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Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

T he first thing I notice when we get home is the increased security Gray has arranged. He tried to convince me to bring Montana to his place. That we'd be better off staying together. I couldn't do that, though. He has a little girl to consider and whatever danger is chasing Montana, well, I don't want it touching Gray's daughter. I need to be able to focus on my wife. I can't have distractions.

I called the team and asked for a timeout, so to speak. And let's just say that neither Coach nor Mr. Monroe was on board with that request. They have, however, agreed to let me bring Montana everywhere I go. It was either that, or I'd have to call my lawyer and find a way to pull out of my contract. I don't want to, but I'm not leaving her alone. Ever again if I can help it.

"Thanks for everything," I tell Gray, after I've tucked Montana into our bed, telling her I was going to get her a cup of hot chocolate and see our guests out.

"No need to thank me," he says.

"You'll call, yeah? If you guys find anything?" I ask. He and Vinny have been trying to track Andrew all week. We know it was him at the cemetery. The plates on the car he used were fakes, but the guys managed to track the car down to a town two hours north of Vancouver. Liliana also called in a favor with her father, who is the Don of one of the five families of New York.

We have two crime families looking for this fucker, and he's still in the wind. I'm finding it hard to believe that he's intelligent enough to keep hiding. He'll fuck up eventually, and when he does, we'll be ready to pounce. Until then, Montana is not leaving this house without a fucking convoy of protection around her.

"You'll be the first to know," Gray assures me.

I walk him out to the front door and then head into the kitchen. Where I turn the kettle on and pile a shit-ton of hot chocolate mix into a mug. Looking out the back window, I see three of the Monroe soldiers posted in the yard.

What would I do right now if I didn't have the connections I do? Would I run? Hire personal security?

I never thought I'd have to live under these conditions. I'm not Gray. I knew he's always had to take these insane precautions, surrounding himself with his father's men—even if you didn't see them, they were always there. He's not a made man. Not last I checked anyway. He very well could be now with what he did to the assholes who threatened his wife and daughter. Let's just say… he got a lot of practice with his stick skills. Either way, having the last name Monroe comes with the risks. And now, I guess so does the name Jameson.

I pull my phone out and find the number for Montana's father. I should be calling to tell him that I married his daughter. That's not why I'm reaching out, though. I need to get Montana those boxes. I don't think she'll find whatever she's looking for, but I told her I'd get them so that's exactly what I plan to do. Pressing dial on his number, I wait for him to answer. I'm ready to hang up when the call finally connects.

"Luke?"

"Yeah, it's me. How are you, sir?" I ask him.

"I've seen better days. What can I do for you, Luke?"

"Sean's boxes. The ones I dropped off from our dorm. Do you still have them by any chance?"

"They're in the garage. I was hoping Montana would come by to go through them one day. But she… Well, what do you want them for?"

It's on the tip of my tongue to mention that Montana is here, with me. That she's my wife. I can't take that away from her, though. If she wants her father to know she got married, she will tell him. In her own time.

"I'm missing a trophy. I thought I might have packed it with Sean's stuff accidentally. You mind if I have a courier collect the boxes so I can go through them? I'll return everything when I'm done looking, of course."

"Ah, yeah, and you said you'll send them back though, right? Montana will want them one day." He sounds so hopeful. He hasn't given up on her yet.

"Yeah, I think she will too. I promise to send everything back."

"Okay. Is that all?" he asks.

"One more thing… what do you know about their mother? Sean mentioned something about finding his mother before he… well, before… Did you know?"

"Sean found his mother? Did he say where?" Mr. Baker sounds surprised and then a little concerned.

"No."

"I don't know where my wife ran off to, and it really doesn't make any difference now, does it? Sean's dead and Montana… she's better off not knowing anything about her mother."

Does he know the conditions Montana was living in? How could a father be okay with his daughter dating some asshole who beat on her? I can't imagine ever walking away and leaving someone I loved with someone like that. No matter how old they were. I'd drag my daughter out of that hellhole, right after I killed the bastard who laid his hands on her .

"Okay, thanks for your time, sir." I cut the call and pocket my phone. I'll organize a courier to collect the boxes tomorrow.

Mr. Baker's reaction to the mention of his ex-wife is surprising. It could also just be the fact he hasn't heard anyone ask about her in so long. I remember my mom was beside herself after Mrs. Baker left. Mom lost her best friend. She looked everywhere, tried to find her to talk some sense into her. She never did though. Wherever that woman went, the notes she sent telling us to stop looking made it clear she didn't want to be found.

By the time I rush back upstairs, Montana is asleep. I place the cup of hot chocolate on the bedside table and head for the shower. Leaving the door open just a crack. I want to be able to hear her if she wakes up. I thought maybe it was just the hospital setting that was affecting her sleep, but even after being shot, Montana hasn't had a nightmare since the night we were married. I'm hoping it's a positive sign, a step towards moving forward in her recovery.

After showering, I sit on the bed next to Montana, who is still sound asleep, and open my laptop. I plug in my headphones and load up this week's replay reels. I haven't been there, with my team, but I have to return to the ice tomorrow.

News of Montana's shooting was leaked to the press by someone in the hospital, which is why we're home now. I discharged her with the intention of having a doctor do house calls. But Liliana insisted on bringing in her family doctor and wouldn't take no for an answer. So, now, not only is my wife being protected by my friend's mob connections; she's also going to be treated by one of their doctors.

I never would have thought this would be my life. Up until I was drafted, I lived a very normal suburban existence. My parents had blue-collar jobs. I never wanted for anything, but we were far from wealthy. I know my parents sacrificed a lot and missed out on certain niceties in order for me to play hockey. It's not the cheapest sport to put your kid in. It's the reason I paid their mortgage off with my first official NHL paycheck.

Speaking of money, Montana needs her own bank accounts. I pause the video, open my emails, and fire off a message to my manager, requesting that he add Montana to all my accounts as well as open one solely in her name. I don't want her to think she ever has to be dependent on someone else again. Even if she wanted to leave me, I'd fucking let her take it all. I would never hold finances over her head. I never want to control her. To me, she is the most beautiful when she's living for herself, when she's happy and seems fulfilled.

I need to talk to her about what she wants to do… after she's recovered and we've found and eliminated Andrew. I'm not an idiot. I know she can't follow me around forever, no matter how much I'd love her to do just that.

She stirs next to me and I close my laptop. "Did I fall asleep?" she asks.

"You did," I tell her. "You don't have to wake up, babe."

"What are you doing?"

"Watching replays."

"Sounds… fun?" she says, though it comes out more like a question than an observation.

"It's my job, one I need to keep up with," I remind her. "I spoke with your dad by the way."

Her body freezes. "You did?"

"Mhmm, I'm getting a courier to collect Sean's boxes tomorrow."

"Did you tell him? About me? About us?"

"No. I didn't tell him that you're here, or that you're my wife. I honestly thought he might have brought it up himself. Seeing as it's been all over the news. But he didn't seem to know."

"He won't watch sports news. He hasn't since Sean… He won't even watch hockey anymore," she says.

"Well, whenever you're ready to tell him, I'll be there with you and we'll do it in person, but I'll fly him here. We are not going back home."

"I'm fine with never going back."

"If you could have any car in the world, what would you pick?" I ask, changing the subject to something lighter.

"You're not buying me a car, Luke. I don't need one. I don't even go anywhere," Montana says.

"I am buying you a car. You can either have a say in the type by telling me your dream car, or you can just be surprised. Either way, you're getting one. One day, you will want to go somewhere, Tanna. And when that day comes, I want you to have the means, the freedom to do so."

"I don't have a dream car," she says, then seems to consider her options for a moment. "I guess it's better if you just surprise me. But nothing flashy or over the top."

"Nothing flashy, got it." I smile, already knowing exactly what I'm getting her.

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