Chapter 21 Griffin #2
I need to get her out of here. Now.
But I’m in the middle of a game. I don’t know what to do.
Like fate heard my plea, Jenkins intercepts a deflected pass meant for Brody to try to break away for another go at our goal. Not this time. I bodycheck him hard and fast, completely unprompted, and he falls to his ass, spinning out on the slippery ice.
The crowd roars, surging to their feet to better see the unexpected fight, and two refs skate up, whistles blaring. But it’s not enough. I need off the ice.
I throw my gloves and shout, “Who’s tired now, fuck stick? Come on. Get up, Jinx.”
Jenkins hates that nickname, and he heaves himself up, throwing his gloves too. He’s not their enforcer, he doesn’t normally fight, but in a blink, we’re going at it. I need this to happen faster, so I throw one straight for his temple, knowing it’ll get me the five for fighting that I want.
Whistles scream by my ear, and I push Jenkins away, looking expectantly to the ref. “Major penalty, five minutes.”
Perfect.
I don’t bother glaring at Jenkins. He had nothing to do with that fight and was just the unlucky target closest that’d I could hit and get off the ice. As a ref escorts me to the penalty box, my eyes stay locked on Penny. I jerk my head, telling her to come here.
Is that allowed? No. Talking to players in the sin bin will get us both in trouble. But she ducks down and gets as close as she can.
Go to the locker room. Get out of here before they see you. I mouth the words and point down the tunnel back toward the locker room, where there is security that will keep the goons away from her.
She shakes her head, her brow furrowed as she looks around like I don’t know it’s the middle of a game. “I can’t leave.”
The fuck she can’t.
But she doesn’t know what she’s up against. For everything I told her today, I stupidly still haven’t told her that the guys who’re after that ring work for Miles Conniver. She doesn’t understand the danger.
“You good, Honey?” the box attendant asks.
No. I’m not. I’m about to do the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Which tracks because, of course, it’s Penny driving me to madness.
I stand, dropping my stick, gloves, and helmet before grabbing the top of the plexiglass wall that surrounds the penalty box and bench area to vault myself up and over. The crowd closest to the box reacts instantly, cheering and saying, “Whoa.” But they don’t matter. Only Penny does.
Her eyes widen as I come barreling toward her, my skates clattering on the concrete. Grabbing her arm, I push her. “Come on. You have to get out of here.”
“Griffin,” she argues over me.
I don’t have time for this. My five minutes is going to be up soon, and I have to be ready. The only way to do that is to have Penny somewhere safe.
So I scoop her up, throwing her over my shoulder. My gear is hard plastic and probably poking her, but there’s no time for comfort. Besides, she’s kicking her feet and slapping at my back anyway, so I don’t think she’s looking for a cushy first-class-level ride.
“Put me down!” Her cry echoes through the tunnel, but when I start jogging down the padded floor toward the locker room, it changes to an angrier, “Don’t drop me!” as she grips around my waist, hanging on for dear life.
At the locker room’s door, I lower Penny to the ground and lock eyes with the security guard standing there. “Tim, nobody gets in other than Hawks. And don’t let her out either.”
“What?” he asks, confusion marring his usually jovial face. He’s a retired cop, but he’s still got the instincts in there somewhere.
“The fuck?” Penny finishes, slapping at me.
And though I can’t feel it through my padding, I whirl on her, grabbing her hands to stop her. “Penelope. They’re looking for you and they’re here. That means they know you’re a Hawkette.”
Her face goes slack as the blood drains. “I saw them at the post office today. They were trying to get my address, but I don’t think they did.”
Holy shit! She didn’t tell me that!
Like you didn’t tell her about Miles?
“Stay here,” I order. Thankfully, she nods her agreement. I press a quick kiss to her lips, give Tim a glare of don’t fuck this up, and tear off back down the tunnel toward the ice.
I hop over the wall and back into the penalty box with half the goddamn bench and arena looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Which makes sense, because I have. You don’t leave in the middle of the game unless you’re forced to or sports med takes you out.
“Ahhh . . . your five’s up,” the attendant says, opening the gate.
Guess they decided not to penalize me again.
I hit the ice like a demon-possessed monster, ignoring Coach as he screams for me to rotate off the fucking ice, goddamn it.
I don’t have anger filling me now. It’s cold dread mixed with hot fear, and the combination isn’t something warm and toasty but rather an explosive need to fuck shit up.
And since I can’t go into the crowd and attack the goons, the Torches will have to do.
Still, I do a quick scan of the crowd, finding the goons easily. They’re smooshed into two seats beside each other, just below the cheerleaders’ stage. And while they’re watching the game, they’re spending an inordinate amount of time turning around, looking for Penny up onstage.
“The fuck was that?” Dom shouts over his shoulder as he flies by, his eyes watching the action as Jacofovich fights to get a clear angle on the Torches’ goal.
“Later,” I snap back.
Jack Off shoots and scores, putting us one up.
While the crowd cheers and Jack Off does a tight victory lap around the net, the crowd laughs at something I can’t quite make out.
I glance up to the jumbotron and see that they’re replaying me jumping out of the penalty box, throwing Penny over my shoulder, and running down the tunnel with her.
Thankfully, it only shows her face for a split second, and when I quick cut my eyes at the goons, they seem to have missed it.
But Dominic didn’t miss anything. He may have missed it live, focused on defending the Torches’ power play, but he sees the replay, and is putting pieces together in real time.
“I can explain,” I rush to tell him, holding my hands out.
But he’s a freight train that won’t be stopped. “You son of a bitch!” he snarls. Before anyone can react, he’s on me. My best friend—hell, my only real friend—is beating the shit out of me.
His gloves are gone, his bare fists pummeling my body.
With a sharp smack, my helmet’s gone and he’s landing punches on my face.
Knowing I deserve it, I take every single one.
I don’t block them, I don’t duck, I simply let him destroy me, leaning back against the boards so I don’t go down to take a knee or a blade to the face.
Bam! I feel my nose crack and blood run down my lip.
Bam! My jaw takes a shot, and red-tinged spit flies onto the ice.
Bam! I lurch forward as he uppercuts my gut.
Whistles are blaring loudly, fans are screaming, and I can feel hands on us, other Hawks clearing the bench to try to pull us apart.
Finally, they manage to separate us, but I think, to everyone’s surprise, it’s Dominic they’re trying to control.
The refs confer for a long time as the trainer holds a towel to my face.
Sure, we were fighting, but fighting your own teammate?
How do they deal with that? Coach is arguing that it’s an internal thing, that at most a refusing-to-start-play bench penalty is all that’s required, but the refs shake their head, and I can hear them.
“Lee, Mahoney, game misconduct. Both are ejected.”
“But—”
“Be glad I don’t make it a match penalty, Coach!
” the ref says, and Coach shuts up. He’s right, that would incur an automatic suspension for both me and Dom.
We probably don’t deserve a match penalty, especially since, as Coach said, it was between teammates, but I’m not going to argue with it because this is one fucked-up situation no matter what.
Dominic and I are escorted to the edge of the ice by two refs and half the Hawks between us as human shields, with marching orders to keep going to the locker room.
And though Dom’s the one that went ballistic, Coach is glaring at me.
He knows I’m the loose cannon, and if steady-as-a-surgeon Dom gave me a beatdown, I deserved it.
That talk with him is shaping up to be a fucking doozy.
I push my way into the locker room, already jerking my sweater over my head.
Dom’s at my back, which I hate because I can feel him glaring at me, still deciding if he’s gonna take another go at me.
But now that I’m out of the game, my only mission is Penny.
I need to get her out of here and stashed somewhere safe.
I’m pulling off gear as quickly as I can, not caring about getting it in my bag. Hell, I’m barely tossing it toward my locker. Jersey, flung. Pads, dropped. Skates, ripped off, and fuck me, they’re probably half ruined from stomping on the fucking cement. Pants and socks, shoved down as one.
“How could you?” Dominic demands, his voice echoing sharply through the empty room. “I fucking trusted you.”
“I know,” I answer, not glancing his way or pausing my speed strip down. Finally, I’m naked as the day I was born, digging for sweats in my locker.
“Put your dick away so I can beat the shit out of you some more,” Dominic barks at me.
I yank my pants on, free balling it to hurry a little more, and Dominic steps up to me again.
He’s still geared up and stands several inches taller than me in his skates.
His pads will protect him, too, except I won’t be throwing any punches his way.
If he needs to hit me again, I’ll let him. As long as he’s quick about it.
“Can we do this later? I promise you can beat me to a pulp later. Right now, I need to make sure Penny is safe.”
That brings him up short, his entire face morphing to confused concern. “What do you mean safe? What the fuck’s going on, man?”
“Griffin?” Penny’s voice comes from the sports med room, drawing both my and Dom’s attention instantly. “What are you two doing in here? The second period still has a few minutes, right?”
I turn my face toward her, and she sees my bleeding nose and swelling eye, eliciting a gasp. “Oh my God! What happened?” I say nothing, but Dom’s face must give him away, because Penny plants her hands on her hips. “Dominic Lee! What the hell did you do?”
Shocked by her indignation, he stutters, “D-defend you?”
“Guys, let’s do this somewhere else. We need to go,” I tell them both.
“Go? Go where? There’s still another period, and Coach will want to talk to us after the game,” Dominic exclaims.
Ignoring him, I catch Penny’s eyes to say, “They’re still here, Pen.”
“Oh my God!” Horror washes over her face, but is quickly followed by true fear. I think that’s the only thing that gets Dominic moving, straight to her.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve got you, Penny-Nickel-Dime,” he says, trying to calm her down. Waving me off, he sneers, “I’ll handle whatever this is. You can go.”
I laugh outright. “The fuck you will. I’m going with her. If you want to come, you can.”
It’s a line in the sand. It’s always been the two of them as siblings and me on the outside. I guess, to Penny, it was Dom and me as friends, with her on the outside. Now there’s a new dynamic. It’s me and Penny as whatever we’re becoming, with Dominic on the outside.
Penny comes up to my side, looping her arm through mine and peering up at me. “Can we go?”
I watch as Dominic realizes everything has changed. “Motherfucker!”
Penny unhelpfully whispers, “Technically, he’d be a sister-fucker.” Dominic shoots her a deadly glare, and she squeaks, “Right. Not the time. Definitely not the time.”