Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

Daniel Freeman’s brother stands in the middle of the room, my phone in his hand. He’s got a mask on, but it doesn’t hide the eyes. He has the same eyes as his brother.

He asked if I knew him.

He asked if I knew where he was.

He asked if I would tell him anything to save my life.

No, no, no.

Lie after lie, sitting sourly on my tongue, while he paced in front of me.

We’re not in the hockey house anymore. I walked in, registered the quiet, and the way Knox sped off, and then felt the prick of the needle in my neck and a presence behind me, catching me when my legs gave out.

He took me out the back, my body slung over his shoulder, through a yard. Then another. He cut up along the side of a house and onto another street, where his truck waited.

He put me in the passenger seat and bound my hands together in front of me. It was the weirdest thing, not being able to move but being aware of all of it. My eyes were half-lidded. Almost able to blink, but not quite enough to shut out the world.

We drove and drove. He typed in a code. And then another.

I eye the freezer in the corner of the room that holds his brother’s body. The man cave-ness to the room that is so fucking familiar. Because we were just here a day ago, or two?

Steele’s family home.

So close, and so fucking far away.

He hasn’t looked twice at it, and it makes me wonder if he really knows how close we are to his truths.

But the more I examine it, the more wrong it feels.

There’s something missing, and I can’t put my finger on it.

My phone makes a noise as the call connects, and the brother holds out the phone away from his face.

Video call.

“Greetings, Miles Whiteshaw,” he says.

His voice sets me on edge every time he opens his mouth. It’s slimy and wrong.

“Where is she?” Miles demands.

The brother twists the phone around, and I lift my head enough to catch sight of Miles’ face. He’s okay. There’s a bandage on his temple, and his eyes are wild, but he’s okay. I almost didn’t believe it when he assured me of such a thing, and I let out a slow breath.

Whatever happens to me from here on out will be okay if Miles is okay.

“You love her, don’t you, Miles?” He kneels beside my chair.

My hands and ankles are bound. I can’t do a fucking thing except squirm away from him and try not to fall over.

He grabs my hair, bringing my face in close to his masked one.

“Look how pretty she is, and so terrified.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Miles spits. His face is his own version of a mask, his cold eyes only softening a little when he sees me.

“Like you killed my brother?”

I suck in a breath.

“Ah, the love of your life is frightened for you.” He faces me, those brown eyes searing into mine. “All your pathetic lies were worthless. They assured me that I couldn’t trust you, even if I wanted to… even if I was inclined to do so. I have a weak spot for blondes.”

I shudder.

“You took my brother,” he continues, his words directed at Miles. “So I’m going to do you one better.”

He hauls me up and drags me toward the freezer. He’s got his other hand out, angled down with the camera to show our progression.

“You’ll never trust your brother again,” he says. “Because you’ll always blame him for killing your girlfriend.”

Belatedly, I realize what’s wrong with the freezer.

The padlock is gone.

He hauls the lid open and reveals an empty freezer. It’s not cold, though. At some point, he must’ve unplugged it. It doesn’t burn my fingers when I grip the edge, pushing back and trying to keep away from it.

“Aw, she’s afraid.” He’s suddenly in my face, running his covered nose up my temple and into my hair. He’s focused on the camera, though. “I hope you dream about her screams, Miles Whiteshaw.”

No, no, no.

The fear is there, so fucking real it chokes me. I can’t get any words out beyond a moaning noise, and I struggle against him. He’s got a hundred pounds on me and is at least a foot taller.

He pushes me into it, forcing me down. He grabs my ankles and twists my body, so I fall into the case freezer on my side.

“Scream,” he commands.

I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. It just bursts out of me, all the terror and fear unable to be contained. It echoes around me as he shows the camera what he did. He reveals the padlock in his hand, and then he closes the lid.

Silence.

I stare at the inside of the lid, although it’s pitch-black. I can’t even see my hands in front of my face. But I reach out and probe, pushing at the lid. Then shoving harder, until my muscles ache and my breathing is sharp pants in my ear.

Stay still, some small voice in my head whispers.

Calm breathing will help me survive.

There’s no air in here.

Well, there is—but there won’t be for long.

Miles must know I’m at Steele’s parents’ house. He must’ve recognized it. I touch the lid, the sides. There’s water in the bottom, just a little, that soaks through my jeans. I shiver and curl into a ball, letting my head touch the bottom of the case.

My heartbeat is erratic, and breathing is hard. My mind keeps playing tricks on me, thinking I’ve suddenly run out of options.

And then the whole case jostles, and I let out another squeal.

I’m moving.

The sliding, scraping noise fills the interior, although it’s muffled.

One side rises sharply, and I crash into one of the walls. Then the other side is lifted. My body sways with new movement, and the fear almost takes over again. I pound my fists against the side.

“Let me out!” I call. “You don’t want murder on your hands.”

Nothing.

Maybe he does want murder.

Maybe his brother meant everything to him.

I close my eyes—for all the good it does. It’s the same darkness as with my eyes wide open. I don’t know how long this goes on. I try counting, but my numbers are off. Too fast, too slow. There’s no drastic shift in speed. I think he’s got the freezer on wheels, or maybe loaded in his truck. Minutes melt together.

He could take me anywhere, and Miles would never find me.

Eventually, it stops. I bang on the sides again, calling out, and get no reply.

Suddenly, the case is tipped over. It tumbles, and I scream again. I hit all sides of it like it’s being launched down a slope, and it finally stops moving.

My body hurts. Worse than after the fight with Amanda, or when Miles locked me in the walk-in freezer.

An exasperated huff escapes me. Of course this is the second freezer I’ve been locked in, and damn well convinced I’m going to die in.

I lie there panting, waiting for the punch line. Or maybe for the case to open and the guy to tell me that this was all a pathetic joke. A prank set up by Miles to teach me some sort of lesson.

Wishful thinking, Willow.

There’s nothing left to do but wait.

And pray he finds me before my air runs out.