“Hell yeah,” Dmitri agreed.
Logan didn’t say anything.
His silence had Dubinski narrowing his eyes. “You’re still going out with us, right?”
Logan shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Seriously?” Dubinski pointed across the shimmering bay to the distant Miami skyline. “Look over there. What do you see?”
Logan sighed. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that we’re in Miami! Hottie Central! Home of the muy caliente babes! This is one of your favorite playgrounds, mi amigo. We always get super turnt up in The Magic City! Have you forgotten? The second you walk into any club, the ladies be all over you! And they lose their fucking minds when you start speaking Spanish and dancing the bachata.” Dubinski jumped up and started wiggling his hips like a geriatric gigolo.
Logan winced and held up a hand. “Please stop. Your dancing is as cringey as your Spanish.”
The others laughed uproariously as Dubinski dropped back into his seat and grinned at Logan, his eyes bright and glassy.
“That’s why you need to come with us, bro,” he cajoled, his words slurring slightly. “You’ve got the moves that make the hotties drop their panties!”
Logan chuckled and rubbed his jaw, trying to dredge up some enthusiasm. But he was digging deep and couldn’t find a scrap of it. For the first time since he could remember, the thought of partying and hooking up with random women sounded about as appealing as eating a bowl of slugs.
“So what do you say, man?” Dubinski gave him a leering grin. “Which club do you wanna hit up first?”
“Should you even be going to the club?” Logan asked, deflecting his teammate’s question like a puck off the blocker.
Dubinski’s grin wavered. “What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you dating…uh…” Logan tried to recall the chick’s name but drew a blank.
“Jess,” Reid supplied.
Logan snapped his fingers. “Right. Jess. What’s up with her? You still seeing her or what?”
“Sure,” Dubinski said with an unconvincing, nonchalant shrug. “We just started going out, you know, so we’re just keeping things super casual. I mean, we both agreed not to rush anything. We just wanna take our time getting to know each other.”
Looks were exchanged around the table.
“While you’re getting better acquainted,” Reid said sardonically, “I would think you’d hit the pause button on meeting other women. But maybe that’s just me.”
“Yup. Just you.” Dubinski took a swig of his scotch.
Heads shook around the table.
“What’re you doing tonight?” Logan asked Hunter.
“I have a class assignment to finish,” Hunter answered. “So I’ll be hitting the books when we get back to the hotel.”
Logan nodded, his gaze shifting to Sergei. “What about you?”
Sergei smiled. “FaceTiming with Jenna and the kids.”
“Sweet.” Logan looked askance at Reid and Viggo. “What about you guys?”
Dubinski barked out a laugh. “Why are you asking the pussy-whipped brigade? You already know what they’re gonna be doing. As soon as we get back to the hotel, they’re gonna run up to their room and call Nadia and Scarlett so they can jerk off to the sound of their voices. Hours later they’ll still be cuddled up with their phones, one hand down their pants and dreamy smiles on their faces.”
Reid and Viggo laughed. “You’re such a fucking hater, Dubs.”
He sighed dramatically. “I’m not a hater. I’m in mourning.”
Hunter gave him an amused look. “And what, exactly, are you mourning?”
“Our ranks are dwindling.” Dubinski was an army brat, so he had an annoying habit of using military analogies. “You see, since our combat mission began, our revered general has retreated to the war room aka grad school—”
Hunter smirked.
“Then our fearless colonel fell on the battlefield—”
Reid snickered.
“Next we lost our deadly sniper to the enemy—”
Viggo rolled his eyes.
“And now we’re in danger of losing another fierce warrior to…hell, I don’t know what. It might have something to do with that distress signal he put out after our victory over those upstart Islanders. I still haven’t determined whether he sustained a head wound in battle, but the mysterious code words ‘Wassup, Meadow’ make me fear that he’s been infiltrated by the enemy as well.” Dubinski clapped a hand on Logan’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. “You and Dmitri are my last hope. My last secret weapons. Don’t you desert me, too.”
Logan gave an amused snort and rolled his eyes. “Stop being so melodramatic, Dubs.”
“Seriously,” Reid laughingly agreed. “You need to chill the fuck out.”
Dubinski flipped him the bird before returning his attention to Logan. “So what’s it gonna be, Don Juan? You hanging with me and the Russian tonight? Or are you playing it safe with the pussy-whipped brigade?”
As five more pairs of eyes swung to Logan, he shifted uncomfortably and leaned back in his seat, chewing on his thumbnail and bouncing his leg under the table.
“Well?” Dubinski pressed.
Logan shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t feel like going out, so I’ma chill with the fellas.”
Dubinski and Dmitri groaned and threw their hands up in disbelief.
Reid and Viggo grinned, eyeing him with intrigued expressions. Hunter and Sergei looked almost proud.
Logan took a gulp of his drink, trying to wash away the sudden knot tightening his throat. What the hell was happening to him? Like, seriously?
“Don’t look so depressed, Brassard,” Reid teased. “Viggo and I were gonna hit up our favorite sports bar and catch a game or something.”
“If you’re nice to us,” Viggo added with a smirk, “maybe we’ll grab a pool table and let you kick our asses.”
Logan brightened. “That could work.”
Laughter swept over the group.
“You guys are nauseating,” Dubinski said, his voice slurring even more. He’d had three beers on the golf course and was chugging his way through his third scotch. It was starting to catch up to him.
“You’re more than welcome to join us, Dubs.” There was the slightest hint of steel in Reid’s voice. “In fact, given that you’re dating my fiancée’s good friend, I strongly encourage you to forget about the damn club and—”
“Save your breath. I’m still going.” Dubinski knocked back the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass down on the table. “See, contrary to what you guys might think, I’m not a dumb blond. I have eyes. I know how beautiful Jess is, and I know she’s probably out of my league. I mean, she can have any guy she wants…well, almost any guy,” he amended wryly. “If Sandström had given her the time of day, she’d be the one getting married at a castle instead of Scarlett, and I’m sure she still thinks about that sometimes.” Dubinski frowned and hunched over his empty glass. “I think she’s pretty fucking awesome. We have lots of fun together, and I’m sure she appreciates my fat bank account. But I know I wasn’t her first choice. So…until I know for sure that she wants me for more than my money, I’m playing it cool and keeping my options open.”
At the end of his monologue, no one said a word.
Dubinski looked around the table, taking in everyone’s stunned expressions. “Shit,” he mumbled. “Did I just say that crap out loud?”
“You did,” Hunter drawled with wry humor. “As the saying goes, ‘A drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.’”
Dubinski grunted and stared broodingly into his empty glass.
Reid gave him a sympathetic grin. “Don’t fight it, Dubs.”
“Seriously, bro,” Viggo added. “Resistance is futile.”
Dubinski lifted his head to smirk at them. “Stop trying to recruit me into your pussy-whipped brigade.”
As the others chuckled and guffawed, Viggo smiled narrowly at Dubi
nski. “You know that Viking wedding ritual I mentioned?”
Dubinski blinked and nodded.
“The one I was talking about is the blood eagle ritual. Ever heard of it?”
Dubinski shook his head.
“Allow me to explain it to you,” Viggo drawled, leaning forward on the table. “You see, to consecrate our marriage and ensure a fruitful union, Scarlett and I have to make a sacrifice to the gods of fertility. My Viking ancestors would traditionally sacrifice a goat, a boar or a horse. But Scarlett is strictly against animal cruelty…so we’re going to make a human sacrifice instead.”
Dubinski stared at him. “A human sacrifice?”
“Ja,” Viggo confirmed with dark pleasure. “Which brings me to the blood eagle ritual. To start things off, the victim—ah, sacrifice—is held facedown as the shape of an eagle with outstretched wings is slowly carved into his back. After that, his ribs are hacked from his spine, one by one, with a very sharp ax. The skin and bones on both sides of his back are then pulled outward to create the appearance of eagle’s wings.”
Viggo paused, watching as Dubinski paled under his tan and the others unconsciously leaned forward, waiting for him to continue.
“Ideally, the sacrifice would still be alive at this point to experience the excruciating agony of having salt literally rubbed into his gaping wound.” Viggo’s Swedish accent thickened as he talked, and his gray eyes took on a maniacal gleam as if he were channeling the spirit of some sadistic ancestor. “After the salt treatment, the sacrifice’s exposed lungs are pulled out of his body and spread over his ‘wings,’ giving spectators the final image of fluttering wings as the sacrifice draws his last breath.”
“Holy shit,” Dubinski whispered. He looked like he was going to be sick—and not from too much alcohol.
Everyone else was staring at Viggo, riveted by the gruesome details he’d shared. Even Hunter looked intrigued, though he’d probably already heard about the ritual. Sandström could weave a tale like no other, and his Viking ancestry made his stories even more fascinating when he chose to share them.
Dubinski was just drunk enough to be easy prey. “Why the hell would you want to torture and murder someone at your wedding?” he asked in a quavery voice. “That’s a crime. And wouldn’t your guests be totally traumatized?”
Viggo gave him a twisted smile. “That’s the chance you take when you attend a Viking wedding. Still want that invite?”
Dubinski swallowed nervously and lifted his glass to his lips, frowning when he saw that it was empty. He glanced around the table before looking back at Viggo. “Let’s say you’re really doing this crazy blood eagle ritual—”
“We are. I promised my grandfather.” Viggo had one of the best poker faces Logan had ever seen. It was almost as good as his, and he’d been playing poker since he was four.
Dubinski grew even paler. “How…how will you decide who to sacrifice?”
“The sacrifice will be chosen from our wedding guests, and it has to be a man. As the groom, I’ll have the honor of performing the ritual during the reception.” Viggo lowered his voice confidingly. “My ancestor Gunvald apparently had a real knack for it, and they say his spirit lives in me.”
Dubinski swallowed as Viggo leaned toward him, dark mischief dancing in his eyes. “To answer your question specifically, I’m probably going to choose the person who irritates me the most. Someone I wouldn’t mind getting rid of once and for all.” He smiled narrowly. “Who do you think that might be?”
Dubinski stared at him with a look of incredulity and horror. “No way, Sandström. You’re just fucking with me again.”
“Am I?” Viggo’s smile turned chillingly sinister. “Do you really want to take that chance?”
Dubinski looked around at everyone, gulped hard and mumbled, “Never mind about that invite.”
The entire table exploded in laughter.
Chapter Seventeen
MEADOW
* * *
Logan was able to get Meadow a seat on the same flight as the girls. So less than a week after leaving home, she found herself headed right back to Las Vegas.
She’d never flown first class before. The seats were plush and roomy, and the flight attendants were extra attentive. She felt like a pampered princess as she and the girls sipped cocktails and chatted excitedly about the fun weekend ahead.
After a short and enjoyable flight, they arrived at McCarran International Airport. Everyone had carry-on bags, so they skipped baggage claim and went to pick up the rental car that Reid had reserved for Nadia.
The girls were delighted when she was handed the keys to a Mercedes-AMG, but Nadia thought the luxury vehicle was unnecessary. She wasn’t the kind of girl to exploit her status as the fiancée of a rich hockey star. She was pretty down to earth and practical. So when Bianca gushingly pointed out that renting the Benz SUV would cost Reid about seven hundred bucks a day, Nadia wrinkled her nose with displeasure.
Her friend Jess had a totally different mindset. Once they’d all piled into the luxury SUV and were on their way, she reasoned to Nadia, “We make so many sacrifices when dating a professional athlete. Why shouldn’t we enjoy the perks that come with the territory? Hell, girl, you’ve definitely earned it after dating Reid for six months. You’ve given up your privacy, you deal with thirsty bitches constantly throwing themselves at him, and you have to cope with his crazy travel schedule. Once you put your career on hold to start popping out his blue-eyed caramel babies, you’ll definitely deserve all the pampering you can get. So pull the stick out of your ass, flip your pretty hair and start spending that man’s money!”
As everyone cracked up laughing, Nadia stuck her tongue out at Jess in the rearview mirror.
Jess blew her a kiss and grinned unabashedly. She was super gorgeous with a light honey complexion, hazel eyes and loose dark curls that cascaded down her back.
“The hotel suite we’re staying in already includes airport limousine transportation,” Nadia pointed out. “So, technically, we didn’t even need a rental car. I just wanted the convenience of having our own transportation so we could come and go as we please. A standard SUV would have sufficed.”
“Speak for yourself. I like traveling in luxury.” Jess grinned. “Best believe I plan to make full use of that twenty-four-hour butler service we’re getting with the suite. And since we didn’t take advantage of the airport limo service, maybe we can get them to drive us to the game on Friday so we don’t have to worry about parking.”
Meadow scrunched up her nose. “Or we could just walk. The hotel is pretty close to the arena. It makes no sense to drive.”
The others exchanged considering glances.
“We’re walking,” Nadia decided.
Jess booed, cracking everyone up. She’d recently started dating Marek Dubinski, one of the team’s right wingers—which was the same position that Logan played. She made a point of explaining to Meadow that Logan was the starter so he played on the first line while Dubinski played on the second line and got less ice time. But he was really good, Jess insisted, and she was hoping he’d score a goal during Friday’s game.
“Why do you call him by his last name?” Meadow asked curiously.
Jess laughed. “Because he hates his first name. It’s Polish and I don’t think he’s as proud of his heritage as, say, Viggo is proud of being Swedish. So he makes everyone call him by his last name, which could be of any origin, I guess.” She grinned. “The fellas usually call him Dubs, which has a nice ring to it. It’s like the abbreviation for the letter W. Like, he be getting all the dubs, you know, all the wins. Get it?”
Meadow smiled. “Got it.”
“Marek means warlike in Polish,” Bianca read from her phone. “That’s pretty fierce. He should totally embrace his name.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to tell him that.” Jess paused. “Or maybe I’ll have Viggo make the suggestion. Dubinski seems to listen to him.”
Nadia and Scarlett shared a look in the front s
eat.
“Hey, look at that,” Bianca said from behind her phone. “Viggo is an old Scandinavian name that means war.”
“Oh! They’re practically identical!” Jess beamed and clapped her hands together, obviously pleased.
Scarlett sent her a little smile over her shoulder.
Jess smirked and tossed her hair back.
Some interesting dynamics going on here, Meadow observed. She had no clue what the source could be, but she hoped things wouldn’t get awkward or messy. For better or worse, she was stuck with these women for the next four and a half days. After the crazy stunt Logan had pulled—argh!—she’d seriously considered backing out of the trip. But she couldn’t bring herself to disappoint him, and now that she was here, she just wanted to relax and have a good time with no drama.
Twirling a curly lock of hair around her manicured finger, Jess grinned at Meadow. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four,” she answered.
“Oh, cool,” Scarlett said from the passenger seat. “We’re the same age.”
Jess pointed at herself. “I’m twenty-six, Nadia’s twenty-five and Bianca is…How old are you again?”
“Twenty-seven,” Bianca replied.
“That’s right. You’re two years older than Nelson.” Jess grinned. “Cougar!”
“Rawr,” Bianca growled with a lecherous gleam in her eyes.
Laughter rang through the SUV.
On the way to the hotel, they blasted Cardi B on the stereo while excitedly taking in the sights and sounds of Sin City. It amused Meadow to see her famous hometown through other people’s eyes. She wondered if Logan felt the same.
Bianca smiled at her. “What did your dad say when you told him you were coming back home?”
“I haven’t told him yet. He had to go out of town for work this week, so I’m planning to show up on his doorstep on Saturday and surprise him.”
“Aww,” the others cooed warmly. “He’s gonna be so happy!”
“I know.” Meadow smiled.
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