Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Still, I do a quick scan of the crowd, finding the goons easily. They’re smooshed into two seats beside each other, just below the cheerleaders’ stage. And while they’re watching the game, they’re spending an inordinate amount of time turning around, looking for Penny up onstage.
“The fuck was that?” Dom shouts over his shoulder as he flies by, his eyes watching the action as Jacofovich fights to get a clear angle on the Torches’ goal.
“Later,” I snap back.
Jack Off shoots and scores, putting us one up. While the crowd cheers and Jack Off does a tight victory lap around the net, the crowd laughs at something I can’t quite make out. I glance up to the jumbotron and see that they’re replaying me jumping out of the penalty box, throwing Penny over my shoulder, and running down the tunnel with her. Thankfully, it only shows her face for a split second, and when I quick cut my eyes at the goons, they seem to have missed it.
But Dominic didn’t miss anything. He may have missed it live, focused on defending the Torches’ power play, but he sees the replay, and is putting pieces together in real time.
“I can explain,” I rush to tell him, holding my hands out.
But he’s a freight train that won’t be stopped. “You son of a bitch!” he snarls. Before anyone can react, he’s on me. My best friend—hell, my only real friend—is beating the shit out of me.
His gloves are gone, his bare fists pummeling my body. With a sharp smack, my helmet’s gone and he’s landing punches on my face. Knowing I deserve it, I take every single one. I don’t block them, I don’t duck, I simply let him destroy me, leaning back against the boards so I don’t go down to take a knee or a blade to the face.
Bam! I feel my nose crack and blood run down my lip.
Bam! My jaw takes a shot, and red-tinged spit flies onto the ice.
Bam! I lurch forward as he uppercuts my gut.
Whistles are blaring loudly, fans are screaming, and I can feel hands on us, other Hawks clearing the bench to try to pull us apart.
Finally, they manage to separate us, but I think, to everyone’s surprise, it’s Dominic they’re trying to control. The refs confer for a long time as the trainer holds a towel to my face. Sure, we were fighting, but fighting your own teammate? How do they deal with that? Coach is arguing that it’s an internal thing, that at most a refusing-to-start-play bench penalty is all that’s required, but the refs shake their head, and I can hear them. “Lee, Mahoney, game misconduct. Both are ejected.”
“But—”
“Be glad I don’t make it a match penalty, Coach!” the ref says, and Coach shuts up. He’s right, that would incur an automatic suspension for both me and Dom. We probably don’t deserve a match penalty, especially since, as Coach said, it was between teammates, but I’m not going to argue with it because this is one fucked-up situation no matter what.
Dominic and I are escorted to the edge of the ice by two refs and half the Hawks between us as human shields, with marching orders to keep going to the locker room. And though Dom’s the one that went ballistic, Coach is glaring at me. He knows I’m the loose cannon, and if steady-as-a-surgeon Dom gave me a beatdown, I deserved it. That talk with him is shaping up to be a fucking doozy.
I push my way into the locker room, already jerking my sweater over my head. Dom’s at my back, which I hate because I can feel him glaring at me, still deciding if he’s gonna take another go at me. But now that I’m out of the game, my only mission is Penny. I need to get her out of here and stashed somewhere safe.
I’m pulling off gear as quickly as I can, not caring about getting it in my bag. Hell, I’m barely tossing it toward my locker. Jersey, flung. Pads, dropped. Skates, ripped off, and fuck me, they’re probably half ruined from stomping on the fucking cement. Pants and socks, shoved down as one.
“How could you?” Dominic demands, his voice echoing sharply through the empty room. “I fucking trusted you.”
“I know,” I answer, not glancing his way or pausing my speed strip down. Finally, I’m naked as the day I was born, digging for sweats in my locker.
“Put your dick away so I can beat the shit out of you some more,” Dominic barks at me.
I yank my pants on, free balling it to hurry a little more, and Dominic steps up to me again. He’s still geared up and stands several inches taller than me in his skates. His pads will protect him, too, except I won’t be throwing any punches his way. If he needs to hit me again, I’ll let him. As long as he’s quick about it.