FIVE
Max
I know where this is going.
“Spit it out, Coach. I’m exhausted.” I steady my gaze on the man with the most gorgeous and haunting dark eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Luca will be your personal bodyguard.”
Luca ... Fuck, that’s a sexy name, but crap, I didn’t think Coach would go this far.
“Hang on.” I hold up a hand. “Define personal.”
“He’ll be moving in with you.”
The man, the guard , stiffens like this part of the assignment is news to him as well.
“That’s going too far,” I argue. “I’ll let him tail me.”
“ Tail you?” he speaks to me for the first time with a dark eyebrow raised, his deep voice smooth and velvety.
Oh no...
I do not need this distraction. This temptation.
“Keeping an eye on me,” I say through a tight throat, my balls vibrating. It’s fucking unraveling me. What is this?
“The entire security team already keeps an eye on the players,” Coach challenges me. “This is another layer of specialized security for you off the ice.”
“My apartment building has guards, and my penthouse has a security system.”
“The guards aren’t armed,” Luca points out. “They can be compromised. Paid to look the other way. They won’t fight back for minimum wage. Especially the overnight guards. It irritates me how the building managers skimp on security when the residents are most vulnerable.”
He speaks like he’s already checked out my building.
“Fine. Stake out my building. Sit in the lobby. Knock yourself out.” I’m quite easy to watch. During the day, I work out, go to practice, and... I struggle to finish that. What the hell else do I do?
Nothing. I have no life.
“You have four bedrooms in that penthouse of yours, right?” Coach folds his arms.
I break the stare from Luca. “Three. I use one as an office.”
“Luca will stay in one of those bedrooms. We’ll take it week by week,” Coach intervenes again. “Right now, when you leave here, you’re leaving with Sheppard. He’s taking you home, moving in. Where you go, he goes. When you sleep, he sleeps.”
“Then how does he protect me if he’s sleeping?” I bite back, realizing I don’t know how it works with personal bodyguards.
“I’m a light sleeper,” Luca huffs. “And trained to deal with middle-of-the-night intruders.”
Middle of the night? My world closes in around me.
“Looks like you’re not getting discharged until tomorrow.” Coach shoves a hand through his hair, looking wrecked. “Get some sleep. The GM will keep you off the official injured list. Say you’re dealing with a personal issue for a few days before the Cape May game.”
I exhale. “Sure thing, Coach.”
He smiles and then looks at Luca. “You good to post outside his room until he gets discharged?”
“Yes, sir.”
Tough bastard, dragged out here in the middle of the night and has to stay awake to stare at bland walls. The room is pretty pathetic, too, but moving me to some kind of VIP suite will get people talking.
Coach nods my way. “Get. Some. Sleep. We’ll get through this.”
Nodding, I watch him shake hands with Luca. With the weight of the world already on his shoulders this close to the end of the season, Coach and my agent leave me alone with this brooding man who makes my stomach do flip flops.
I expect the guard to start his post outside the room, but Luca removes his wool coat and drops it on one of the two plastic chairs next to my bed.
His movements stir a flashing memory of my father storming into my bedroom after he found out about me and Jake. It must be the blow to the head bringing back the trauma from my childhood.
Pushing up the sleeves of his dark green waffle shirt, Luca exposes tats, and I scoff inwardly. This guy couldn’t be more different from my father.
I sit up and throw the covers aside, needing to take a wicked piss.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Luca approaches me.
Holding the bed rail, and looking to see what the hell I’m hooked up to, I say, “None of your business. You were told to post out in the hall.”
“No chairs out there.”
I laugh. Not so tough after all. But it’s a dick move to make a guy stand all night. “Take one of these.” I motion to the one with his coat.
It’s not the dark gray zip-up kind with the Crusher’s logo worn by our security team.
“You need the toilet?” he asks.
“I do.” I motion to the IV line attached to me. “Where the hell does this go?”
Here I am asking for help two seconds after trying to throw him out.
“Hang on.” He strides toward me, his cologne wafting into my nostrils, sending my heart into a free fall. “Here’s the stand.”
With smooth precision, he unhooks a bag of clear liquid from the bedpost, and hangs it on the rolling stand. Then he finds the tube, following it to my arm. His hand brushes against my wrist. “Jeez, you’re ice cold.”
“Get used to it. I’m not a warm and fuzzy guy.”
“Neither am I. We’ll get along perfectly.” He unwinds the tube, freeing me from this damn bed.
Despite the saline drip, my sight goes hazy from the blow to my head and loss of blood.
Luca is there, with a hold that I recognize as a professional way to keep a dude steady.
“I got it.” I shrug away anyway and clench my stomach to make it to the damn bathroom without falling on my face.