14. Dan
DAN
I groaned, tipping my head back against the wall in the smoking room at Thorpe Manor, alone in a shadowy corner while everyone else celebrated around me.
Today should have been a celebration for me, too.
After an enforced couple of days of bed rest, during which I’d missed out on ice time with my team, and my best friend’s interrogation of the guy that had been captured after my skull had been introduced to a rock, I’d been able to get back in on the action.
After the game I’d missed, I’d gone to Thorpe Manor to meet Jay and Ryker, and had immediately been sucked into a complete shitstorm of drama.
It turned out that the guys we’d fought at the river hadn’t been part of Operation Foxglove.
They were connected with the Volkovs, but not in the way we thought.
Anton Volkov’s uncle had been the culprit.
He’d plotted a whole secret takeover of the Volkov Syndicate, and kidnapped Nova as part of his nefarious plan.
Thank fuck we’d been able to track her, and I’d managed to take out my frustrations on one of his henchmen while the others found Nova and captured Anton’s uncle.
They’d finished tying up the loose ends today, and I’d gained a new respect for the Cranham Kings’ goalie.
Anton had used what had happened as leverage to broker a new deal between the Thorpes and the Volkovs, resulting in the dissolution of his engagement to Nova, which meant she was free to be with Jay.
Now here we were, doing some celebratory crime organisation bonding shit with the Thorpes and Volkovs, and I’d never felt less like celebrating. Not while I still had my own loose ends to tie up.
I dug my phone out of my pocket. I needed to plan, and that meant I couldn’t delay checking out a certain tattooed, hockey-playing bane of my existence’s socials any longer.
My mouth fell open, a gasp tearing from my throat as I swiped frantically through my accounts.
That absolute fucking asshole. He’d blocked me. Everywhere.
There was a stupid lump in my throat as I stared down at my screen, my head pounding.
What had I done to deserve him blocking me?
Yeah, he’d probably been shaken by what had happened, like I was, but actually blocking me?
I felt like I’d been suddenly cut off from an oxygen tank I hadn’t even known was sustaining me.
Then I remembered something else. He’d pulled a knife on me in that fight.
Granted, it was a pathetic, minuscule excuse for a knife that would have barely been able to scratch me, but even so.
Yeah, I already knew he hated me, just like I hated him.
But right up until that point, I hadn’t really realised just how deep that hate ran.
My jaw clenched. Good fucking riddance. No more passing notes. No more having to stalk social media for clues. No more unwanted trips to Whelford Uni.
I swallowed, swiping at my eyes as my head throbbed even harder.
No more Lincoln Bellingham.
Or at least, not until I’d tied up my final loose ends. One more thing, then I could be free of him.
Straightening up, I strode outside, detouring to grab my jacket from the coat stand.
It was too smoky and too crowded in here, and my headache was getting worse.
There was still a noticeable lump on my head, accompanied by this throbbing pain.
The altercation I’d had with the Bratva henchman had probably exacerbated it.
Leaning back against the wall, I sucked in a breath of fresh, chilled air, alone with my thoughts for the first time today. My most pressing issue was Operation Foxglove. Jay’s family had been through enough, and I knew Jay was still worried.
It was up to me to ensure there was no heat on the Attwoods. That meant going to the person who’d blocked me like I was irrelevant to him. I needed to make sure he knew that there would be consequences for digging. Serious consequences.
Before I could make my move, Jay stepped onto the terrace, leaning back against the wall like I was. I glanced over at him. “Everything okay, mate?”
He rolled his head to the side, meeting my gaze. “Yeah. But are you? Where are you going?”
“It’s cold.” I blew out a heavy breath, a cloud of condensation appearing in the air. “See?”
“It’s not that cold. I’m not wearing a coat, and I’m okay.”
“Yeah, but your hoodie’s thick.”
“Daniel.”
Well…it wouldn’t hurt to give him a hint about my plan. “Alright, fine. I’m going to tie up some loose ends, if you must know.”
He stared at me. “Loose ends?”
“Yeah. You know, in case Operation Foxglove decides they wanna investigate the clinic. I’m going to make sure they don’t.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I have my ways,” I said, then mimed zipping my lips shut. “Your family’s been through enough shit. You don’t need that stress on top of everything else.”
“Thanks, Dan.” Jay shot me a small, grateful smile, and I grimaced. My reasons weren’t entirely altruistic.
I scuffed the ground with the toe of my shoe. “Ah, uh, yeah. It’s for selfish reasons too, though. One goes down, we all go down. I’m not a saint or anything.”
“I know that. Still, thanks.”
“Yeah. I wonder if Bellingham will thank me when I’m through with him. I guess I’m gonna find out. See ya later, Banks.”
With that, I jogged away from the terrace.
It was time for a reckoning, and I couldn’t fucking wait.