16. Hayden

The bladeson my feet slice through the icy surface of our practice rink as I work through a drill with the team. Coach is watching us with his arms crossed over his chest, whistle clamped between his teeth, like he"s waiting for someone to fuck up, but we"re all too focused to give him anything to bitch about.

We"re playing Vancouver tonight, and since this team sucked before I joined up, I"m planning to stay after the morning skate to work with a couple of the guys on ways we can get the upper hand. Hitman ways that aren"t exactly legal but will help us win.

When Coach blows the whistle to end the skate, Warren, Torin, King, Corbin, and our second line D-man, Saint, hang back with me. Roman watches us with a suspicious as fuck look on his face before I flip him off and he scowls, skating off the ice.

"We don"t have long, but tonight we're gonna need a little extra if we"re going to kick Orca ass," I say as I lean against my stick and watch them. They"re all good guys and they want to win. It"s why they"re here. The question is, how badly do they want it? And how many lines are they willing to cross to get that W? "I have some…" I try to think of the best descriptor that won't sound horrible echoing around the ice. "Techniques you can use that"ll give us an advantage over Vancouver. Over anyone, really."

Warren nods and leans forward, ready to listen. He"s a good guy and a great player, but he"s not exactly a leader. That"s what I"m here for. "Like what?"

I smirk at him. "They call me The Hitman for a reason. You"re about to find out why."

Saint looks skeptical, but Corbin, Kingston, and Torin seem on board, so I show them a couple of tricks I use on the ice to get away with my ruthless play. "The most important thing is to not get caught. When you check and go shoulder first or use your elbows, it has to look like you"re playing the puck or they"ll call a penalty. But if you hit low and dig your stick into their legs or skate, no one will see it. And it"ll fuck them up."

Corbin nods as he listens, his dark eyes focused on me. "And you do this all the time?" He looks like he"s ready to learn from the master and I"m more than happy to teach him everything I know.

I nod. "It"s not legal, but it works. Just make sure you don"t get caught. And remember, we"re playing for the win. The goal is to fuck up the other team enough that they flinch when they see us coming. That flinch is where the magic happens." By the time we"re done, they"re all grinning and ready to put this shit into practice tonight.

"Don't tell anyone about this," I warn as we skate off the ice and head toward the locker room. "It"s our secret weapon, but the results"ll speak for themselves."

They nod in agreement, and I know they get it. This is the kind of shit that could get us in trouble with the league if we"re not careful, but it"ll help us win games and that"s all that matters.

After a shower and an afternoon spent meeting with the Realtor to sign papers on my new house, I"m running late to the arena for pre-game warmups. Still, I take the time to grab a coffee on my way in, knowing I"m going to need the energy.

When I finally make it to the locker room, everyone"s already halfway dressed and ready to go out onto the ice. "Sorry," I say as I rush through the door and toss my phone and keys into my locker before pulling out my gear. "Got held up."

Coach grunts at me but says nothing else as he walks out of the locker room toward the tunnel. We have a few minutes before we have to be out there, so I strip off my suit, pulling on my jersey and pads, tying my skates before grabbing my stick and helmet and following the rest of the team. I barely have time to re-do the tape on my stick before we"re hitting the ice for stretches.

The early crowd cheers and holds up signs when we come out, and I grin, loving the energy that fills the arena as they get ready for the game. I might be the asshole of this league, but I still take a second to throw a couple of pucks over the glass for some kids. Gotta balance out the shitty karma I"m going to have coming my way after tonight"s game somehow.

After our impromptu meet up after practice this morning, the guys are pumped and ready to go, so I know shit"s about to go down on this ice tonight.

I go through my usual warmups, skating around and getting a feel for the ice, but my gaze keeps drifting toward the empty arena seats, wishing Cassidy was here. Wondering whether she"s watching from her bar. When the sideline reporter catches my eye, she waves me over toward our bench to ask me some standard pre-game bullshit for the TV broadcast of the game.

"Hayden, how are you feeling about tonight?" she asks as I come to a stop against the boards with my stick in hand. "You"ve had a hot streak lately. Hoping for another hat trick tonight?"

I shrug and give her a grin that makes her blush. I can"t help how I am and maybe if my little liar"s watching, she"ll get jealous. Fuck, seeing her rage out over someone else wanting me would be everything. I blink, trying to shake off the way my dick"s trying to inflate inside my cup at the thought of her marking me as hers. "These guys play hard and I"m just happy I"m able to contribute. We"ll see what happens tonight, but I wouldn"t say no to another hatty."

She laughs and turns back to the camera, wrapping up the segment before they cut to commercial. As I skate away, I notice Roman staring at me like he wants to murder me and I smirk at him while I scratch my nose with my middle finger.

By the time the puck drops for the game, I"m ready to go.

As soon as Gabe Maddox wins the face off and slings the puck at War, I take my place up near the blue line and wait. As he passes, I dig my stick into Vancouver"s defenseman"s legs, knocking him off balance and creating an opening for Warren to pass to me. I take it and skate down the ice toward their net, passing it back to War, who takes a shot that goes in.

The goal horn sounds and we"re up 1-0.

I grin at Warren as we head back to the bench for glove taps, but he"s already focused on the next play. We don"t get cocky or complacent in this league, especially not against a team like Vancouver. They"re hungry and they want this win just as much as we do.

The game continues, and we keep playing dirty. It"s working. We"re up 3-2 by the second period, but Vancouver"s getting desperate and I"m waiting for them to make a move.

And they do.

As we"re skating down the ice toward their net with me in the lead, their center slams into me, knocking me off my skates and sending me crashing into the boards. I hit hard and my head bounces off the glass, black spots flashing in front of my eyes before I shake it off and pick myself up off the ice.

I turn around and slam him back against the boards, using my body weight to pin him there while he glares at me. "You fucking cheater," he growls, and I grin at him.

"What"s that? You hit like a little bitch?" I taunt him as he shoves against me. With a laugh, I let him go, skating away like nothing happened. I'm almost back at the bench when he comes up behind me and grabs my jersey, pulling me back and throwing a punch that lands on my jaw.

The refs immediately jump in and pull us apart, but not before I land a solid hit to his nose. Blood sprays everywhere, staining the ice and his white away sweater with droplets of red. The fans are screaming and the refs are yelling and I can"t help but let loose a petty grin as we get pulled toward the penalty boxes.

It"s not the hat trick I wanted, but it"s still fucking satisfying. Four minutes well worth it.

The box is boring as hell, and my gaze drifts up to the empty seats again. I know Cassidy"s not here, but it doesn"t stop me from wishing she was. She"s so fucking hot when she rages out at me over my bullshit, and having her here would only make living my dream better.

I"m so fucking gone for her, it"s ridiculous. And no matter what, before this season"s over, I"ll drag her ass to this arena with my number on her back. Fuck, just thinking about it makes my dick want to chub up, and that"s not a good look when I"m sitting in a tiny box with cameras and an entire arena"s worth of people watching me.

The refs blow their whistles and the game starts back up. The countdown begins. Four minutes and I"ll be back on the ice to finish what I started.