BREAKAWAY (The Dartmouth Cobras) (45 page)

"Oh god yes! This is ten times better than I ever dreamed! So different then watching it on TV! I—" Akira blushed as Chicklet chuckled and Sloan smiled at her. She covered her cheeks with her hands. "Way too
fangirly
."

"No. It's the playoffs." Jami sighed. "I wish I had half your enthusiasm. I almost did for a bit, but . . . ." She wasn't sure how to explain it. When things had been good between her, Sebastian, and Luke, watching games had turned into a way to be close to them. But she couldn't help but resent the fact that the game was now the only way Sebastian could be close to Luke. She knew it had to bother him, but all he said was Luke needed time and space.

Not a problem. I'll give him plenty of that. A lifetime's worth.

"Right. We can talk about that later too." Akira stepped back and sat on one of the large leather chairs, leaning forward as Jami took the one beside her. "Are you ready for the show on Tuesday? Amy looked really good with her team out there."

"We'll look better." Jami put her hand over Akira's. "We've got the better team leader."

"I can't believe they picked me after Claire twisted her ankle."

"I can! Who else would they have chosen? You're the best skater, the best dancer—"

"That's not true. And besides, I get so nervous counting out the moves. The trainer had to tell me to speak up so often at practice and I know all the girls were wondering why the hell they picked me."

Truthfully, Jami had wondered too. There was no question about Akira making the final cut, but she was obviously more comfortable following instructions than giving them.

"You might want to get used to leading a group, Akira." Ford kept his eyes on the ice as he spoke. "You did mention in your application that you plan to teach figure skating."

"Yeah, but . . . ." Akira's eyes went wide. She whispered to Jami. "You don't think he—"

"No way. He's got nothing to do with the Ice Girls." Jami bit the tip of her tongue. She hated lying to Akira, but she knew what it was like to have someone pulling string hanging over her head. She was just grateful Ford hadn't decided to make her a team leader. And hoped him helping out Akira was just a gesture of friendship. Her life was complicated enough without dealing with another man.

What about Scott?

She shoved the thought aside. With Scott, it would be nothing but hot sex at a kinky party. More for Sebastian than her. He needed the distraction.

"Oh, before I forget, I picked up your mail." Akira dug into her purse and pulled out three envelopes. Her lips pressed together and for a moment it seemed like she was debating her next words. Then she nodded towards the top envelope. "If you're having money trouble, I can help you out."

Jami wrinkled her nose and shook her head as she tore open the envelope from the credit bureau. "I saved up a lot of money when I was living with my grandmother. She made sure I worked and I never spent much. I just . . . ." She stared at the amount owed, then crumpled the letter in her fist. "I put it off. I'll take care of it on Monday."

"Would it help if I reminded you?"

"Sure." Jami took a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. She caught Ford steady gaze from the corner of her eye. When they'd been together, he'd taken care of stuff like her cell phone bill. And she'd let him because she couldn't be bothered. But now she was determined to make it on her own. And paying her bills was part of that.

She'd figure out how to manage her budget even though the thought of working out all those jumbled numbers made her physically ill.

The next letter was a bill. She set it aside to deal with later. The last was blank. No address. She frowned as she pulled out the folded paper and almost dropped it as she scanned over the words.

"Jami?" Akira touched the back of her hand.

Jami jumped, then laughed as she stood and ripped the letter in half. "It's junk. Just someone trying to sell me something."

Over the trash at the back of the room, Jami continued ripping the letter until nothing was left but tiny pieces. Her empty hands shook hard. The hairs on the back of her necks rose and she glanced over her shoulder. It felt like someone was watching her. It always did lately.

She went to the refreshment table for a bottle of water. Drained it in long gulps. And tried to regain her composure, but for the longest time, all she could do was stare at the wall. And see the words sprawled across both sides of the page.

'Stay away from him. No more whore. I'll be watching you. I'll be watching you. I'll be . . . .'

Over and over. Like the song in her car. The CD player had been glued shut. It was fixed now, but sometimes, at night, she could still hear it.

Whoever had broken into her car had left this letter. It didn't seem like a prank anymore. They were trying to send her a message.

She knew she should tell someone. Sebastian. Or maybe even her father. But then she'd had to admit she was scared and the freak doing this to her would win. Because that's what they wanted. To scare her.

Digging her nails into her palms, she spun around and lifted her brow at Ford's intent look. Then she joined Akira in front of the glass as the second period started and immersed herself into the game.

Only once did she let the stupid letter and the other weird crap slip back into her head, and then it was just so she could dismiss the loser who thought he—or she—could get to her with such lame shit.

It's Amy. It has to be. 'Leave him'? How much more obvious can you get?

The slight tremble of her hands stopped as logic crept into her brain. She almost felt sorry for Luke until she thought of how much he'd hurt Sebastian.

You can have him, you crazy bitch.

Her stomach twisted. She clenched her jaw.

But only because I don't want him anymore. I'm not afraid of you.

But she was a little afraid that she might be wrong.

* * * *

Luke shifted his weight from leg to leg, lining his stick up with Nelson's for the center ice faceoff. He'd used the break to get his head back on straight. Seeing Seb go down had shaken him, and he'd reacted without thinking, but Seb was fine. No one had brought up any weird vibes he and Seb might have let off. Anything beyond putting the Cobras on the scoreboard could be dealt with later.

The ref dropped the puck. Nelson let Luke scoop it up, then crashed into him, tangling their sticks together. Luke struggled to knock the puck loose, over to Pearce. But Nelson stopped it with his skate, trapping them in a stalemate.

"He watches you out here, you know." Nelson smirked as he spoke, his helmet pressed against Luke's. "It's
kinda
sweet, how protective he is. He stop me from kicking your ass so it's in good shape for him?"

Pulse faltering, Luke clenched his fists in his gloves.
Cool it. Don’t give him what he wants, Carter.

"You might
wanna
be careful, Nelson." Luke bared his teeth as he shoved his shoulder into Nelson's chest. "Ref hears any gay comments and he'll throw you out of the game."

"Hey, I've got no problem with fags, Carter." Nelson freed his stick and glided backwards, gesturing Luke forward. "But I've heard you and your boyfriend are having problems. You sure you're good to play?"

Rolling his eyes, Luke followed Nelson across the neutral zone. "I've heard you're getting a divorce. But I've got too much class to chirp about it. Just try and keep up."

He swiped the puck off Nelson's stick and shot forward, eyes on the goalie as he weaved around the
Sabres’
defense, never slowing his pace. Pearce and Demyan followed him over the blue line. The goalie poke checked and his stick struck Luke in the gut. Luke absorbed the impact and twisted to the side. He grinned as the goalie stick skidded across the ice. Took a shot. And collided with the post as the goalie blocked with his glove and clipped Luke's shin with a knee.

Three Sabres pinned Luke, throwing punches so fast all he could do was cover his head and wait for his team to step up. One man was wrenched away. Luke glanced over to see Seb raining down punches. Demyan threw his weight into a man, knocking him off Luke. Mason ploughed into a third and Pearce beckoned to another. Fights broke out across the ice, but the Sabres goalie and one defenseman held onto Luke, using his body to knock the net loose. The metal stuck his thigh like a baseball bat swung at full force.

“Son of a bitch!” Luke tried to twist free, but the defenseman held on to his jersey, shaking him like a rag doll. He took a swing, but his twisted sleeve cut it short. His face heated up as the men retraining him laughed.

The crowd screamed as Bower crossed the ice to call out the
Sabres'
goalie. A fist to the temple dropped Luke to his knees. The ref pulled the man away and Luke nodded to let the official know he was okay. He hefted up to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. Grabbed a man skirting by him to protect his goalie. And held him, not paying much attention to the violently twisting body in his arms as Bower latched on to the
Sabre
goalie's jersey and drew his fist back, waiting for an opening.

Bower was a head taller than the
Sabres'
goalie, had a longer reach. He grinned as he shook the man, spinning him as he moved. The
Sabres'
goalie swung his fist and lost his balance. Bower held him down, shouting something Luke couldn't hear as he checked a punch.

Most of the fighters had been dragged to the penalty box. The linemen and the refs hovered around Bower and the other goalie, looking relieved when they released each other without landing a punch.

After releasing his man, Bower glanced over at Luke, concern carving deep lines on his face. Luke licked his bloody bottom lip and touched his cheek, sticky and warm where his stitches had come out. He probably looked like shit, but he felt good.

He grinned at Bower. "I'm a pro—" His eyes widened as the
Sabres'
goalie took a swing. "Look out!"

The punch cracked Landon as he spun around. A line of blood spilled down his face from a cut along his cheekbone. Bower nailed the goalie between the eyes.

Fucking KO.
Luke fist pumped and followed Bower to the bench as the refs worked out the penalties for both teams. The
Sabres'
goalie had been tossed. There were so many men in both boxes, the lineman had a hard time closing the doors. It would be four on four for awhile.

"Bower, that was fucking awesome!
Pow
!" Luke did a nice, slow replay of the punch, then dropped against the board, laughing so hard his gut ached. "Did you see him drop? Fuck, he's
gonna
be seeing
tweety
birds dancing around his head all night!"

"It was pretty sweet." Bower took a bottle from the trainer and sprayed water into his mouth and over his face. He leaned over to let another trainer dab at the cut on his cheek. "I planned to let the guy go, but he's one dirty bastard. Should have figured that by the way he went after you."

"Thanks for having my back, man. I mean, I could've handled it—" Luke rubbed his knuckles on his chest. "But I don't like showing off."

Bower laughed. "You so full of shit. The way you covered your head and rolled into a little ball, I'm surprised you didn't grow a shell."

"Hey, I don't turtle! I was going for a sneak attack!"

"
Suuure
.
"

As Luke slid onto the bench, tipping his head back so the trainer could patch him up, Demyan plunked down beside him and gave him a toothy smile. "The rest of us don't get a thank you?"

All the adrenalin, all the excitement, drained away like someone had pulled a plug in the center of Luke's chest. He gritted his teeth as the trainer swabbed a cut with alcohol. He pictured Demyan, kissing Jami, and clenched his fists against the bench. "You're getting my girl, pal. What else you want from me? You want a fucking rim job, you know where to go."

"Why you being a dick about this, Carter? If you wanted Jami, why were you all over that cunt at dinner?"

"Boys, let's keep our heads in the game," Tim said, sounding fed up.

Luke ignored him and turned to Demyan, rolling his eyes as the trainer tightened his grip on his chin. "What do you want, Demyan, my fucking blessing? Fine. You can have her tonight, but after that back the fuck off."

Skate blades cutting into the floor halted steps away. Seb cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing as Luke straightened. "She is not yours to give."

"Yeah? We'll see about that." Luke jutted his chin towards the hall leading to the locker room. "You get thrown out?"

"Yes." Seb pulled off his gloves, then swiped his thumb over an oozing nick on his lip. "You are welcome to the party tonight, Luke. As I've told you, you have a say in what happens."

"How fucking generous of you." Luke pulled away from the trainer and spat a mouthful of blood on the floor between his skates. "The way I see it, she needs to get you both out of her system. I'll wait."

Seb pressed his eyes shut and seemed to mutter some kind of prayer. He continued down the hall without another word.

Demyan stared at Luke like he'd just caught him shaving his balls with a rusty blade. He opened and closed his mouth twice, then shook his head. "You're a moron."

 
"Says the guy who fucks anything that moves."

"No." Demyan sat back and held an icepack to his jaw as play resumed. "Says the guy who's never had it half as good as you. All I'm getting is a taste, and I've got the brains to appreciate it. Too bad you don't."

* * * *

Dean cursed under his breath and turned his back on the game, pacing to the bar at the other side of the box. The last thing they needed was goalie getting in a fight. If they lost Landon out there . . . he stiffened as fingers curved around his forearm, then sighed and pulled Silver into a firm embrace. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Silver sniffled and rubbed her tiny, red nose. "Being pregnant really sucks, you know? I get all emotional over nothing."