headlights across his barn. When the sound of the idling engine didn’t change, when there was no car door opening or closing, he went to investigate.
He didn’t get lost travelers or drunken drop-bys out here at his farmhouse, being a solid ten miles outside the Moncton city limits and in the middle of farm country.
He flipped on lights as he moved through the house, hesitating when he got to the front hall. For the first time in his life, a frisson of fear rushed through him when he thought about opening his door.
Another reason to hate the Kramers.
He pulled aside the sheer curtain over the front door window and considered rubbing his eyes, convinced he was imagining things.
Savannah.
Something is wrong.
He threw the door open, cursing himself for not listening to the voicemails Rhian and Alexei had left earlier. He’d assumed they were telling him where to find them if he wanted to celebrate their win. He should have known something was up after Rhian called a third time.
Savannah sat in her car and stared at the steering wheel, not even glancing up when he leaped down his front porch stairs and ran the length of his front walk.
She yelped when he wrenched her door open. and her unblinking gaze and pale face brought him up short. She was frightened. He knelt in her open door, ignoring the driveway gravel digging into his knees.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
She didn’t answer. He reached out to touch her face, alarmed by the tear stains reflecting the dim blue light of the dashboard dials. When she flinched away, he let his hand drop and rested it on her leg.
She looked back at her steering wheel. “I’m in big trouble.”
She was still wearing her game clothes. Had she come straight from the arena? She should have left hours ago. His need for answers nearly choked him but he stomped on it. He’d get there, but first he needed her to turn off the car and come inside.
“You’re not in trouble with me.”
“Is Melissa still here?”
He blinked, surprised. “She was never here.”
Confusion clouded her expression. “I drove around for a while.” She glanced at him. “I didn’t want to interrupt…”
Garrick’s alarm grew. “You’ve been driving around since the game?”
“I’m afraid to go home. There’s been this car. A big SUV, sometimes, at night.”
Fear churned in his gut. He forced himself not to shake answers from her. “You can always come here.”
Some day he’d even ask how she knew
his address.
“I heard you tell Rhian you were meeting Melissa. Am I interrupting?”
A piece of the puzzle fell into place.
“Melissa is an old friend who I met for a late supper so we could talk about the Kramers.”
The relief she failed to hide was a bright spot in a long and increasingly stressful evening.
He wanted to tell her there wasn’t another woman in his life. Hell, he hadn’t given any other woman more than a passing thought since he’d met her. Hadn’t even managed the passing thoughts since he’d been with Savannah. But now didn’t seem like the time.
“It wasn’t a date. I’m trying to find as much dirt as I can on the Kramers.”
Savannah cocked her head. “Why?”
He sighed. “Damned if I know. I guess I’m hoping I can prove they’re running a sports book and that Bobby is messing with the games. Maybe I can get the league to block the deal.” He shrugged. His half-baked plan sounded stupid out loud.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“Sure. I learned a lot from Melissa tonight. You want to come in for some coffee and I’ll tell you what I know?”
He let go a deep breath of relief when she shut off the engine and pulled the key from the ignition.
He helped her out of the car and kept hold of her hand as he towed her up the porch steps and to the front door. She looked around curiously. He smiled when she shifted her weight back and forth and made the porch plank creak.
“It was built in 1859,” he said.
She nodded and followed him through the front door. A rush of satisfaction surged through him when her eyes widened upon seeing the restored foyer and staircase. “It’s in wonderful shape.”
“Thanks.”
“You did it?”
“Sure. I had to have something to do on the off season aside from work Dad’s farm and babysit my sister’s kids.”
“It’s lovely. I like how you didn’t change things.”
He laughed. “I tried to stick to the original design, though sometimes I wonder why.” He made a show of having to hang her coat sideways and wrestle the tiny front hall closet’s door shut. “Come on back. I’ll make some coffee and you can be suitably appalled by how updated the kitchen is.”
His spine tingled in response to her husky laugh as she trailed behind him through the dining room and into the kitchen. She ran her hand over the green granite counter tops before reaching up to touch the glass-front cabinet.
Then she looked at him as if she’d never seen him before. He stood still under her regard. He hoped she’d been expecting a bachelor pad condo and found the antique farmhouse more to her liking.
Her green eyes glowed and the warmth of the house was returning the pink to her cheeks. His arms twitched with the need to hold her.
“Here, I’ll get that coffee.” He turned to the kettle.
A hand on his back stilled him. “No.”
He turned back to her. “You don’t want coffee? I have tea or hot cocoa, if you’d rather.”
She stepped closer and dragged the thick elastic from her hair, letting it cascade down over her shoulders. “No, thank you.”
His pulse sped up and his jeans got considerably tighter.
He gulped. “What do you want?”
“You.”
Chapter Fifteen
Garrick’s eyes darkened to chocolate. Savannah loved how honest he was with his reactions. It was exactly what he demanded from her. She understood why now.
He never hid anything, was never ashamed of the truth.
God, she wanted to rip his clothes off.
Before she could do just that, he was there, yanking her up against him and capturing her mouth.
Her tongue met his, her heart speeding up. She moaned when his large hand cupped her ass and pressed her belly against the hard ridge under his fly. She ground against him, desperate for his touch. His taste.
For the first time in hours, she forgot the feeling of Bobby’s hand on her, the sight of his flaccid cock. The heat of Garrick’s passion and her passion for Garrick burned the lingering filth of Bobby’s actions to ashes, and now, at last, she felt clean.
She wrapped her arms around Garrick’s neck and held on for dear life. Her fingers burrowed through his thick hair and she kissed him, furiously, trying to communicate her relief, her desire.
The world tilted and she tore her lips from his with an undignified squeak. He held her cradled against his chest and was charging through the dining room, mounting the stairs.
She briefly considered insisting he not carry her. His bad hip, his pulled groin—she was an athletic five feet ten inches, then decided, fuck it. Who was she kidding? She was enjoying the hell out of it.
He practically ran the length of the upstairs hallway. Through a door at the front of the house they entered a large master bedroom and sitting area. She briefly glimpsed a bathroom roughly the size of her apartment through another door before he tossed her onto the huge four-poster bed.
Garrick shucked his shirt and reached for the button on his jeans before she finished bouncing.
She laughed. They were definitely on the same page.
She couldn’t get out of her pullover fast enough. The sports bra followed, and her sneakers sailed through the air as she toed them off. She never wanted to wear the things Bobby had touched again. She might just burn them in the large fireplace she’d seen downstairs, if Garrick would lend her a shirt to get home.
She was only bare from the waist up when Garrick arrived beside the bed, stark naked.
God, he was gorgeous.
He clamped a hand around her ankle and dragged her to the edge of the mattress. Her heart knocked against her ribs and her body swelled with anticipation. She flat-out loved it when he took charge.
She thought he might rip her pants off—was hoping, even—but he ignored them in favor of nestling his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder. His lips caressed her skin when he spoke.
“You’re beautiful.”
She smiled. “We’re not going to go through that again, are we?”
He chuckled, before skimming his lips over her shoulder. “We will if you don’t believe me.” He cupped her breast and flicked his thumb across her nipple.
“I believe I can be completely uninhibited with you,” she gasped. “That I don’t have to hold anything back.”
He grumbled against her collar bone. “You better not.”
“Oh, god,” she moaned as he sucked the tender spots on her neck. “I can’t hold back. I don’t want to.”
His lips curved, even as they continued to torment her. She dropped her head back to give him as much access as he wanted, blissed out on the sensations coursing through her, spreading out from the point where his mouth met her skin.
Garrick worked his way down and over her chest, lingering on one nipple. He tortured it until she cried out, the sensitive bud hardened to the point of pain. She squirmed, ready for more. Ready for anything.
She arched her back, forcing her breast into the wet heat of his mouth, and drew a grumble of pleasure from Garrick, but he didn’t go any faster. She reached for his cock, but he danced his hips away. When he moved onto the other nipple and showered it with the same exquisite attention, she gave up, threaded her fingers through his hair, and just held on.
The tug of his lips drew a line from nipple to clit. His hand on her hip stilled her thrashing and she groaned. God, he was killing her.
He left her breasts with a tender kiss to each tip before embarking on a slow exploration of her ribs. Her navel. Her belly.
Each touch of his mouth warmed her, his departure leaving a cool bloom of pleasure when the air reached her damp skin. Every brush of his fingers sent licks of desire along her skin.
He slid a hand beneath her, and with a tug, peeled her yoga pants and panties off. She’d been ready to get rid of the damn things the moment she’d hit the bed, but he’d lulled her. Now she waited, content to let him lead at
whatever pace. Patience had already proven to have its own reward.
For the first time since his lips had brushed her neck, he left her. Cold air tickled her skin and she opened her eyes to find Garrick staring down at her.
He took his time with this, too, and she let him. A flash of shyness nipped at her as she lay exposed on the bed in the bright light of the bedside lamp, but she shoved it away. A woman would have to be a fool not to appreciate the look in his eyes as they traveled the length of her.
She felt beautiful.
He had convinced her after all.
His hands cupped her feet, then slid up, his palms skimming over her ankles and calves and up the outsides of her legs, touching every inch of her. For one glorious moment, he hesitated, bringing his face close and inhaling deeply as his fingers hovered on her hips. She thought he might stop to taste her. The shine on her thighs and curls made her need obvious. She groaned with resigned delight when he slipped by, his chin barely brushing her hip before he buried his nose in the dip of her waist.
He stroked her flanks, gentling her while his lips trailed over skin she’d had no idea could be so highly erogenous. Her ribs, the inside of her elbow, the side of her breast. He brushed his face against her in a thousand places, rolling her, urging her to lift her hands over her head and let him have his way.
Everything melted away. Every worry about what the fallout would be from her altercation with Bobby. Every concern she’d ever had about being intimate with a player on her team. Every insecure thought she’d ever had about her sexual desires, her sexual demands. None of it mattered. There was only here. Now.
She gave herself over to Garrick. Wholeheartedly.
Savannah wasn’t sure how long she hung suspended in the web of arousal Garrick spun. She felt flushed and swollen all over. Her thighs were slick, her nipples hard peaks stabbing the cold air. She let him move her however he wished, acquiescing to his gentle demands—a touch to her thigh, a tap on her hip.
His hot tongue traced a line downward from her navel and she moaned, long and low, the needy sound cut off by a desperate whimper when he pushed her legs apart, lifting her knees and spreading her open to him.
The Hat Trick Box Set Page 13
