Find Me on the Ice: Hockey Romance (Nighthawks Book 2)

“Trey—”

He caught me by the throat and smacked my head against the wall.

“You let that man stare at you. Did you like it? Did you like him looking at you?” he snapped and squeezed tighter around my throat.

Excruciating pain crushed my windpipe.

I shook my head as much as I possibly could in his tight grasp. I hadn’t let that guy look. I’d tried to stare him down and make him look away.

My body felt lighter, and stars appeared in my vision as he loosened his grasp slightly. I gasped for air, choking on my own spit. He tightened again and got in my face.

“Do it one more time, Honeybee. I dare you.” Trey spit in my face before releasing me and storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

I dropped to the ground. The only support was the wall at my back. I grabbed my phone and called the only person who could help me.

She had suspected the truth of Trey’s true nature when I ran into her a time or two and had the same excuse for new injuries. She told me of her ex, who had shared many of Trey’s traits. I never fully admitted what Trey had or hadn’t done. But she offered her name and number anyway and told me I should call her if I ever needed to leave without a trace. I’d just hoped I never had to make that call.

“I need”—I gasped—“your help. If the offer still stands.” My voice was shaky.

“Well, my dear, you called at the perfect time. Meet me in an hour. I’ll handle everything else,” she told me.

“Wh-what is the plan?” I continued to huff and puff to catch my breath.

“It’s better if you don’t know the details. Just trust me and be at my building within the hour. Bring whatever you want to take with you. It will be the last time you are there.”

The phone clicked off, and after a moment, I hustled, gathering some clothes, but nothing Trey would notice missing. I also grabbed a couple of snacks and the wad of cash that I kept hidden in case I ever needed it. I threw everything into a bag that I doubted Trey even knew existed.

With my hood up, I made my way to Abbott Funeral Home, sticking to the shadows of the streets. When I arrived, Nicole Abbott, owner of Abbott Funeral Home, ushered me inside and into the garage.

“Here are the keys to a car no one knows exists. It’s older than shit, and it guzzles gas, but it will get you wherever you go. Here’s a thousand dollars, some clothes I had, and some food for the road. Get rid of the car when you get there. Sell it, burn it—I don’t care,” she said, handing me bags full of food and a wallet with cash.

Tears streamed down my face as I took the bags from her.

Maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should go back. What about my parents? What will they think?

Nicole studied my crying eyes before saying, “I have two options for you.”

“And what are they?” I whispered.

She opened the SUV, took the bags from me, and threw them into the car before turning to look at me with worried eyes. “You run and don’t say anything. Everyone will think you ran away, and no one will ever have a definitive answer.”

“And option two?” I whispered.

She held the driver’s door open and continued, “We fake your death.”

“What? H-how?”

“I just need your answer,” she demanded.

If I ran, he’d never stop looking for me. He would use my family to get to me. Either way, as a cop, he had resources that would make it easy for him.

But if I faked my death, that’d be it. I’d just be gone to anyone in my life. I’d force them to mourn and feel my death. Doing that to my parents? I didn’t know if I could be responsible for that pain.

But what about the pain Trey would inflict on them if I didn’t? He would think they knew something, that they had helped me get away. He could cover up their deaths, and everyone would pay as much attention to it as they did the abuse he’d inflicted on me.

The answer was easy really. There was only one option that would end Trey’s grasp on me.

“Fake my death,” I declared.

Nicole nodded and held her hand out. “Give me your jewelry, your shirt, and a chunk of your hair.”

I had a sweatshirt over a tank top. I quickly removed the hoodie and handed it to her along with my necklace, earrings, and rings. Sliding the wedding band and engagement ring off of my finger felt like shackles being removed. Like the collar he had around my neck was gone. I wrapped my finger around a chunk of my hair on the back of my neck and yanked hard. I yelped at the sharp sting and handed the hair over to Nicole.

“What are you going to do?” I asked her. “You won’t have my body.”

“I have everything I need. I don’t want you to know anything else. The less you know, the better. As far as anyone will know, you died tonight. Make a new name, a new identity. Find a place to start over. But you need to go.”

“Okay, okay.” I got in the driver’s seat and started the car.

I didn’t get to say good-bye to my parents. I racked my brain for the last thing we had spoken about, and when the memory came, my stomach twisted. They had told me how much they loved Trey and how they couldn’t wait for us to have kids.

They wouldn’t know the monster he was. I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t say anything to them ever again. The weight on my chest threatened to suffocate me.

Before I could close the door, Nicole said, “Hold on.” She ran away into another room and came back, holding a red wig and sunglasses. “Until you are far gone, wear these.”

She threw her arms around my shoulders in the car, squeezing me gently, and whispered, “Be careful.”

I nodded as tears ran down my cheeks. “I will. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Her eyes were watering when she pulled away. “I’m glad you called me. Don’t thank me. Just take care of yourself. And have a good and quiet life, Morgan Dove.”

She closed my door, and I slipped the wig and sunglasses on as she opened the garage door.

Pulling away, I was overcome with an abundance of feelings. Sadness for everything I was leaving behind. Peace for being rid of Trey. And hope for what was to come.

I needed a new name.

Glancing at the bags next to me, I saw red silk sticking out of the top. No, not silk. It was satin.

The name came to me, flashing in my mind. A name chosen because of the brave woman who had saved me.

Nikki Satinn.

Coldness creeps into my awareness as I begin to wake up. The warmth I was cuddling with is now gone.

“Shh, shh. Go back to sleep. I’m just going to go to the bathroom. Everything’s okay,” Cam whispers to me as I begin to sit up.

“O-okay,” I say, my voice choppy from the dryness in my mouth.

I need water.

Cam walks down the hallway toward the restroom, and I reach over and grab my water, taking desperate sips.

“Ahh,” I say, setting the bottle back down and grabbing my phone to check the time—11:33 a.m.

Cam is a bad influence on my sleep schedule.

Getting up, I fold our blankets, slip my shoes on, and grab two granola bars from my bag. I walk over to the table and take a seat to wait for Cam to get back.

But by the time I finish my granola bar, he’s still not back.

I shoot him a quick text.

Me: Did you get lost?

My heart starts to race as panic settles in. But then I hear his footsteps down the hallway and take a deep breath.

I text Chloe to give her an update.

Me: Good morning. I just woke up. How’d you sleep?

When I set my phone down, my ears prick up at something familiar. But I can’t quite place it. I freeze and listen.

All I hear is Cam walking down the hallway. Cool chills brush up my back. I don’t know why I would have this reaction.

Taking a deep breath, I realize the reason why my body is responding this way to Cam’s footsteps. Because they aren’t Cam’s at all.

“Hello, Honeybee,” Trey hums, turning the corner with a pistol in his hand.

If I wasn’t sitting at a table, I would have dropped to the ground at the sight of him after all this time.

My entire body quivers at the sound of his voice. I’ve practiced this a thousand times in my head. React. Don’t hesitate. Yet, as his beady eyes stare at me, I can’t move, and I can’t breathe. It’s like his hands are still wrapped around my throat.

As hard as I tried to prepare myself for a moment like this, I have failed. I didn’t hop into action and make the first strike. I didn’t protect anyone. I’m a coward.

“Did you miss me?” Trey asks as he takes another step toward me.

He looks different, thinner but more muscular. Stronger. His face has aged, lines streaking his forehead and the corners of his eyes.

But he’s still exactly who I remember him being. The way he carries himself and speaks, like his words are the most important ones ever to be heard.

I’ve let him belittle me too many times in my life, convince me that I am less than. But I am not the same woman he hit and abused. I am confident in who I am and in who I love.

I love Chloe for everything she has given me when I have never asked. She has cared for me in ways I can never repay. She is my best friend in the whole world. For her, I won’t cower.

I love Cam for showing me how I’m supposed to be loved. We have shown each other the darkest parts of ourselves, the pieces no one else gets to see. But instead of running from me, he embraced me and chose to love me. For Cam, I won’t cower.

I love my parents, who don’t even know the sacrifice they had to make for my safety and for their own. I love the childhood and life they gave me. They love me how every parent should love a child. For them, I won’t cower.

For myself, I won’t cower.

Despite the pain and wounds Trey had caused me, I started anew and healed myself. I found love in baking. I made friends with regular customers, proud of my work. I know that what Trey did to me was never okay, no matter how much I let him convince me of it back then.

I am Morgan Dove, and I will not cower.

“No,” I snap. “I did not miss you.”

Slowly, I stand up from the table and step behind my seat. I need to find a way to get to my bag and get my gun.

He laughs and swings the pistol in his hand like a toy. “Are you sure? You might want to be a little nicer to me if you know what’s good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me. You are not it,” I say with no inflection in my voice, no emotion.

“Where is Cam?” I ask.

He angrily chuckles. “Don’t worry. He’s a bit preoccupied.”

Anger radiates from me as I demand to know, “What did you do to him?”

He takes another step closer to me. “Did you fuck him, Honeybee? Did you let him touch you?”

Before I can answer, he charges toward me, rounding the table, and jabs the barrel of the gun under my chin.

He drags his nose up my neck, sniffing me. “You smell like a cheap whore. Is this his?”

Grabbing the front of Cam’s Nighthawks hoodie I’m wearing, he yanks me toward him and kicks my feet out until I’m on my knees in front of him with his gun pointed straight at me. He kneels down in front of me and brushes my hair to the side of my face with the cold barrel.

Ignoring his question, I ask mine again. “What did you do to him?”

He smiles proudly and pretends to shoot the gun, making a pew sound. “I made sure he can’t come between us anymore.”

I don’t know if I should believe him or think he’s bluffing. “I didn’t hear a shot.”

His smile widens when he hears the slight shake in my voice. “Who said I used a gun? I’m very skilled with a blade.”

My stomach twists as images of Cam bleeding out fill my sight. No, no, no. It’s not true. This is just another tactic he’s using to subdue you. Don’t believe it until you see it.

I focus on the gut feeling that I know he’s still alive.

I know Trey has the capability to kill Cam. But he also craves power. He wants Cam to see him take me back. I’ve played Trey’s games long enough to know his favorite moves.

Trey presses the gun into my stomach as his forehead touches mine. “How could you do that to me? Let me think that you were dead? Do you know the pain you caused me? The years of agony I can’t get back?” His voice deepens with rage. “After all I did for you? Even now, when I tracked you down, you thank me by wearing his clothes and reeking of his scent?!”

He pulls back and slaps me across the face before gripping my jaw tightly in his grasp. Shaking slightly, he leans down.

His hand cups my breast through the hoodie, and he squeezes. I wish I could physically jump out of my skin.

His lips hover over mine, and I fight it as he squeezes harder and goes to kiss me.

But I’m no match for his strength. So, I let him kiss me. The second his lips touch mine, I thrust my mouth forward and bite his lip as hard as I can, and the metallic taste of blood explodes in my mouth.

“You bitch!” Trey rears back and stands up, backhanding me with his gun.

Warmth pools down my cheek as he grabs a fist of my hair.

“We will talk about this when we get home. I’m done dealing with this tantrum of yours.”

He leans down once more, but instead of trying to kiss me, he stares at my hair. “You dyed it.”

Gulping, I nod and smile at him. “I like it like this.”

His fist pulls my hair back, tearing pieces from my scalp. “I know you did it just to piss me off. We’ll dye it right away. This doesn’t suit you.”

He pulls me by my hair, lifting me to my feet, and walks us over to my bag. With his grip locking me at arm’s length, he digs in my bag and finds my gun. He pops the clip out and fires the gun toward the ground in case one was in the chamber. He throws the clip across the room, and it lands between some shelves.

“I knew you would have something. You’re not stupid,” he says.

He continues to drag me through the library, and I decide to stop fighting. Not because I’m giving up, but because I’m saving my energy. When we get outside, I will suck up to him, play into his needs. And then I’ll make a run for it to Susan’s. If I can get to her, I can get her gun and end this once and for all.

The entire walk to the front, I check for Cam, for any sight of what happened to him. But I don’t see anything, and worst of all, I don’t hear anything.

He kicks the door open, and I see two tools sticking out of the lock on the door.

He picked it.

His pickup is parked out front, and memories crash into me as fear takes over. I will die before I get into that truck. I won’t let him take me.

“I’m sorry,” I cry out as I step into the wet snow, feeling it soak into my tennis shoes.

He yanks my head back, grimacing. “You’re sorry?”

Tears stream down my face. “Yes, I’m sorry that I ran. I’m sorry that I lied to you.”

Victory twinkles in his eyes. “Continue.”

“I love you. You’re the only one who protects me and keeps me safe. I have been lost without you.” My words are toxic in my mouth.

His grasp loosens and loosens more. He cups my cheek with one hand and pushes the gun against my other cheek, holding my head in place. “I have been waiting for you to say that. I know it’s not your fault that you were resisting me in there. That boy brainwashed you. He made you think you hated me.”

I nod, and he crashes his lips onto mine, kissing me. My stomach churns at the contact.

And I make my move. Pulling my knee back, I plunge it into his groin as hard as I possibly can. He screams and falls to the ground, cupping himself.

I turn and run without looking back. I take off through the snow.

Turning the corner of the library, I see Susan’s house across the frozen lake, and I make a decision before I even allow myself to question it. I’m going across the lake, not around it. I don’t have time.

Trey’s feet pound behind me, and I dig in harder, no longer having feeling in my toes and up to my ankles.

The ice is slick, but there’s enough fallen snow for me to maintain balance as I fly across the pond.

“Come here!” Trey screams behind me.

Without looking back, I continue to race to Susan’s house. I’m halfway across the ice. Almost there.

Trey tackles me, and we slide across the ice together. He wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes. I fight him, slapping and scratching his hands, arms, face, any part of him that I can reach.

“Why couldn’t you just be good?” Trey spits at me.

My vision flickers as my ears ring from a gut-wrenching sound. The ice cracks around us, and in a split second, we crash through the ice and are completely enveloped by bone-chilling water.

Our hands clash as we try to grab on to one another, desperate to get out of this dangerously cold water. We thrash, trying to hit each other anyplace we can as the surface seems to drift farther and farther out of reach.

Holding my breath, I force my eyes open in the dark abyss. Trey does the same, and I reach for his throat, but I move slower than anticipated under the water. He catches my hand and tightens his hold on the gun. He lifts it up, and I know what’s coming. An odd sense of serenity calms my body—or maybe it’s the hypothermia setting in.

Picturing the pieces of happiness in my life, I think of Chloe and her laugh, of my parents and the love they share, and of Cam, who I love so dearly. His perfectly messy brown hair and those stunning blue eyes stole my fucking heart. I’m so lucky to have been loved by him for the short time we had.

Had.

I don’t want it to be over. I don’t want everything to change to the past tense. I don’t want people to say, She was kind. She was …

I don’t want my life to end by his hand. I strike, and for once in my life, I don’t hesitate. As he lifts the gun higher, I reach for it and grab the top of the barrel with my right hand and his wrist with my left.

I pinch his wrist. His grip loosens, and I pull the pistol free.

My tears mix with the water as my air runs out. I turn the gun on Trey as my chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself, and as I meet Trey’s now-fearful stare, I fire the gun until it won’t fire anymore.

He tries to say something, but nothing leaves his parted lips. I hold his gaze, watching the animation fade from his eyes before he sinks, deeper and deeper below.

My lungs are burning. I look up and see a spot in the ice where it looks brighter than the surrounding area, and I swim toward it. My body is completely numb. I can’t even feel the cold anymore as I near the ice.

Breaking the surface of the water, I gasp for air and throw my arms onto the snowy ice.

How in the hell am I going to get out of here?

When I brace my weight on my arms, the ice breaks more, plunging me back into the cold.

Shit.

Looking around, I see Susan’s house and remember a story she once told me. How she got out of the broken ice when she was younger. Closing my eyes, I calm my mind and my breathing, trying not to panic. And I follow the same steps she did.

Placing my arms on the ice, I fill my lungs and lift my legs up until I’m almost horizontal with the ice. With all of my remaining energy, I kick with my legs in short and fast movements. Propelling myself further onto the ice, I kick harder until my knees are out of the water.

Taking a deep breath, I hold it and carefully roll away toward Susan’s until I’m a good ten feet away from the hole. Gently, I rise to my feet and take light steps, carefully making my way toward her house.

My hands and body are shaking so horribly. I didn’t even realize it until right now. My steps slow, and my legs quiver as I near the edge of the lake.

Almost there.

But as my foot takes my next step, my knee buckles, and I fall to the solid ice, my eyes fluttering shut. I’m exhausted. I just need to rest for a second before continuing. Then, I can get to her house, and she’ll get help.

But when my head touches down on the ice, everything goes black.