High Risk Rookie (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 4)

I LAY on my couch in my new, temporary apartment and waited impatiently until it was eight o’clock in Vancouver. I called Krista at this time every night, but to date, she hadn’t picked up.

Yesterday I had been too frustrated to leave a message, but today I was ready to talk to her voice mail. When the beep sounded, I started to speak. “Hey. It’s Levi. Calling you. Again. I got our divorce papers in the mail today.” They were open on my lap. “Wondering if you wanted to talk.”

I stared down at her signature on the bottom of the last sheet. “I guess you’ve already made it clear what you want, hey? I still want to talk. Call me.”

I ended the call and then sat up on the couch and rubbed my hand over my mouth. I never could take a hint, but her actions told me, loud and clear, that she was done with me.

I remembered Mica’s words. Krista’s fighting to save her career. She can’t do that with you in the picture.

I tossed the papers onto the coffee table. Tomorrow I would find a witness, and I would sign. If getting out of her life meant she could thrive, I would do that for her.

I stood up and walked to the window, looking outside at the cold, snowy night. I hated it in Buffalo. This was the pattern of my entire life. The moment I got too comfortable somewhere was the moment I got moved somewhere else. I was usually pretty good at rolling with the punches, but I had made the mistake of trying to put roots down too deep in Vancouver, and now I ached for what I had left behind.

I need to stop calling her.

TWO WEEKS LATER, I was coming back from a run when my phone rang. It was Mica.

“Hey, Mica. How’s it going?”

“We miss you on the ice.”

“I miss you guys too. I also miss your wife’s cooking.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “How’s Buffalo?”

I was breathing hard as the cold air crackled against my lungs. “Cold as fuck.”

“Making any friends?”

“If you want to call it that, sure.”

“You’ve been fighting a lot.”

I had been fighting. Hockey was the only place where I could vent my frustrations, and the Buffalo coach didn’t seem to mind. “You keeping score?”

“People are starting to notice your mood.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “They can notice what they want.”

“I also wanted to talk to you about how Krista’s faring.”

That stopped me short. “What’s going on?”

“Her agency is a bust.”

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. “Since when?”

“Don’t you talk to her?”

I didn’t even try to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I try, but she doesn’t answer my calls.”

“If you wanted to talk to her, why did you sign the divorce papers?”

“How do you—”

“My wife tells me everything. You signed away your own leverage.”

“She’s the one who wants out of this marriage.”

“I think you’re too stupid for her,” he grumbled.

“You’re the one who told me she couldn’t save her career with me in the picture.”

“I didn’t say you should divorce her.”

I knew this relationship was slipping away from me. I also knew that I had made a tactical error. “I should have made her get my signature face-to-face.”

“Bingo.”

“How do I fix this?”

“You’re coming here to play next week. Figure it out.”

IT FELT weird to be in Vancouver without being part of the Wolves. I stared out the window of the bus and watched as the rainy city streamed by. Most of the Buffalo players left me alone. They already knew my value. They accepted my talents on ice and put up with my walls and my need to fight. In Vancouver, I had wanted to be part of the team. Here, I was going out of my way not to get too close to anyone.

They took us directly to the stadium, where we had a late-afternoon practice. Above me, I could see the silhouette of Mark Ashford standing in the window of his office. It made no sense, but I felt like the worst of traitors playing for the visiting team. Players dealt with being traded all the time, but I never imagined it would hurt this much.

After practice, I checked into my hotel room and then took a cab to Krista’s apartment. I followed someone into the building and knocked at her door. If she was home, she didn’t answer. I took another cab over to her office, but the building was locked. My stomach dropped when I noticed the name of her agency had been removed from the side of the building.

I wanted to camp in front of her apartment door, but I couldn’t miss curfew roll call, so I headed back to my hotel.

Mica: Welcome home.

Me: How’s it going?

Mica: Come over after the game tomorrow.

I stared at my phone, torn between my desire to catch up with Mica and my need to hunt for Krista. Although Charlie might be able to give me critical information…

Mica: She’s not here.

Me: Where is she?

Mica: We can talk about it tomorrow.

Mica would tell me where she was tomorrow because I would do whatever it took to get that information out of him.

Me: Thanks for the invite.

Mica: See you tomorrow on the ice. Bring your A-game.

STEPPING onto Vancouver ice as a visiting player, I fully expected the crowd to boo me, but they fell eerily silent when my name was announced in the starting lineup.

Buffalo was a scrappy team. They liked to get in players’ faces to make their presence known, and tonight was no exception. Vancouver responded in kind, and it was getting rough minutes into the game. The referees had all but given up on whistling every infraction, saving their power for only the worst offenses.

It was exactly the kind of game I had been hoping to play. For a full week, I had been anticipating seeing Krista, and my frustration over her absence made me edgy and mean.

I got even hotter when Vancouver scored on us twice in quick succession. It made me skate until my lungs burned and my heart pounded in my chest. We worked hard out there, eventually evening the score.

I didn’t see the fight start. I only became aware of a problem when my forward disappeared out of my peripheral and missed any chance of moving the puck up the ice. I looked over my shoulder and watched as Bruce, a tall forward from the Wolves, punched my forward in the face. But the ref hadn’t blown the whistle, so we were still in play. I skated up the boards, looking for someone to pass to.

I didn’t see Brody, but I felt him as he crushed me up against the boards a second before the whistle blew. I went down on my knees, but with an extreme effort, I was back on my skates in less than a heartbeat. He circled me, tossing off both his gloves. I stared at him as I stripped off my own.

This is exactly what I need.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Brody.”

His gaze burrowed into mine. “Hey, you’re the washout who couldn’t even marry your way onto the team.”

“Did Coach get you to help with some of his renovations?”

His eyes darkened. “I’m here and you’re not. That’s all that matters.”

“I’ll be back.”

He laughed. “No one wants you back. Not even your agent—or should I say wife?”

I moved towards him, shoving him hard. To maintain his balance, he grabbed my jersey, and I used that opportunity to plow my fist into his face.

“Why you’d do it?”

He swung back, connecting with my jaw. “Do what?”

“You unfairly destroyed her career. You must be so proud of yourself.” I grabbed him by his jersey, trying to get a better hold of him.

He clipped me so hard on the cheek I saw stars. “You did that all by yourself.”

I no longer cared about the rules of hockey. I flipped him off his skates so I could climb on top of him, but he climbed back onto his feet in a flash. “The video.”

He shoved his fist under my chin, forcing me to tilt my head back. “I had nothing to do with that.”

I angrily swatted his arm away and punched him just beneath his chest gear. He grunted.

“You told me to watch my back. You threatened me.”

He managed to shove me off my skates. I went down hard and fought as he climbed on top of me, pinning me to the ice.

He grunted. “You screwed me over with the text I sent to Dee, but I never saw that video until it hit the news.”

I swung up and connected with his nose. “I don’t believe you.”

Arms were pulling him off me.

He bared his teeth at me. “That video shit is your own doing. I would never stoop that low.”

They skated him away before I found my wind and climbed to my feet. It was complete chaos on the ice. Even the goalies were fighting. Everywhere I looked, the refs and the coaching teams were trying to break up fights. Around us, the deafening fans screamed like maniacs.

I skated over to my bench and stood watching. I no longer felt like fighting. It didn’t matter how many times I hit someone—it wouldn’t change things. I breathed hard as I looked around. I never should have left my life here, because now I wasn’t sure I would ever find my way back.

AFTER THE GAME, I left without telling any of my Buffalo teammates where I was going. I took a cab to Charlie and Mica’s place.

The door swung open, and Charlie enveloped me in her arms. “Oh, it’s so good to see you.”

I hugged her back, feeling emotional. “Same.”

Mica appeared around the corner. “Hey.”

We stood, looking at each other. Then he grinned and gave me the old handshake-shoulder-slap-man-hug. “Nice to see you, man.”

“You too.”

He ushered me into the kitchen and poured me a drink without asking. “Charlie made stroganoff.”

I spoke to her back. “You’re spoiling me.”

She was stirring something, but she gave me a smile over her shoulder. “You guys go enjoy a drink. I’ll call when the food is ready.”

Mica and I moved to sit in the living room. The massive fireplace crackled cheerfully.

“Quite the fight tonight,” he said.

“Buffalo met its match coming here.”

“You and Brody went at it pretty hard.”

“We had a lot to say.”

He took a sip of his beer. “Did you give him shit about releasing that video?”

“I tried, but he swore up and down that he didn’t release it.”

Mica’s eyes met mine. “Do you believe him?”

I thought about the honest surprise in his expression when he realized what I was implying. “He was adamant he didn’t do it. I’m not sure it was him.”

Mica leaned forward, his eyes on the fire. “The person who messed up your hotel room was feeling a lot of anger. Do you know anyone other than Brody who doesn’t like you, who maybe is trying to destroy you?”

I felt slightly sick to my stomach. “The only guy I know who’s that bad is Eduard.”

Mica frowned. “Krista’s ex?” He looked over at the kitchen. “Charlie. Come here.”

She put down a tea towel and walked over. “What’s wrong?”

“We thought it was Brody who broke into Levi’s hotel room and took the video. Now we think it might be Eduard. Are we way off base here?”

She looked at me with concern. “No. That guy is messed up.”

This conversation was starting to freak me out. I still didn’t know where Krista was. Part of me was starting to hope she was in some faraway city. “Where is she?”

Charlie bit her lip. “Her sister was supposed to be induced tomorrow, but she went into labor tonight.”

“Krista’s in Victoria? With her family?”

“Yes.”

Which meant Eduard would probably be there as well. I stood up. “I need to go check on her.”

Mica shook his head. “You know you don’t have time for that. When is your team flying out?”

“Don’t care.”

Charlie started to scroll through her phone. “The fastest way there is a flight.”

“Where can I book a flight?”

“Hold on.” She continued to scroll. “There’s a big storm coming in tonight. They are canceling flights. There is one that is still leaving. It starts boarding in forty-five minutes.” She glanced up at me. “Want me to book it for you?”

“Yes. You’re an angel.”

She started rapidly typing on her phone. “Mica, can you call him a cab?”

Mica stood up. “I can do one better. I’ll drive you to the airport.”