Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
EVERETT
I t’s risky being here again. In Cedar Springs. Last time, I had my ass kicked. It’s also where Drake feels most confident, even if he is lying low after attacking Raine. I half expected police cars to be out in front of his apartment, but I should’ve known better. It was surprisingly easy to find him. He stole Raine’s phone, and I still have her location, and now, his location.
There’s no moon tonight. Nothing but black surrounds us in Griffin’s car. I figured Drake would recognize mine, and we couldn’t take Mav’s bike. Reeves’ car was also a no-go since I have no doubt the police would recognize it if someone was stupid enough to call them.
We won’t, but Drake might when he realizes we’re coming for him.
I glance down the street for the hundredth time. There’s a bar, the tattoo shop, Drake’s apartment, and about two blocks down, the Grizzlies’ arena. They don’t have a game tonight, but I wouldn't put it past Drake to go there in hopes of skating off his steam or solidifying his alibi.
Part of me wonders if I should’ve waited. If Raine will ever forgive me for this. It doesn’t matter. I promised to protect her. Even if it means handling it differently than she’d prefer. I check the GPS on my phone again, then look around the barren street. “He’s close.”
When a shadow appears around the side of the building in front of us, I study the figure, trying to pinpoint if it’s the man of the hour. My veins buzz with anticipation as I stare at him. He’s oblivious.
“Is it him?” Reeves asks beside me, keeping his voice quiet.
My eyes thin, and I slowly dip my chin.
Sliding a wolf mask into place, I reach for the door handle and wait until my friends give me the go-ahead. We bought the masks for a game night once, but they’ve been useful more times than I can count. And tonight? Tonight they’re perfect. Hiding our identity while sinister enough to scare the shit out of the man in front of us. Crouching low, I slide out of the car and glance around the rear bumper, balancing the metal baseball bat across my bent knees as Drake inhales his cigarette. The bud lights up his fucked-up face, and I smile behind my mask.
“Fuck, man,” Griffin whispers beside me. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“Don’t mess with anyone I love, and you’ll be fine,” I reply.
Reeves’ dark chuckle echoes beside me, and I lift two fingers into the air, motioning it's time for us to move. In silence, we cross the street, moving like ghosts until I swing the bat at the back of his head, and the asshole falls like a Redwood tree.
“Tiiiimber,” Reeves jokes.
We let him crumple to the pavement. Reeves grabs Drake’s ankles, and Griffin grips his hands. Then, together, we drag him back to the car and toss him in the trunk.
I needed a place no one would recognize. A place we could hide. A place not connected to me. Not easily, anyway. When Maverick suggested one of his dad’s empty apartments, I figured it was a good bet. Mav already added black plastic to the walls, blocking out any potential tells as to where we are. It doesn’t hurt that it’ll make for an easy clean-up in case Drake decides he wants to play this the hard way. Now, here we are. Masks in place. Each of us dressed in black with gloves covering our hands. The man of the hour is tied to a wooden chair, his head lolled forward. The lights are dim, but I can still make out a stain on the front of his shirt where his drool mixed with the blood trickling from his face. Griffin brought a burner phone, suggesting we film his confession. But after giving it some thought, I realized a confession from a tied-up and bloodied asshole might not be the way to go. Not if we want it to stick.
“You ready?” Griff asks beside me.
“Let’s do this.”
We form a half circle around an unconscious Drake, but the clock is ticking, and the longer we have him, the more likely we are to be caught. With my gloved hands clasped in front of me, I cock my head and nod to Mav. He splashes a bucket of ice water into Drake’s face, and the asshole sputters to life, gasping for air.
Griff was right. Drake’s face is bloody and bruised. And with the way he’s wheezing and the awkward angle of his nose? I’m gonna say I broke it during our fight. Poor bastard. I smile behind my mask.
“Morning, Sunshine,” I growl.
“Who the fuck are you?” Drake slurs. His gaze shifts from left to right, and if I had to guess, he’s sporting a massive headache and a possible concussion thanks to the baseball bat from earlier.
Good. Let him hurt.
“I think we both know who I am,” I reply. “Not that it matters. What does matter is you understand a few things.”
He laughs and tosses his head back, like I’m the funniest motherfucker in the world. “This is rich. You almost had me, Taylor. Almost. Let me go.”
“Nah, I think you’re gonna stay where you are,” I decide.
“What are you gonna do?” He laughs even harder. “Murder me?”
“To protect the woman I love?” I join in his amusement. “Yeah.”
He lifts his head again and looks me straight in the eye. And just like that, his humor evaporates. “You’re not a murderer, Taylor.” He says it like it’s a fact, but the slight tremor in his voice hints that he might not believe his statement as much as he wants to.
That makes two of us.
“I think you’d be surprised what a wolf is willing to do to protect its mate.” I let my words hang in the air, watching the way his hands tighten into fists and how he tugs at the ropes binding his arms behind his back.
“Look around,” I add, motioning to the thick plastic covering every surface in the room. “Do you really think I’d go through all this work for a bluff?”
He stays quiet, but I don’t miss how he takes in his surroundings or the way it’s eerily quiet. No cars outside. No voices on the other side of the door. Just me and him and a few more wolves.
“Or maybe I am bluffing,” I continue. “Maybe I don’t have it in me to kill you. But do you really think I’d let you walk out of here without guaranteeing Raine’s safety?”
His upper lip curls. “You can’t guarantee shit, Taylor. ”
“You know, I think you have a good point. Nothing in life is guaranteed, is it? But I’ll tell you what I do know.” I step toward where he’s tied and slowly circle him. “I know Raine’s the best thing that ever happened to you. I know you had a shit life, and your only ticket out of it is…” I stop in front of him and bend closer. “Do you want to take a guess?”
He glares up at me. “Fuck?—”
“Hockey. Hockey is your only ticket.” Resting one hand on my knee while cradling a baseball bat with my opposite one, I crowd him even further. “You and I are more alike than either of us wants to admit. And I know how much you want it. Your career. The travel. The money. The puck bunnies. The recognition we both know you deserve after all the hard work you’ve put in. Am I right?”
His eyes flash with contempt, but he doesn’t deny it.
“See?” I stand to my full height again and slowly circle him once more. “I told you we’re similar. Here’s the thing. There are benefits to analyzing our similarities. What makes us tick. And I have a feeling you’d really hate to lose your hockey career over a girl who doesn’t want you anymore…even if you’re delusional enough to believe she’d ever voluntarily pick you again. And sure, it’s fun to terrorize her. Makes you feel powerful. Like you’re in control, and fuckers like us love control, don’t we?” I slap my hand against his shoulder. “But losing your hockey career over it?” I smirk behind my mask. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s part of the plan. Am I right?”
“Get to the point, Taylor.”
I dig my fingers into his shoulder. “You’re gonna go to the cops.”
“And why”—he breathes through his wince—“would I do that?”
I scoop my fingers beneath his collarbone, squeezing the tender flesh until he shies away from my grasp, finally giving in and admitting he doesn’t exactly have the upper hand right now. Good. It’s time he understands how shitty his situation really is. Satisfied, I let him go, pat his sore shoulder, then stand to my full height. “Because whether or not we want to admit it, the sports industry cares more about what happens in the game with their players than what they do outside of it.”
His eyes thin, but he stays quiet.
Yeah, the asshole knows I’m right. Not gonna lie, it’s one of the things I hate most about the industry. The reminder of how much they’re willing to sweep under the rug as long as they score wins in the process. And it isn’t only the NHL. It’s basketball and baseball and football. In fact, the last time I checked, it was almost five percent. Five percent of professional athletes had domestic violence charges against them.
“You’re gonna go to the cops. And confess. And serve your time.”
“Not a fucking?—”
“Then,” I continue, “you’ll be released, and you’ll play for the Springfield Titans, like you’ve dreamed of since you were a little kid. Who knows? Since it’s your first offense, you might only be slapped with probation and community service.”
Nostrils flaring, Drake grits out, “And why the fuck would I confess?”
“Because if you don’t, I’ll slam this baseball bat into both of your knees, and you’ll never walk again. I considered only shattering one, but…why half-ass this, right?” I chuckle. “Goodbye, hockey career. Goodbye, gym. Goodbye, driving. Goodbye, life.”
“You know, it’s not a bad idea,” Maverick interjects. “If he never walks again, he won’t be able to chase Raine anymore. Maybe we should skip confession time and go straight to crippling. ”
“That’s a good point,” I muse dryly. “What do you think, Haitt?”
The bastard’s Adam’s apple bobs as his attention falls to the baseball bat in my hand. “Are you threatening me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“Try it,” he dares me. “See what happens. My career won’t be the only one up in flames, motherfucker. I’ll tell the cops you attacked me and?—”
“How?” I ask. “I’m at my cabin with my girlfriend. You see, she didn’t want to be left alone after you attacked her, so I stayed up all night watching Brooklyn 99 with her. In fact, her brother came up to the cabin, too, because he was so worried, and we wound up chatting all night after Raine fell asleep on my chest.” I tap the edge of the bat against the outside of his left knee.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“It’s a shame you fell on the ice outside your apartment, though. Kind of ironic and all, but hey. Sometimes, karma’s a bitch.”
His shoulders heave as he glares up at me. “You really think this will work?”
I nod. “Yeah. I really do.”
“What about your mess with the police?” he scoffs. “They’re not gonna believe you over me.”
Tucking my hands into my pockets, I shrug. “I’m willing to take my chances. I think the real question is…are you?” My head shifts to the baseball bat resting against his outer thigh, and he blanches.
“Look. I’ll leave her alone, all right?”
“Yeah, but you really won’t?—”
“I will!”
“Nah, you won’t. Not unless you face actual repercussions for once in your sorry existence.” I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Now, here’s how it’s gonna go.” I stand to my full height and cock my arm back, hitting him in his already broken nose. My split knuckles scream in protest, but I revel in it, letting the pain beneath my gloves ground me as blood pours from Drake’s wound. He curses in agony.
“Fuck!” His expression twists, and he spits in my face. The crimson dribble catches on my mask, and I smile wider beneath it.
Leaning closer, I whisper, “I’m gonna beat the shit out of you, so when you finally hobble your way to the police station, every twinge of pain will be a reminder of exactly how much restraint I showed. Because if you don’t hold up your end of the deal—if you don’t walk your sorry ass into the police station and confess to everything you were going to do Raine tonight if I hadn’t intervened—I’ll hunt you down and shatter both your knees so you never walk again. We clear?”
I don’t wait for his response. Instead, I let the bat fall to our feet. As it rolls on the ground, I flex my hand, then grab his wet shirt collar.
Because this? This is between me and Drake, and I’m about to make shit very clear. Hell, by the time I’m done with him? It’ll be fucking crystal, and he’ll beg to confess.
If he’s lucky, I just might let him.