Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Rebel Arena, Freedom
R obyn
“Stop looking at them,” Dad mutters, “you’re going to be twenty-eight next week. This is no longer child’s play.”
I duck my head, allowing my long hair to cover my face. I force myself to stop glaring at the crowd of men and women in designer power suits who are on the other side of the Rebel Arena rink, watching the team practice.
The board have brought their families for a Saturday morning outing to the rink.
They’re watching the players, who are dressed in Bay Rebels jerseys, as if they’re toys that they own.
Bronwyn and Heine are chatting with a quiet intensity.
I stiffen, when Kates points at Shay.
I understand what Dad means though.
We’re here to spy on the board members, as much as to keep an eye on Colton.
Colton can hold extra practices to drive the players to exhaustion (and already half the players are looking ready to puke), undermine Dad’s authority, and swagger around like he’s already in charge here.
But at least Dad and I can monitor his plotting.
This is war, after all. And I’m not losing.
I grimace, rubbing my hand over my lower back.
The dull ache has been there all morning from my period. Although, the massage from Shay helped as soon as he woke up, as did the fact that he was naked and gorgeous in the sleepy way that he has at dawn.
He’s rarely so relaxed, apart from when he’s just orgasmed or been taken down into subspace.
I love those moments with him.
The breakfast in bed from Eden helped just as much: rich coffee, egg bagels, and chocolate chip muffins.
I wish that I could still be laid out, enjoying being hand fed my breakfast by Eden.
Instead, I must watch D’Angelo and Shay being driven to the edge of their limits by the man who is trying to take everything away from us.
I wrinkle my nose at the familiar smell of the arena: the bite of cold air mixed with sweat and rubber.
The lights are dim, apart from the spotlights that are directed onto the rink and its red and blue markings.
“When I took over as PR Director, I didn’t expect to need to become Bond. If you wanted an Alphahole who looks coldly attractive holding a cocktail in one hand and a gun in another without a good chance of shooting themselves in the foot, then you should have asked D’Angelo.” I struggle to keep up with Dad’s fast strides alongside the rink without slipping.
At least I’m not wearing heels, but sturdy boots, a woolen fuchsia dress, my warmest coat, and fluffy gloves.
Would James Bond wear fluffy gloves to protect his delicate fingers from the cold?
Shivering, I stuff my gloved hands into the pockets of my coat.
Also, would Bond enjoy sniffing the gray scarf that’s wound around his neck because it smells deliciously of the sweet, vanilla scent of their lover?
If he wouldn’t, then he’s missing out.
Eden wrapped his gray scarf around my neck this morning.
Dad had sent me a text arranging this meeting. Eden wanted to come with me but he had important PA work to complete for D’Angelo.
I know that Eden was conflicted.
At the same time, I could see that he was in pain from his shoulder. When we were on the road trip, an asshole player on another team wrenched it out of his sling and behind his back, damaging his slow recovery.
I need to have Cody schedule more physiotherapy with him.
What Eden didn’t need was to be around my dad, when Dad is like a wounded bear after Colton’s betrayal.
“Weren’t you in the same meeting as me?” Dad tightens his hands on the official stack of files, which are emblazoned with the team’s puck logo. “According to our damn boss, Jude is the Bond villain. And I’m the dumb asshole who just staked everything on him.”
“Thank you,” I say, softly.
Finally, Dad stops and glances over his shoulder at me. “You don’t need to thank me. I’d have done the same for any of my players. This sport is meant to be about loyalty. It’s the one thing that Jude has always got right. He treats his team like brothers. They jumped over themselves to write those character reference letters. The staff too. That man should understand his strengths and weaknesses better. He may have demons and flaws that would crack most people. But he could charm the damn devil.”
My expression tightens. “That’s only because he puts everybody else’s needs first. They respect his dedication and support. He’s captain but he doesn’t act like an entitled jerk.”
Dad harrumphs. “I don’t need you to speak up for him. We both know that you’re not impartial.”
I frown. “It’s got nothing to do with…”
The fact that we’re in a relationship…that he’s the man I love more than life itself.
Or the fact that this morning, D’Angelo whispered dirty talk about what he was going to do to me as soon as my period finished, while meanly kissing the most sensitive point on my body, behind my ear, which had me teetering on the edge of coming. Then stopped, pulling back and smoothing down his suit.
D’Angelo’s eyes glinted. “Something to anticipate, principessa.”
I could have ripped the sheets that were bunched tightly in my fists.
I have a real love-hate relationship with orgasm denial.
But my next orgasm is going to be earth shattering.
Dad turns, studying the players on the ice. “I don’t damn well care. Everything from now on is about putting on a show for the assholes on the other side of the rink. I won’t look weak.”
“You mean, putting on a show for Colton, right?” I pull my hands out of my pockets and lean on the glass. “Do you still like that he’s a hard-ass?”
Colton is shouting at Atlas.
Atlas blanches. He’s shaking.
Zach, the goalie, looks ready to dive out from his goal to defend Atlas.
D’Angelo’s expression is set in a grim line. He’s slouching and trying to make it look casual, as if his legs aren’t about to buckle. It’s obvious, however, that his curls are plastered to his forehead. He wipes the sweat off his face with his jersey.
I lean against the glass.
I can’t resist trying to get closer.
Shay is the only one on the ice who is skating laps. Even if he wasn’t, however, I wouldn’t notice anybody else because I wouldn’t be able to look away from this hockey god.
Shay is mesmerizing…my English ice prince.
Shay is faster than anyone in the NHL.
Faster than anyone alive.
Every time that I see him skating, it gives me goosebumps. I forget just how extraordinary he is.
The truly remarkable thing about Shay…? Is that he doesn’t understand how extraordinary he is.
It’s what makes him such a good guy and nothing like most of the narcissistic jerks in the hockey world.
Like my ex-husband, Wilder.
Many talented men believe that they’re just a little bit better than they are.
On the other hand, Shay has no idea just how good he is.
Shay handles his skates in the same way that D’Angelo is a virtuoso on the piano or Eden turns tea and book reading into something sublime.
Shay has the potential to become the best player in the NHL. Possibly, with D’Angelo’s continued mentoring, who has ever played.
By the way that Dad’s watching him hawk-like, I know what he’s thinking.
My breath hitches for an entirely different reason, however, when Shay skates past me.
He’s looking green about the gills like he’s close to vomiting, collapsing, or possibly both at the same time. But he’s not stopping. I know that it’s partly because I’m here, and he wants to put on a good show.
My heart aches.
“Can’t you stop this?” I glare at Colton. “That bully is going to fucking wreck them. I’ll kick his ass, if he—"
“You won’t.” Dad narrows his eyes at Colton. “That would make you look weak. My players can tough this out.”
“They shouldn’t have to.”
“I made a mistake.” Dad avoids my eye. I jolt. Dad rarely admits that he’s got something wrong, in the same way that he almost never says sorry. “I thought that the traitor was my hard-ass. But Colton betrayed me in order to get a shot at my job. Well, he’s going to learn that as tough as he thinks he is, I’m tougher. I fucking bust the balls of anyone who crosses me.”
A chill runs down my spine.
That’s true.
I learned just how true only last week.
My childhood was ruined by the scandal about Dad’s NHL career, when Dad injured another player on the ice.
I discovered that Dad attacked the man, Gibbs, because he was in an unhealthy polyamorous relationship with Mom. Gibbs felt that he’d been rejected and abandoned by Dad and Mom when they married.
I hope that my men don’t think that I’d do that to them.
Dad was ruthless to Gibbs. He’s been equally hard on D’Angelo. He’s been hard on Cody his entire life.
In fact, after Mom’s death from cancer, Dad retreated into himself and started treating Cody like the bad kid who needed tough love to straighten him out.
I tried to protect my younger brother.
It wrecks me that every time Cody was dragged into the study for punishment, I failed.
Dad isn’t someone who you want to cross.
If Colton thinks that Dad is going to hide away from this challenge to his authority, then he isn’t going to only have his balls busted.
He’s going to lose them.
“So, we’re standing here in order to…?” I ask.
“Intimidate the traitor.” Dad’s gaze is dark.
I study Colton, who is yelling at Shay to skate another lap.
“Ehm, he doesn’t really look intimidated,” I venture.
D’Angelo appears ready to explode. He opens his mouth like he’s going to refuse to allow Shay to skate anymore, but I catch his eye and shake my head.
Colton wants to break D’Angelo in front of the VIPs.
We can’t let him.
Frustrated, D’Angelo skates forward, grabbing Shay’s arm to steady him, as Shay wobbles. Then he determinedly starts to skate the lap alongside him.
To my surprise, without being ordered to by Colton, Atlas shoots D’Angelo a cocky grin, then joins them as well.
Slowly, each member of the team starts to skate laps in solidarity.
My eyes burn with tears.
Colton gapes at the players, opening and closing his mouth like he doesn’t know whether he should be praising them or shouting insults.
Fuck you, Colton.
From the opposite side of the rink, Bronwyn slow claps.
“See?” Dad taps the files against the glass. “D’Angelo has the team’s loyalty. This is the strength we need because those vultures will jump on any weakness. Do you understand, Robyn? We can’t afford a single negative PR story or scandal over the next week.”
“Got it.”
I hope.
Around these PR nightmares, it’s like fighting fires every day.
I clench my jaw, determined.
I’ll be D’Angelo and Shay’s PR shield. I can do this for them.
I’m protecting these men, Dad, and the entire Bay Rebels team.
It’ll be hell for both players and staff if Colton and Heine take it over.
I try to tune out Colton’s sneering voice.
One more week of this.
Three games.
Dad turns away from the rink. “Keep your shit together and make sure that Jude and Shay do the same. Shay is our secret weapon. Colton can’t see what we both can: He’s a legend in the making. That boy could be one of the best. He’s going to be the reason that we win or lose this week. Hell, this season. But we also both know that he has more monsters in his past than most of us. I can provide him with therapy and help him with one-to-one coaching myself. But whatever you’re doing with him is making the real difference. So, keep doing it.”
“I’m loving him, Dad,” I reply, softly.
I don’t think that Dad means keep doing things like using my tentacle dildo on Shay, riding his face hard, or stuffing my panties in his mouth as a gag.
Right?
Although, I’m doing all those things too.
Regularly.
“More like you’re offering him stability. I don’t care. Whatever it is, it’s working. As long as he keeps on scoring for us.” Dad begins to march away from the rink, and I hurry to follow him. “Don’t forget my annual costume Halloween party on Friday. I expect you all to be there.”
I freeze. “What Halloween party?”
I feel numb.
Dad is still walking like he hasn’t noticed that I’m not behind him any longer.
My hands are shaking. My throat is dry.
Mom died on Halloween.
Strangely, that’s not what distresses me. It’s the memory that a day Code and I had always loved before that was never celebrated again.
Mom would have hated that.
We weren’t allowed to go trick-or-treating, put out pumpkins, dress up, or go to parties. Instead, we were haunted by our own ghosts.
The first Halloween party that I went to again was at college with D’Angelo.
He made it special and fun with his brand of wild debauchery, until strangely, I felt like I was no longer haunted.
He brought me to life that night.
Of course, I didn’t realize that his horny devil outfit that consisted of nothing but a pair of flashing horns and showed off his gorgeous naked ass, was worn out of necessity.
He hadn’t been able to afford a costume because he was struggling to survive without any family on his scholarship, starving some weeks. So, he went naked to the party.
He liberated me, while being trapped himself.
I wasn’t able to save him all those years ago but I can now.
Finally, Dad realizes that I’m not following him.
He turns to look at me.
“What?” He appears confused. “Didn’t I tell you about my annual parties? I put on events throughout the year for my team, along with the board. It’s no different to my cookouts at the lake house.”
Except, it fucking is.
When I was a kid, Dad would retreat to his bedroom every Halloween.
I’d be left to look after Cody for the evening, trying to keep him as quiet as possible because I knew that Dad would be drinking himself into a stupor.
I dreaded what he’d do, if Code disturbed him in that state.
But now, Dad is putting on costume parties for his fucking players…?
He appears to notice the way that I’m thrumming with anger.
“It’s work , Robyn,” he says. “And this year, the party needs to be bigger and better than normal to show those assholes that they can’t intimidate a McKenna. They may be billionaires but they still can’t come into my town and team and push my players around like pawns on a chessboard.”
I run a shaky hand through my hair. “Is Code coming?”
“Your brother is only staff.”
I clench my jaw. “He’s family.”
Dad sighs. “I’m already going to spare an hour or something to take him boating tomorrow. Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to work on my relationship with him or whatever bullshit therapist speak? What more do you want from me? Would you like to come along and make sure that I’m playing nice? This is a crisis. I’m trying with your brother. But he’s difficult.”
“He isn’t. And if you want me at that party, then both Code and Eden had better receive invites.”
Dad looks at me, faintly impressed.
Dad may have power over my lovers, brother, and me. But I’m done with every single person who thinks that they can crush the people who I love: Dad, Colton, the board, and Heine.
Power isn’t good or bad
It’s people who choose to use their power as a weapon.
With his social anxiety, I have a feeling that Eden would rather spend an evening quietly at Captain’s Hall with the squirrel that visits him on the tree by his window and a good book, than go to a party with strangers (in fact, stay home to be tortured over a large event at Dad’s house).
Yet I’m damn well making sure that he’s not left off the invitation list.
I tilt up my chin. “Don’t be weak, right?”
“That’s my daughter.” Dad chuckles. “Charles made a mistake taking on our family.”
I hear what he’s not saying: He includes D’Angelo in his family.
I wish that D’Angelo could have heard him say that.
When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I hurriedly pull it out.
It’s Eden.
Shit, I hope that Eden hasn’t collapsed.
His post-concussion syndrome symptoms haven’t been as severe this last week. He’s still getting headaches, however, even if he doesn’t complain. I can only tell by his furrowed brow and the way that he squints in the light.
It worries me leaving him by himself in case of his bouts of dizziness.
“Hey,” I answer, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Eden replies. His voice, however, is tight with a dark rage that makes me instantly on the alert. “I uploaded the official photograph that I took at the beach of D’Angelo and Shay to our Bay Rebels social media account. It’s gone viral.”
I blink. “Isn’t that good news?”
“Not with the trolling and hate comments.”
“But they were only sunbathing in the photo,” I protest.
We weren’t meant to be having scandals.
No bad press.
Shit.
“It’s my fault.” Eden sounds guilty and troubled. “I didn’t know how angry people would be to see the players happy. I don’t understand it. I’ve called security about the death threats. I accept responsibility. I’ll resign.”