Page 88 of Forbidden Hockey
“What’s the rush? We still have the second half of the hockey season. So, deal?”
I scan the restaurant. There are enough people around that laying a hand on Elkington would be a bad idea. Even if I didn’thave a record, assaulting the mayor in broad daylight is a great way to end up in a cell. I can’t do anything for Dash in a cell.
Leaning across the bar top, I snag the lapel of his uppity jacket. “Okay, Elkington. I’ll play along till I get bored. Next time you show your face here, you’d better fucking tell me whatever you know.”
Letting him go with a shove, he stumbles backward. There’s a chance he’s fucking with me, or maybe this is how he makes friends. It’s fucked up, but it fits his MO.
“I’ll get the hostess to call you a ride,” I tell him.
He scoffs. “No need. My driver’s been waiting for me.”
What an asshole. He left his driver out there this whole time?
“Don’t look like that. She’s paid well.”
“Get out, Maxwell.”
“See you soon, friend.”
Mid-January
Dirk
Just so you know, I left my hat at yours. Maybe it fell behind the bed?
I’ve been staring at Dirk’s text for the past ten minutes. It’s been a couple weeks since Maxwell so kindly dropped his bomb. Somehow, he got my number, and he’s been sending me random texts, asking for fatherly wisdom. I don’t know why, he’sa goddamn ask-hole, disagreeing with every fucking thing I say and doing what he wants anyway. I haven’t pushed him to stop by yet, but I’m gonna.
Especially now that his nonsense has me fucking up royally. I’m supposed to keep Dirk safe, part of keeping him safe is making sure we don’t get caught.
Me
I’ll check for it, pretty boy.
Dirk
You alone?
That means he wants to have a video chat. Normally, I’m chomping at the bit for that kind of alone time with him, but fucking Elkington.
Fuck it, I’m not turning him down.
I open the app and set my phone in the small tripod I have on the counter just for this reason. His face pops up, and he’s noticeably missing a shirt. Without his hat, his hockey mullet is free, curling up at the nape of his neck. I get to see those pretty blue eyes of his.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I say instead of hello.
“Hey, baby.”
“Dash go out?” I ask.
He nods. “With Syd.”
They’re in Kelowna for a home game. I try to keep up with their schedule.
“And you were a good boy who stayed home?”
He smiles. “Yeah. I promised Maverick I’d grab a bite with him later, but we have an early practice, so it won’t be a late one.”
Maverick Elkington. My lips twist.
