2. Zeke

2

ZEKE

six months later

M y phone buzzed as I was putting it in my locker. I glanced down and immediately wished I hadn’t. The message that showed on the screen made my stomach turn.

We’re watching you.

I’d known I couldn’t run away from my problems when I got traded to Boston, but I’d let myself hope the men I owed wouldn’t pursue me here.

That was stupid considering I owed as much as I did. Every time I went to the casino determined to win enough to pay off my debt, I fell into a deeper hole and promised myself I wouldn’t go back, but I always did. Sometimes I’d win and the feeling was as good as scoring a goal on the ice. The high had been too tempting, and now I was fucked.

I hadn’t really believed getting traded to Boston was the solution to my problem, had I? Maybe I’d wanted to believe it, but I’d known I couldn’t actually hide from the fucking loan sharks I’d resorted to borrowing money from. They weren’t the type to just forget about a debt. A few months ago, one of them had broken my fucking arm when I hadn’t made a payment. It had ruined the end of my season, taking me out of the playoffs.

I knew they meant business. They’d made it very clear they would wipe me across the pavement if I didn’t get a payment to them by…I glanced at the date on my phone. Last Friday.

It wasn’t easy to when I was one of the new guys on the Boston Badgers, one of the top ranked teams in the NHL.

I couldn’t believe the team had taken me. I’d had a great season until I’d started getting deeper in debt, and then after my injury I’d been afraid I might not get a contract at all. I ended up being part of a package deal. Vince, our goalie, had been traded, and I’d gone to Boston along with him. This was my last shot to make it in the League. I knew it. Once I got a few more paychecks, I’d be able to pay off the assholes from Vegas. Until then, I had to stall. Or I could try my luck at….

No! No more gambling .

I couldn’t let myself slide. If Coach Martin found out how much trouble I was in, my contract would be in jeopardy.

I’d figure something out, but right now, I had to show my teammates I wasn’t going to let them down.

I slammed my locker closed, and Vince turned to look at me.

“Trouble?” he asked.

I laughed, hoping it sounded normal but knowing it didn’t. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I hope not. You need your head in the game. We’ve got to pull everyone together for our season opener.”

Like I didn’t know that. We didn’t quite feel like a cohesive team yet, despite having trained during the summer and winning two preseason games.

I had to compartmentalize. When I was out on the ice, all I would think about was hockey and winning. I’d deal with the rest of my fucked-up life later. If I couldn’t figure out how to fit in with this team, my life was really going to turn to shit.

I skated onto the ice and tried to lose myself in the drills and our coaches’ commands. I was doing fine until it was my turn to practice shooting. I totally missed the first pass that came my way. On the second, I shot too quickly, and the puck went so far outside the goal, you’d think I was trying to pass it, not take a shot.

Some fans who had the privilege of watching us practice were cackling in the stands. Some of the assholes even booed me. I’m on your damn team.

“Jesus, Balogh.” Johnson, another wingman, was my closest friend on the team, but he wasn’t going to let me get away with a sorry performance. “Are you trying out for the toddler league, or are you playing with us?”

Fucking smart-ass.

“Balogh, this ain’t play time,” Coach Martin yelled. “Act like you’ve played hockey before.”

“Yes, sir.” I was blowing it. I needed to have a stellar season, not make them regret signing me.

When I went to get water during a break, Johnson skated up behind me. “What’s up with you today?”

“I’m rattled. I’m letting the pressure get to me.” That was true, but it wasn’t hockey that was the problem. He didn’t need to know that though.

“Coach is going to fucking kill you.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

He studied me for a moment. “You sure there’s not something else going on?”

I faked a smile. “Yeah. I’ll get over it.”

“All right. You better figure yourself out. Things are about to get serious when the regular season starts.”

As if preseason games weren’t taken seriously, but I knew what he meant. Once we were playing regular matches, the pressure was going to be so much worse. and I was already crumbling. I wasn’t going to let myself be a fucking failure like my grandparents predicted when I told them I wasn’t going to college. I was going to make my mom’s spirit proud.

I drained my water, then blew out a long breath, shook myself off, and cracked my neck. I was going to play picture perfect for the rest of our practice session.

When we left the ice to go cool down in the gym, Johnson slapped me on the back. “You did get it together. Great shot out there.”

We’d sparred, and I’d scored for my side. It didn’t make up for my earlier blunders, but at least I’d managed to show Coach Martin I hadn’t forgotten everything about the game.

I grabbed a sports drink and glanced up into the stands. There was a man in the third row who I’d caught watching me several times. Once we’d even made eye contact, and a shiver had run through me. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why. He was fucking gorgeous, but there was also something ominous about him.

I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help myself. Damn, I needed a better sense of self-preservation. Finally, it hit me. He was the man who’d tried to pick me up after a game in Vegas. The one I’d fantasized about for weeks.

What was he doing here? Surely, he wasn’t working with the men I owed.

They said they were watching you.

He looked right at me and tipped his chin up.

Johnson whistled. “Looks like you have an admirer.”

I turned to face my teammate, willing myself not to look at the stranger again. “What? No.”

Johnson glanced up into the stands. “He’s looking this way.”

“How do you know it’s me he’s interested in and not you?”

“Because he’s gesturing for me to get you to turn around.”

“Fuck.” I started walking away. If there was any chance he was here to shake me down for a payment, I couldn’t take the risk.

“He’s hot as fuck,” Johnson said as he followed me. “What’s wrong with you?”

“He looks dangerous.”

“He looks delicious.”

I couldn’t stop myself. I glanced back.

The man held up his hands in a heart shape, and my pulse skyrocketed. Fuck.

I smiled and waved, knowing it would look weirder if I didn’t. Then I practically ran to the locker room with Johnson on my heels, laughing loud enough to attract the attention of several teammates.

“Got an admirer, Balogh?”

Johnson slapped my back. “Hell yeah. This guy’s going to get it tonight. Better than I can say about the rest of you suckers.”

“I’m focused on the game,” Vince said. “Women are a distraction during the season.”

Johnson snorted. “That’s okay because we’re just after dick.”

Vince rolled his eyes and walked away. Other than a few cat calls and slaps on the back, no one else said anything.

“You should go back out and see if he’s still there,” Johnson said.

“No. What I should do is go home and rest up for tomorrow.” I wouldn’t mind a rough, mindless fuck tonight, but if I were going to indulge myself, the guy in the stands was the last man I’d go after. I might be an idiot, but I wasn’t enough of one to risk falling into bed with someone who might have been sent to beat money out of me.