6. Lincoln
LINCOLN
Enzo glanced over at me as my fingers tightened around my beer bottle, watching the Cranham Kings swagger into Ashbrook House like they owned the place. “Not a fan of my plan, I take it?”
My jaw clenched. “I get why you and Thorpe came up with this idea to try and break some of the tension between the teams, but it doesn’t fix the problem, does it?”
“Which is?” His brows lifted in challenge, and my words died in my throat.
Because Vincenzo Fontana was one of them, really.
He was in the mafia, along with his younger sister, Vesper, who was the same age as me.
It was enough for them to be shunned by a large minority of the Whelford student population, although Enzo had it much easier than his sister did, being the hockey team captain.
That, and he was a good-looking guy. Maybe it was more accurate to say he was shunned by the students on campus who weren’t into sports—unless they involved a racquet or a rowing boat.
“Uh…” I cleared my throat. “You know how the students here feel about Cranham Uni. Add in the fact that their team beat us today, and we know they’re going to gloat while we’re drowning our sorrows. Inviting them here? Don’t you think it’s a disaster waiting to happen?”
Ashbrook House was one of our student houses, a five-storey nineteenth-century building consisting of a combination of individual flats and larger shared accommodations.
It was also nicknamed “the party house” by Whelford students, with good reason.
And now the Cranham Kings were here in our territory, sullying it with their presence.
Enzo shot me a warning look. “It won’t be a disaster, if you play nice. And you’d better play nice.”
“I will,” I muttered.
“Good. Go. Mingle.” His gaze flicked to the corner of the room, and he smirked. “If there are any individuals you specifically have a problem with, take it to the yard. We have an open invitation.”
The yard. The former prison exercise yard right in the centre of Cranham University territory.
Ringed by mesh fencing topped with barbed wire, it was used after hours to settle disputes, among other things.
As much as the idea of having free rein to pummel a certain hockey forward held its appeal, it was a bad, bad idea for me to go anywhere near that place.
I followed Enzo’s gaze. Tousled red hair and a blindingly white smile appeared in my line of vision, and I gritted my teeth.
“I’ll do that,” I ground out. Stalking away from Enzo, I headed to the opposite corner of the room, far away from Daniel Hoyton.
Despite Enzo’s instructions to mingle, I knew that if I ended up in Daniel’s vicinity, we were likely to come to blows.
It had been bad enough on the ice earlier, but now, adding alcohol into the mix and no refs to pull us apart… it was a disaster waiting to happen.
Still… I scanned the crowds, noticing two of the Kings’ players, Toby Wells and Neo Clayton, over near the makeshift dance floor with women already swarming around them. I changed direction, grabbing the wrist of our D-man, Jasper Campbell, on the way.
“The fuck, Bellingham?”
“We’ve been told to mingle. Wells and Clayton are our best bet.”
Jasper’s face cleared. “Yeah. I guess they’re alright…for Cranham prison dickheads. Best of a bad bunch, anyway.”
I jerked my head in agreement. Wells and Clayton were probably the least aggravating members of the Kings, and as far as I knew, they weren’t criminals.
I needed to stay far away from criminals.
Just as we reached Wells and Clayton, a hand shot out, and then I was yanked back into a body I was beginning to become uncomfortably familiar with.
“Not so fast,” a voice hissed in my ear, hot breath hitting my skin.
I shuddered with what could only be revulsion, dumping my beer bottle on the windowsill so I had both hands free.
Free to strangle this asshole, preferably.
“Get your hands off me, Hoyton, unless you want to lose them.”
He chuckled as I let him manhandle me out of the room and down the corridor.
Don’t cause a scene, I repeated to myself, over and over, doing my best to ignore both the curious looks from my fellow students and my rising anger.
When he came to a stop in a quieter part of the corridor, he released me, and I immediately spun on him, wrapping my hand around his throat.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I snarled.
His blue eyes sparkled with humour, completely undeterred by the way my thumb was pressing into his pulse point. His heart was pounding just as hard as mine, though. I could feel it.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against my palm. “Didn’t see you complaining.”
“The only reason I’m here with you now is because I know how to be a team player.”
“Aren’t you a good little boy?”
“There’s nothing fucking little about me, Hoyton. Unlike you and your disappointing dick.”
His lip curled. “One—there’s nothing little about my dick. Two—why are you thinking about my dick? Want a go on it? Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t swing that way.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, thanks.”
“That wasn’t an invitation.” I leaned in, placing my mouth to his ear. “Stop wasting both our time with your pointless words. What do you want?”
I already knew the answer.
“Operation Foxglove,” he said, his hand coming up to wrap around my wrist. “I want answers, and you’d better let go of my fucking throat before I stab you.”
“You really want to threaten a Bellingham?” I said softly. “Even though you know we have the power to end your family?”
Daniel’s eyes darkened. His mouth was so close to mine that our lips were almost touching. “Yes.”
I tightened my grip on his throat. He swallowed against me again, his hand still wrapped around my wrist. Pressing my body into his, I angled my head away from his mouth, my nose brushing over his cheek as I went for his ear. “My family could end yours,” I rasped. “Just like that.”
“You fucking wish. You’re delusional.” His fingers dug into my skin. With our bodies plastered together, I vaguely registered the steel bar against my hip. My heart pounded at the realisation. It tracked that this asshole got off on violence. All criminals did, probably.
A millisecond later, my brain screeched to a halt, all the breath leaving my lungs in one stuttered exhale.
No.
That wasn’t Hoyton’s dick.
Okay. It was.
But mine was hard too.
I jumped back from him, tearing my wrist away from his tight grip. He stared at me, silent for once, his tongue coming out to swipe across his lips in an involuntary movement.
“Stay the fuck away from me, Hoyton,” I ground out, turning on my heel and stalking away. Getting hard from violent situations—that was a new low for me. I was better than that. Fucking hell.
Thankfully, my dick was back under control by the time I re-entered the main room of the party.
Weaving through the crowds, I found my beer where I’d discarded it the second I’d seen Daniel.
It was warm by this point, telling me that I’d been gone from the party much longer than planned.
Grimacing, I headed over to the kitchen and tipped the remainder down the sink.
When I had a fresh, chilled bottle in hand, I made my way back through the house to Toby Wells and Neo Clayton, nodding at the Kings’ goalie, Anton Volkov, as I passed him.
He returned my greeting with a tight nod of his own, his gaze drifting to the other side of the room, where Vesper Fontana was flirting with Jay Attwood, one of Daniel’s closest friends.
“Clayton. Wells.” I greeted them with yet another nod.
They both shot me a wary look before exchanging glances.
Something unspoken passed between them, two best friends who could communicate without words, and a pang of…
something went through me. I didn’t have that.
I didn’t have someone I could call a best friend, or anything deeper than superficial friendships, aside from my uncle.
“Lincoln,” Wells said, offering me a genuine smile. He tapped his beer bottle against mine. “If we’re doing this, let’s stick to first names. It makes it sound less like we’re on the ice. Less like—”
“Rivals,” Clayton interjected. No, Neo.
“Okay. Yeah.” I rubbed my hand across my mouth. They were right. This rivalry was getting out of hand, and I’d come over here to make an effort, hadn’t I? I cleared my throat. “Neo. Toby. Can I introduce you to some of Whelford’s hottest single women, who happen to be into hockey players?”
Toby’s eyes lit up. “I knew there was a reason you were our favourite Flames player. Shit, don’t tell Arson.”
At the reminder of Daniel’s juvenile nickname, my fists clenched, but I kept the smile pasted on my face. “That’s all for show,” I said, lying through my teeth. “I don’t have a problem with him off the ice.”
They both gave me disbelieving looks, but thankfully dropped the subject and followed me over to where Kimberly Bridges was holding court. A quick introduction from me, and they were swarmed by yet more women. My job here was done.
Now, I could concentrate on my usual mission at a party. Drink and fuck. And if I were lucky, I’d forget all about the presence of the one person I hated beyond all others.