Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

UNKNOWN

Meet me where you killed him.

If anyone accompanies you, she dies.

Greyson drops me off around the corner from Willow’s house. I walk the rest of the way, my hands empty. I have the knife that killed his brother in my pocket and Knox’s phone in my other.

Besides those two things, I’ve got nothing.

No bargaining chip, nothing to offer. No platitudes.

I’m going to die, or she is, or he will.

I ball my fists.

The door to Willow’s house is open. I step into the foyer, glancing at the door on the first floor. The landlord’s apartment door is shut tight. I continue up the stairs, a sinking feeling in my chest.

He wouldn’t have lugged the case freezer up here.

So either she’s not in it, or…

They’re not here.

Except for the light on in the apartment, I would think I’m right. The light spills out into the hallway. I step inside the apartment and push the door shut behind me. Nothing moves. Not a whisper of sound reaches my ears.

My brother’s phone chimes in my hand.

UNKNOWN

You’re getting warmer.

Fuck this guy.

I do a sweep through the rest of the apartment. It’s still destroyed, and my shoes pick up bits of soil as I go. I leave tracks as I check her bedroom and bathroom. Both empty.

Basement?

I pick up a knife from the counter and adjust my grip on it, the blade extending from the bottom of my hand and facing out. I make my way back downstairs silently and go around the stairwell, to the closed door that leads down.

I take the steps slowly, the light from Knox’s phone illuminating the stairwell. It goes down five steps to a landing, then makes a right turn and descends farther.

When I get to the bottom, the lights flicker on over my head. They buzz as they come to life. I spin around and stop in my tracks when I find the masked brother. He’s sitting on the case freezer, a gun in his hand. He’s got it resting on his thigh, pointed at my feet.

“Did you lure me here to kill me?” I ask.

My gaze keeps going to the case.

Willow is in there.

Can she hear me? Does she know I’m here?

The man chuckles. “I haven’t decided whether this ends with your death or just hers. Toss the knife, Miles.”

I glare at him, my fingers tightening on the handle.

“Don’t make me shoot you so soon.”

Fuck it. I toss the kitchen knife away. It clatters to the concrete floor, and I kick it backward. Away from both of us.

He pats the lid that he’s sitting on. “Willow Reed. What a peculiar name for an ordinary girl.”

I grit my teeth. “She’s not ordinary.”

“No? Neither was my brother. He competed in the two thousand and four Olympics. He had a family—”

“He tried to rape her,” I growl. “So clearly he didn’t think she was so ordinary either.”

“Interesting.” He tilts his head, staring at me through the holes in the mask. “So you’re saying it was in defense?”

“Yes.”

“Defense of a girl you weren’t with at the time. Of a girl who you bodily carried out of that club.”

“Yes.” My heart is hammering. “What do I have to do for you to let her out?”

He shifts. The gun’s muzzle shifts in my direction, and he raises it when I take a single step forward. “Stay where you are, Miles Whiteshaw.”

I raise my hands. “Okay, okay.”

“Your brother.” He leans forward. “Knox. Will you forgive him for delivering Willow to me? No, no, think before you answer. Mull it over. If the girl dies, it’s his fault, isn’t it? He put her into his car and drove her exactly where I said. He told her to go inside the house. He told her to come to me.”

My mouth opens and closes.

And I do think about it.

I think about him and only see a selfish bastard who put his love of me over my love of her.

“I don’t know,” I finally say. “Maybe I’d eventually be able to look him in the face again.”

He nods slowly. “A broken relationship. A wound that splits your family in two.”

“Yes.”

“And the love of your life, gone. Would you visit her grave? Would you go to her parents and her sister and tell them how it happened? How, when you finally get the padlock smashed and off, you were too late? Her skin will be mottled and blue from lack of oxygen. She won’t be pretty.” He raises the gun higher, his finger moving to the trigger. “Ah, ah. Careful.”

I step back. I truthfully hadn’t even noticed my jolt forward.

But I am envisioning everything he’s saying. He’s painting a bleak future for me.

“Should I tell you about the awful scream my mother let out when I told her that her baby was dead?” He sighs. It’s ragged, scarred. “Or should I let you wait to experience a mother’s cry of grief on your own?”

“Please don’t hurt her. Kill me if you must. Okay? Just shoot me in the fucking face and get it over with.”

He laughs and rises. “On your knees.”

A chill goes through me—and with it, my emotions. I drop to the floor. The impact rattles my bones, but I keep my chin up, and my eyes on him. He’s got everything, hasn’t he? Willow, his brother, me.

“She has to live.” I never thought I’d plead or beg anyone for anything—but for her life? Of course. I’d give everything. “Shoot me and open the freezer, let her out—”

“You’re bargaining? You’re on the floor, with nothing left to give.” He strides toward me, pushing the muzzle of the gun into my forehead. “You stupid boy. I’ve followed you for weeks. I know the perverted little games you play. I know that you thrive on chaos. You like to temper storms—but this is one you cannot quell.”

“You can’t kill me and leave her in there,” I growl. “What do you think my brother will do when he discovers me dead and Willow still locked in there?”

“Beg.” He shifts back a step, his weight transferring.

“Please just let me say goodbye.” I rise on my knees. My hand is so close to my pocket, to the knife that killed his brother, that my hand almost twitches. But somehow, it stays steady. “Please. She deserves a goodbye. Wouldn’t you have wanted—”

“Shut up,” he hisses. He takes a few steps back and jerks the gun toward the case—it’s clear permission to move. And from his pocket, he withdraws a key. He throws it on the floor in front of the case freezer.

I lunge for the key and pick it up. I unlock it and yank the padlock off, stuffing it into my pocket and palming the folded knife in one movement. And then I’m shoving the lid open, and light and air rushes into it.

For a moment, I think I’ve been tricked.

But then I lean over farther and find Willow curled at the bottom of the case. She’s bleeding from a cut on her temple, and her wrists and ankles are duct taped. Her eyes are closed. She’s in the fetal position, for fuck’s sake, looking half-dead. I reach inside and quickly slip the knife into her hand.

Then I feel her throat. For the pulse that I need to be there. It takes an agonizing few seconds to feel it. But then it’s there, bumping against the pads of my fingers, and relief whooshes through me. I cup her jaw, which is still warm, and move her head.

“Wake up, wild girl,” I whisper, shaking her shoulder. “You’re okay. Wake up.”

The edge of the freezer digs into my stomach. I keep reaching for her, but I don’t try to haul her up and out. I just want her—no, I need her—to open her eyes.

When they do, when she comes back to consciousness, they’re the prettiest, most dazed jewels I’ve ever seen.

“Am I dead?” she whispers.

“No, baby.” My voice catches. “I’m so sorry. I love you. Please remember that.”

I squeeze her hand, folding her fingers harder around the knife.

The masked man looms over us. He kicks out, his heel connecting with my ribs and sending me crashing sideways to the floor. I sprawl, then crawl backward. I glare at him, my heart skipping.

“Are you going to shoot me in the face?” I ask.

He scoffs. “And make you unrecognizable? Maybe I should.”

“What did you do with your brother?”

He continues to follow me. “He’s in a safe place. After you’re dead, I’m going to frame your girl, here. It happened in her apartment, didn’t it? By the faint smell of bleach, you tried to be thorough with your cleaning. Except the odds are in my favor. All it would take is a speck of blood… and the body.”

I grit my teeth.

“Cheer up,” he adds. “At least she’s not dying. She’ll live a long, miserable life in prison… well, I guess unless she gets the death penalty.”

“Fuck off,” I snap.

His eyes harden. He pulls off the mask and stares down at me. His face is a lot like his brother’s. Not handsome. Not particularly masculine. He’s got a weak jawline that slopes into his neck and a hooked, crooked nose. His brow bone is the most prominent thing on his face, and thick eyebrows.

He looks like an asshole.

“On your knees.” He widens his stance and bringing the gun up. “I’m going to enjoy watching your girl scream as she watches you die.”

I grimace.

He presses the gun to my forehead again, looming over me. His finger twitches on the trigger, and my whole body goes tight.

Bracing to die.

At least I got to tell Willow I love her—and the knife will give her a fighting chance of escaping this madman. Maybe she’s already cutting herself free and getting ready to run.

I keep my gaze locked on his face.

My murderer.

I taste it in my mouth, roll the words around.

They feel wrong. Like accepting this fate is something only an idiot would do. But what can I say? He’s threatening the only girl I care about. The only one I’d give up everything for.

And he’s asking—no, demanding—that I give up my life to save her.

Done.

Easy.

“Are you sorry for killing my brother?” he asks. “Your final words, Whiteshaw. Better make it count.”

His thumb pulls back the safety. I don’t know shit about guns, but clearly everything up until now wasn’t a real threat.

Now, it’s ready to go.

I lift my chin and stare him down. “If I knew this was how it would end, I would’ve tortured him a bit more first.”