The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(11)

Mica, in that cold, quiet voice warned, “If you come near her again, you won’t see me coming.”

“I won’t be back. I swear.”

Mica shoved him hard to the ground. The guy scrambled to his feet and, in a lurching run, fled into the dark.

Mica stood staring at me. “You okay?”

The calamity of what had just transpired hit me. Tattoo guy would tell Yazimoto, and Yazimoto would take it out on me. Life-altering fear made my voice shake. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Who’s Yazimoto?”

Tears clogged my voice. I was a dead woman walking. “This is so bad.”

“Charlie.”

My whole body trembled as I staggered past him towards the door. I looked back at him. “Leave this alone. Or we’re both dead.”

He moved faster than I did, grabbing my arm and holding me back. “What do they have over you?”

“None of your business.”

His expression was grim. “Does Krista know?”

“No! Promise me you won’t tell her.”

He took a deep breath through his nostrils. “How much money do you owe?”

I needed him to let this go. He could not get involved in my mess. “Also, none of your business.”

“You are obviously over your head on this.”

I needed to remind him what he had at stake. “And you’re not over your head with your own problems?”

He scowled at me. “Let me help.”

His unexpected offer to help made me want to sit down and cry. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had offered to help me. Unfortunately, this situation was way out of his league. “You can’t. Thank you, but you just can’t.”

And without saying another word, I slipped back into the bar.





Chapter 4





MICA





I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Yesterday afternoon, my coach had called to tell me they had handed me a temporary six-game suspension. They would review the duration of my suspension as facts came to light. Immediately after that phone call, Krista called to fill me in. She told me that if the police came upon evidence that further embroiled me in Andrusha’s investigation, they would trade me. But Ashford had stressed to her that if I could prove to him I was trying to turn my situation around, he’d be open to lifting the suspension provided no more damaging information came to light. As a suspended player, they banned me from all games and all practices. I couldn’t even go work out at the team gym with my trainer.

Anger and frustration flowed through me. If I got traded, would I even be picked up by another team? I didn’t want to leave Vancouver. My entire hockey career I had played for the Wolves, and I couldn’t imagine not being part of this team. The thought of being traded made me sick.

But marrying a complete stranger made me feel just as bad. Yesterday, as we sorted through various candidates, I felt a growing sense of doom. I didn’t want to invite a complete stranger to live in my home. I rarely brought friends back to my place, and my home was off-limits for all the women I dated. This didn’t mean I wasn’t generous with my dates. I loved spoiling women with expensive restaurants and gifts; I pampered them with five-star hotel weekend getaways, and when they invited me into their homes and lives, I always treated those situations with the utmost respect. But I wanted no one in my space. This was my sanctuary, a place that I retreated to when I needed to shut the world out, and only a few people were invited in. So, the very idea that someone would live here, in my space, for a year made me feel as violated as I had when the police tore my place up.

Sheer frustration made me roll out of bed to go for a long run, but even though I came back with shaking legs and burning lungs, I couldn’t shake the restless emotions that rolled through me. I stood, breathing hard in my kitchen, and looked around. I didn’t even recognize my home. I knew I needed to clean up and put my house back together, but it was such a mess, I didn’t even know where to start. So, when Krista called, ordering me to her office, I jumped at the chance to avoid dealing with it.





*



As I got off the elevator to Krista’s office, Charlie came to mind. I wasn’t lying when I told her she reminded me of Krista. Snark seemed to be her middle name, and whenever she bothered to look my way, her glances were often filled with disdain. I enjoyed needling her for the sole purpose of watching her get riled up, but besides those fractious moments, I had never really given her a second thought.

Her reaction last night, after I saved her ass, had been unexpected. Instead of melting down after being accosted, she had tried desperately to warn me off, even after I offered to help. Which told me one thing. The chick was deep into some serious shit. Why had she been giving that guy money? Who was Yazimoto?

She wasn’t sitting at her desk when I walked into the office, so I headed towards Krista’s corner office.

Krista sat with her stilettos up on the desk, her phone pressed to her ear. The second she saw me, she said into the phone, “I’ll call you later.”

Without waiting for a response, she hung up and tossed her phone on the desk. “How are you doing?”

I ignored her question and leaned back in my chair to look over my shoulder. Charlie’s desk was still empty. Had she even come in today? She had played it so tough last night, but if she owed someone money, she was in way over her head. What if something had happened to her last night because of my interference?