Revenge Puck (Michigan Ice Wolves #1)

Prologue

AARON

My teammate has been acting strange lately.

How he thought he could fly under the radar is beyond me. We share a locker room, a practice schedule, and a mutual hatred of leg day. But that’s professional hockey for you—grown men with multimillion-dollar contracts and zero modesty.

Case in point: I see that hairy bastard naked on an almost daily basis.

And yet, I would bet money he’s been slipping out of the locker room like he’s avoiding something. Or someone.

Me, mostly.

And that is not like him—might even be funny if it weren’t so damn obvious.

Declan Kennedy doesn’t do avoidance. He’s the guy rallying after a loss, after a win, or when team morale takes a hit. He kicks us in the ass when we’re dragging.

Hockey has a way of blurring lines for us.

Teammates become roommates.

Brothers.

Built-in best friends.

We spend more time together than we do with our families, for fuck’s sake.

More time than I spend with my girlfriend, Bailey, if I’m being honest. Practices, conditioning days, travel, games—there’s no such thing as personal space when you share a bench, locker, and hotel room with the same fifty guys for nine months straight.

Longer, if we get lucky and make it to the playoffs.

I notice him leaving practice early lately, skipping team dinners.

I notice the absence of his usual shit-talk during drills, the empty seat beside me on the bench. I notice because he’s usually the one making the effort when the grind starts wearing everyone down.

The guy left his equipment bag at the rink, and Kennedy doesn’t forget things, not when it comes to hockey.

Kennedy is the guy who shows up.

And I want to be the guy who shows up for him.

Which is why I’m riding the elevator up to his high-rise apartment instead of minding my own damn business. Something is up, and I’m gonna find out what it is.

I knock.

Knock again when I don’t hear footsteps walking toward the door.

“Dude,” I call out. “I know you’re in there. Your truck is in the parking garage.”

Silence.

I exhale, dragging a hand down my face, unease curling low in my gut.

I don’t love this.

I don’t like meddling, but I trust my gut, and my gut is telling me something is off and someone should know about it.

Hesitating, I search my phone for the door code he gave me months ago after a late night and too many beers in case of emergencies.

I punch it in. Turn the handle, door clicking open.

Step inside, half expecting an alarm system to begin beeping out its ten second countdown warning.

Kennedy’s apartment is big and bright, with expansive floor-to-ceiling windows. Glass everywhere. An uninterrupted view of the city below, the entire place designed to leave nothing hidden.

And yet…

I tread lightly, door clicking shut behind me; every one of my instincts is on edge as my eyes scan every corner and doorway as if expecting to find Declan slumped somewhere, broken or drunk.

The living room is empty.

Kitchen, too.

I drift farther, gaze snagging on the counter. Several empty wine bottles. Take-out containers stacked haphazardly. Dirty plates pushed aside like no one bothered to clean up because they were too busy doing something else.

A half-eaten slice of cake.

I follow the soundless apartment down the hall, my pulse thudding in my ears, until I stop outside the bedroom door.

This time I don’t knock.

Like an idiot, I push the door open without announcing myself—a decision I immediately regret.

My eyes take in the scene rapidly, brain finding it impossible to process what I’m seeing. I thought I’d find Declan alone—possibly despondent. Instead, I see—

Bailey.

For several seconds, I barely know where to look—or how to breathe because that woman he’s fucking? Is my girlfriend.

Mine.

Not his.

Head tipped back, Bailey’s hands grip the headboard for leverage, and her tits bounce as she fucks him, whining moans I’m all too familiar with. Felt them against my skin dozens of times.

In my bed. In hers.

Declan smacks her ass, hard, fingers squeezing. Digging in possessively like he owns her, and that’s when it hits me: This isn’t a one-time thing.

This is not a mistake. They did not get drunk and fall into bed together last night.

They’ve done this before. Probably many times.

Behind my back.

I stand frozen, blood draining from my face. Fists clench as I stare down at them from the doorway, waiting for one of them to notice me. I can’t fucking move.

It’s sick, I know, but I can’t for the life of me look away.

Bailey moves with ease, working his dick.

It makes my stomach churn how confident, practiced, and in control she is; this is a choice she’s fully committed to.

She leans down, mouth brushing his neck, blonde hair spilling forward as she murmurs something I can’t hear, marveling in the power she has over him.

Declan groans loudly. His hands grip her waist, guiding her faster. Faster. “Fuck yeah, babe…”

Babe.

The word hits my chest like a gunshot, echoing through me as my girlfriend lets out a broken little sound: I know that sound.

She’s about to come.

And in that exact second, something inside me dies.

The man I would’ve taken a bullet for—the guy who stood beside me through every injury, every drunken win, every sunburned vacation—vanishes right in front of my eyes.

Poof.

Gone.

Replaced by a stranger who didn’t hesitate to drive a knife between my ribs and twist for good measure.

I lean back against the wall, crossing my arms like this is nothing more than a mildly interesting inconvenience, and I have all day to discuss.

“Having fun?”

My words cut through the air like a blade.

They stop fucking.

Bailey jerks her head toward the door as if she’s been shocked, crisp sheets tangling around her legs. She fumbles to cover herself, breath coming out in panicked bursts at my intrusion.

She gasps, hands flying up to cover the tits I’ve seen dozens of times.

As if modesty is gonna save her now.

Declan goes rigid.

For a split second, he stares dumbfounded at the sight of me, mouth gaping open, eyes wide as if I’m a hallucination he can blink away.

He blinks.

“A-Aaron—” Bailey gasps, horrified. “Oh my god, Aaron.”

“Don’t say my name,” I say quietly. “If you say it one more time, I’m going to lose what little restraint I have left.”

Declan stares up at me from the bed, cock most likely shriveling by now. His mouth opens. Closes. The deer-in-headlights look doesn’t suit him, but it’s the only thing he’s wearing at the moment.

I tilt my head.

“Please, continue. Don’t let me stop you. I mean, honestly Kennedy, if you’re gonna fuck my girlfriend in the middle of the afternoon, the least you could do is finish the job.”

“We—w-we didn’t know you were coming,” Bailey breathes, voice trembling.

It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes.

“No shit, hey? You really weren’t expecting me?” I’m controlled. Lethal. “Weird. I didn’t know the two of you were coming, either.”

I push off the wall to take a step forward—not toward them, but to watch Declan flinch from the unknown.

Good.

I want him to be afraid of what I might do.

“You wanna know what the pisser about this is?” I keep my eyes locked on his because this is between us.

“I’m here because I was worried sick about you.

You’ve been bailing on practice—leaving early.

Avoiding me.” A humorless huff escapes me.

“I was gonna drag you to the gym. Thought maybe there were things we needed to talk about. Blow off steam.”

I couldn’t have predicted how right I was.

Always trust your gut.

Bailey clutches the sheet to her chest like it might hide her, hands trembling so badly it’s almost comical. Face bone-white, lips parted—her brain clearly can’t form coherent words.

I glance at my girlfriend. “Looks like you beat me to the blowing part.”

Declan grimaces. “Dude. Could you give us a second to put some clothes on so we can explain?”

Explain?

Is he fucking for real?

I laugh. “I’ve seen your dick before—and we all know I’ve seen her naked. No need to be shy.”

“Don’t be a prick,” she snaps.

“You know, Bailey.” My smile is sardonic. “You could have broken up with me and spared us all this scene. Been a fucking adult about it.”

I glance around the room again, more critically this time.

Clothes scattered like they came off in a hurry. An open bottle of wine on the nightstand. Bra. Boxer shorts. Shades half drawn. The air thick with betrayal.

What Bailey and I had was comfortable. Easy.

Convenient.

We didn’t see each other constantly—we’re both busy—but she loved sitting in the stands at my games. Loved sitting with the WAGs. Liked the attention. Liked slipping into my bed on the nights our schedules aligned, having sex, falling asleep beside me.

So what if things have gotten dull and boring? That’s no reason to cheat. Clearly, she doesn’t love me. Did she ever?

Love isn’t lies and secrets and sneaking around.

“How long?” I ask him.

He swallows hard. “It—it wasn’t like that.”

“Funny,” I snort. “It looks exactly like that.”

He runs a hand through his hair, panic bleeding through his words. “I never meant to hurt you, Bishop.”

Too late.

Bailey couldn’t have chosen a worse guy to fuck. I mean, Christ. If she doesn’t love me—fine. It hurts, but I can survive.

Him on the other hand? You don’t accidentally fuck your friend’s girlfriend.

That part guts me.

I swallow hard, chest tight, heart doing a slow, painful collapse.

“Have you been fucking her behind my back this entire goddamn time?” I ask Declan. “While I was running drills next to you at practice and calling you brother?”

I deserve better than this and they both know it.

“Dude, I—”

“Piss off.” I cut him off, disgusted. “I don’t want an apology.” I look at Bailey. “You know what the irony of this is, Bay? I knew we weren’t going to last forever, but I trusted you. I thought you had enough decency not to fucking cheat on me.”

Bailey is crying now, loud tears tracking down her cheeks as she sobs dramatically. “Aaron, we were going to tell you—”

I shake my head. “No. You weren’t.”

She chokes down more tears, mascara streaking down her face. “You don’t understand—you’ve been busy, you’re always gone! I felt invisible and—”

“Stop,” I tell her coldly. “You don’t get to turn this into something tragic. You cheated with my best friend.”

I am emotionless.

“Well.” I clasp my hands, eyes locking on Declan. “Hope she was worth our friendship, you backstabbing piece of shit.”

He isn’t my brother anymore.

“You wanted to fuck me over?” I step back out the door, lowering my voice, holding his gaze. “Congratulations. I will not forget this.”