Page 136 of My Pucking Crush

“Stamford. A house on the bay.”

He tells me to get my ass out of there and rattles off a street nearby. “A car will pick you up in fifteen minutes.”

SEVENTY-THREE

Max

“Where in fuck’s sake have you been?” Coach Beck’s voice hollers from my phone’s speaker as I peel off bloodied and smelly clothes that aren’t even mine.

Sorry, Ash.

“Someone broke into my East Hampton house and kidnapped meandLuca.” It burns to say that name now, knowing he’s being welcomedhomeas Daniil. The murderer.

If that’s who he is, that’s not who I want.

“Jesus Christ,” Coach says. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, they didn’t hurt him. Just tied us up.” I lie, checking out my bruised ribs and cringe.

I can’t admit I’m hurt. Coach will pull me from the game.

“Who... Who kidnapped you?”

“Ivan Belova himself.”

“Are you kidding me? Can you prove it was him? Did you get a photo of him?”

“No, I didn’t get my phone back until we got out of there.”

“Where the hell is Luca?” Coach cries out.

“Gone.”

“What?”he hisses. “I’m texting Bronwin right now. What do you mean gone?”

“Turns out Belova is Luca’s brother-in-law. He may have wanted me benched with injuries severe enough for his team to win, but when he realized Luca was my bodyguard, he changed his mind and decided he wanted Luca more.”

“I can’t believe this. Areyouhurt?”

What a fucking question. I’m heartbroken and devastated, and I want nothing more than to crawl into this bed with painkillers and sleep for a week. Luca left me. Or did he save me? Is he really gone forever?

My robotic programming to win hockey games at all costs wars with the flesh and bone man Luca forced me to be. “No, they just drugged me.”

“Thank God, they tested you before the Albany game.”

It’s called random for a reason. Not that I think a drug to make you sleep would keep me out of a game. “Are you reporting any of this, Coach?” I hold my breath.

He sighs. “Report that my star player was kidnapped by the opposing team? With no physical or photographic evidence that it was Belova?”

My first-hand witness statement won’t mean much when Ivan Belova can program his whereabouts to be somewhere else.

To Coach, the show must go on. It would be an outrageous allegation. The league might investigate, but investigations take months. They won’t stop a game with twenty-four hours to go.

Professional hockey is a business first and foremost.

My team is up 3-1. Why would I lie about being kidnapped? We’re going to eliminate them. But as I breathe in, everything hurts.

“It sucks, but like you said, this isn’t ice dancing,” I throw his words back at him. “I need to get some sleep. I just wanted to check in.”

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