4. Zeke

4

ZEKE

A s I left practice, I felt itchy all over, like someone was watching me. I scanned the parking lot, but I didn’t see anyone I recognized from Vegas, including the man who’d been watching me practice. Maybe someone was watching me to figure out if I was really one of the players, but fans didn’t usually give me the creepy feeling that was making me want to run to my car and lock myself inside.

Maybe I was just fucking paranoid. But I had a right to be, didn’t I? I’d already had my arm broken back in Vegas. Now I’d been threatened, plus some scary-looking man was watching me practice. No wonder I was unnerved.

If the man watching me wasn’t there to collect the debt I owed, what did he want?

Nothing I was going to give him.

Would you really turn down an offer from a man that hot?

Yes. Despite what Johnson thought, I didn’t have to fuck every man who was interested in me. I was going to focus on my game. I wasn’t going to fall into all the traps I had in Vegas. I was going to get good sleep, keep any hookups discreet and infrequent—or better yet just make do with my right hand—drink less, and avoid all gambling. I needed to walk the straight and narrow path until I’d proven myself to my new team and earned the money to get these fucking creeps off my back. I couldn’t afford any scandals, no matter how much I longed to have a man fuck me so hard I wouldn’t have the ability to worry about whether I was going to ruin my one chance at a career.

On my way home, I stopped at a food truck and picked up a burger and fries. When I walked into my apartment, I set my food down on the counter, dropped my practice bag onto the floor, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Alcohol could make me stupid real fast, but I wasn’t planning to leave the house, and it had been a hell of a day. A burger and a few beers were just what I needed.

I sat down in front of the TV, clicked on an app and scrolled to an episode of The Office I’d watched dozens of times. Once I’d polished off the food, the show became background noise while I mindlessly scrolled on my phone. I needed all the distractions I could get to keep my mind off the man who’d been watching me.

He was so fucking hot. I wasn’t surprised he’d thought I’d leave the bar with him the first time we’d met. And now… He seemed just as arrogant. Surely, he’d go away if I ignored him long enough though, right?

What was he doing here anyway? I’d never seen him again in Vegas. But it wasn’t like we’d discussed anything about our lives. I had no idea if he lived there or here or what. Why the hell had he chosen to fixate on me? Unless he really was here to get money out of me or make me wish I could pay.

If that was it, why would he watch me day after day? He knew where to find me. He could just follow me and catch me somewhere I wouldn’t be protected. I had to go to our practice facility and show up for games. That was no secret.

I unzipped my practice bag and pulled out the note I’d found in my locker. I ripped it to shreds, then took it and my food wrappers to the trash.

I couldn’t just wait around to see what step they took next. I needed to do something. I sent a quick message to friend from high school, someone who knew a hell of a lot about the seedier side of Boston.

My phone rang a few minutes later.

“What kind of trouble are you in now? I thought you sports stars had it made.”

If only. “Let’s just say I spent a little too much time at the tables in Vegas.”

He huffed. “I never figured you for much of a gambler. Thought you were smarter than that.”

“You and me both.”

“So, you need money off the record?”

“Right. Where do I go for that?”

“Are we talking a little or a lot?”

“A lot.”

“Then your best bet is the Marchesis, but you need to tread carefully. They don’t play around.”

My head spun. The Marchesis were a powerful organized crime family. Even being new to town, I’d already heard plenty of rumors about what happened to people who crossed them. “I don’t have any better options?”

“Nope. But can’t you earn back what you borrow with all that fancy skating?”

“Of course I can.” I hoped I sounded as confident as I wanted to be. “My payments are overdue, so I just need a little advance.”

“Or a big advance.”

“Right, but I’ve got money coming in.”

“Be careful. I’d hate to hear that you’d been found swimming with the fishes.”

“I’d hate to hear that too.”

He told me how to get in contact with the Marchesis through an insurance business that served as a front for their loan sharking. I ended the call and collapsed back against the couch. Just thinking about approaching a powerful mob family had sweat dripping down the back of my neck, and my heart was pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs. Maybe it would just give out, then I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

I didn’t really want that. I wanted to get myself out of the hole I was in and truly become a star.

When my phone buzzed, it startled me so badly it slipped from my hand and fell to the floor.

Get yourself together.

I looked down the screen and saw a text from Johnson, not a demand for money or a threat. Johnson wanted me to join him and several other teammates at their favorite bar.

A few minutes ago, I would have said no and enjoyed my quiet night at home, but now the last thing I wanted was to be alone with my thoughts.

I typed out a response. Be there in 30.

I changed from my sweats into jeans and a black team T-shirt, then headed to the bar. When I stepped inside, I glanced around for Johnson. He and my other teammates were easy to spot since most of us towered over everyone else.

I got a beer and pulled a chair up to their table. They were ragging each other about practice. None of us had been at our best, which helped me not stand out as badly as I would have.

I stayed quiet and just listened to them. I wasn’t sure of my place in their banter yet. After a few minutes, Johnson turned to me. “Are you ready for tomorrow? Coach is going to really push us to get us in shape for this next game.”

I sighed. He was right. We’d played like shit in our last game and after a less-than-stellar practice, he was going to be all over us. I could handle it though. I didn’t have a choice. “I’m as ready as I can be.”

I continued to listen to their chatter, occasionally looking up at the football game on the bar’s TVs. When the game went to a commercial break, I glanced around the room, curious who else was there. I’d started to recognize a few of the regulars, some of whom were rabid fans. When my gaze moved to the corner booth, my heart skipped a beat. My stalker was watching me as he lounged in the booth, drink in hand. He lifted it toward me in salute as a server approached our table.

“Zeke?” she asked.

“Your boy’s right here.” Johnson slapped me on the shoulder.

“The gentleman in the corner sent this for you.”

I glanced down at her tray and saw a glass of whiskey. Was it the same thing my stalker was drinking?

“Thank you,” I said as I lifted the glass and set it on the table. I was sure he wanted me to look at him. I had to fight to keep from turning, but I kept my gaze on the server.

“Aren’t you going to drink it?” Johnson asked once she’d walked away.

“I might as well.” It had come directly from the bar, so it was probably safe. No reason to let it go to waste.

I lifted the glass to my lips and took a sip. I was tempted to toss it all back, but I had no doubt it was something expensive that deserved to be savored. The liquid rolled over my tongue, smooth, rich, and fiery. When I swallowed, I felt like my whole body was glowing. Damn, that was good.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at the man then. He lifted his glass again and before I could stop myself, I raised mine as well. His smile sent shivers down my spine.

His gaze drew me in. I almost rose to walk over to him. I might as well be on a leash the way he took control of me. Fuck, that was not the kind of thought I needed to be having about this guy or anyone else. I was no one’s dog. I was in charge of my own life, and I was going to succeed—at giving up gambling, at playing for Boston, and at keeping myself away from men like him.

He did have good taste in whiskey, though. I took another sip before I put the glass back on the table.

I inclined my head to the back of the bar. “Restroom,” I said when Johnson raised his eyebrows.

He grinned, and I shook my head. “I’m going alone.”

The last thing I needed was to be caught in the bathroom with a man. Any man. That escapade would be all over social media and I’d be known as the hockey player with his dick out at a bar. I wanted to be known for my skills on the ice, not my slutty ways. I needed to look like a good boy.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my gaze from flicking toward the corner booth. The man wasn’t there anymore. How had he disappeared so fast?

I wanted to look around the bar to see if he’d moved to another table or gone to get a refill, but I didn’t let myself. It was good thing that he was gone. I didn’t want him there. I didn’t need his attention.

I pushed open the restroom door and went in to take care of business. When I stepped back out into the hallway, I glanced around, wondering if my stalker had returned. The hallway was empty. I headed back out into the bar, unable to stop myself from continuing to look around for him.

He really seemed to have vanished. Why did my stomach feel all funny at the thought? It couldn’t be because I was disappointed. That would be ridiculous. I was here to relax and hang out with my friends. That was all.

But the whole time I sat with my teammates, drinking, smiling, and pretending to listen to everyone’s stories, I was wondering when I’d see the man next. Would he ever actually approach me? Not that I wanted him to or anything.

I said good night to everyone a few minutes later and headed home so I could get enough sleep to be alert for our workout the next day. I realized my stalker being at the bar had kept my mind off the money I owed and the people who could be watching me right now. I shivered, despite how warm it was outside, and hurried back to my apartment building. The whole way, I expected to hear steps behind me or see someone lurking around the corner of a building. Fortunately, no one jumped out at me, not the men I owed and not my stalker.

I was getting ready for bed when my phone buzzed, I glanced down at the screen and saw a text from an unknown number.

My heart pounded as I replayed the moment I’d acknowledged my stalker in the bar. Somehow, I knew the message was from him.

You had fun tonight.

How did you get this number?

How did you know who it was?

Who else would it be?

So you aren’t having fun with anyone else?

I’m not having fun with you.

Yes, you are. You’re already anticipating our next meeting.

Leave me alone.

Not an option.

Why did that send a thrill through me? This man was dangerous, even if I hadn’t thought so initially, I knew it now. He was following me, and he’d managed to get my number. I needed to keep my distance. I should never have responded to his first text, but even knowing that, I didn’t stop.

Why?

Because I want you, and I get what I want.

No.

Yes.

My throat tightened, and I forced myself to swallow. Why did I have such a problem resisting temptation? I tossed my phone on the bed and retreated to the bathroom. He wasn’t getting any more responses from me, not on the phone, not at the arena, not anywhere else.