46. Dan
DAN
“You gonna be okay?”
I glanced up at my captain from my position on the benches. “Yeah. I can do this.”
It would be the first time I’d seen Lincoln since that night. The night I’d broken what was left of my heart, and maybe even his. It was going to take everything I had to get through this game, knowing that he was no longer mine.
Ryker sank down next to me, knocking his knee against mine. “Alright. I’ll take your word for it, but if you need to change your mind, you can.”
“Thanks.” I shot him a quick smile. My face felt weird. I hadn’t had much to smile about lately.
“Arson? This came for you this morning. I forgot to give it to you, sorry.” Toby appeared in front of me, waving a bubble mailer in my face. It was red.
“Uh…thanks. Any reason you couldn’t have given it to me later?”
“I didn’t want to forget again.” He thrust the package at me and disappeared to the other side of the locker room.
“What the fuck?” I muttered to myself, ripping open the package and pulling out the contents.
My mouth fell open as I stared down at the clear bag in my hands. A bag that was filled to the brim with red Haribo gummy bears, with a Post-it note attached.
For Ganon x
Ryker’s brows rose. “Ganon?”
“Yeah.” My face was doing that weird movement again.
Smiling. Widely. I climbed to my feet, grabbing my phone.
The past two weeks had been absolute fucking agony without Lincoln in my life, the emptiness inside a constant ache that could never be filled.
Two weeks of second-guessing myself and wanting nothing more than to make him mine again.
Eventually, I’d given in and reactivated my accounts and unblocked him, so I could at least stalk his social media and torture myself with everything I’d lost. I’d drafted so many messages to him, all unsent, and I’d refused to read the countless messages he’d left me.
The only sliver of light in the darkness had come from Neil.
He’d told me that maybe there was more to the situation, and after Operation Foxglove had wrapped up, we’d be able to talk and get to the bottom of it all.
He was probably just trying to make me feel better, and maybe I’d been deluding myself in wanting to believe him, but his words had been the thread of hope I was still desperately hanging on to.
What if there was an explanation for what Lincoln had done?
Steeling myself, I scrolled to our social media message thread. Bypassing the slew of unread notifications, I tapped out my first message to him since everything had fallen apart.
@danhfirestarter:
ganon?
A reply came through so quickly, he must’ve been holding his phone in his hands.
@linkb_flames:
you got my gift then
@danhfirestarter:
wellsy just gave it to me. red haribo?
@linkb_flames:
i know you have 6 every game day. there’s enough in there to cover the rest of the season plus playoffs
I sniffed, biting down on my lip as warmth spread through my body.
@danhfirestarter:
it must’ve taken a long time to sort all the red ones out
@linkb_flames:
i got tilly to help me although she spent more time eating than helping. she did tell me to ask you if you appreciated her help
@danhfirestarter:
recruiting your little cousin to your cause? playing dirty bellingham
@linkb_flames:
i need all the help i can get. i miss you
Three words. Three words that lit me up inside.
@linkb_flames:
i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that
good luck today
@danhfirestarter:
you too and i miss you too you bastard
“Fuck him,” I muttered to myself, still grinning. Next to me, Ryker sighed heavily.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Nope. Not a clue.”
The doors to the rink opened, and I was immediately hit by a wall of noise.
Goosebumps popped all over my skin, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
It wasn’t only the electric atmosphere, the fact that this was the Cranham Kings versus the Whelford Flames, and this time, we were the home team.
It was also the fact that the stands were packed, not only with fans, but with a large percentage of the local underworld.
Honestly, though? All that paled in comparison to the fact that I was about to come face-to-face with Lincoln for the first time since our showdown.
We spilled onto the ice, and my gaze swept the stands, avoiding the other end of the rink, where the Flames were warming up. Jay’s girlfriend, Nova, was seated right behind the player benches, next to Liana and their other bestie, Vesper, and I lifted my hand in a wave.
Above them, in what we called the VIP seating—although it wasn’t officially designated that way—was a who’s who of crime lords. Graham Thorpe and his wife, Elizabeth. The Volkovs. Neil, my mum, and my cousin, Stephen. Jay’s parents and sister.
Sid was back at the house, keeping an eye on things, the Thorpes had left their right-hand man in charge, and the Volkovs had ironclad security at their compound.
The Operation Foxglove three-counties raid was happening tonight, after months of investigation, and this was a public display, a show that, as far as we were concerned, we had nothing to hide.
“My parents never come to my games,” Ryker muttered, skating up alongside me. “This is fucking weird.”
Jay appeared on my other side. “Yeah, no pressure. We’re just being watched by all the local crime organisations.”
“There is no more pressure than usual.” Anton Volkov clapped Jay’s shoulders. “We will beat the Whelford Flames. I will stop them from scoring. And you will concentrate on getting the puck into the net. Like we practised, Attwood.”
“Shutout, baby!” I held my fist out, and Anton bumped it.
“Okay. Come on. Warm up,” Ryker instructed.
“Yes, Cap.” I saluted him before skating into position to begin my warm-up drills.
I turned, unable to keep my gaze from our opponents any longer…
and my eyes connected with Lincoln’s hazel ones across the ice.
My heart jolted. He was watching me warily, but I couldn’t help it—a smile tugged at my lips, widening as we held each other’s gaze.
After a moment, his mouth tentatively curved upwards, and my entire body came alive.
Everything was brighter, clearer, and I could finally breathe.
“Hoyton! You’re not a statue! Move!” Coach boomed, and I tore my gaze away.
Despite knowing what tonight meant for Operation Foxglove, for my family and friends, and for my team, my smile remained.
First line change of the third period, and we were winning 2-0. The Flames seemed out of sorts today, or maybe the Kings were just extra motivated because of our VIP guests.
I threw myself onto the bench, my gaze fixed on the action in the rink as I tipped my bottle to my lips, swishing water around my dry mouth.
“Hoyts.”
“Yeah?” Lowering the bottle, I turned to see Neo jerking his head towards the other end of the rink.
I followed his gaze, finding Lincoln watching me with a troubled expression.
Telepathic skills would come in handy right now because I couldn’t risk talking to him, not with so many eyes on us.
I kept watching him, and he subtly inclined his head.
Alarm bells blared in my ears.
Harold and Cressida Bellingham were here. That in itself wasn’t cause for alarm, but the sight of the man next to Harold was very fucking alarming indeed.
The man who had been at my hockey games. The man I’d thought was a detective.
The man who came back from the dead.
Frank Culverhouse.
Fuck.
Twisting on the bench, I subtly tapped my fist on the glass, trying not to draw attention to myself. Liana’s gaze immediately shot to mine, and I did my best to communicate silently. Neil, I mouthed. Bellingham. Emergency.
Her brows pulled together.
“Hoyton! What do you think you are doing?”
Oh, shit. “Uh, sorry, Coach.” I wasn’t trying to flirt with your daughter, I promise. I was trying to communicate an urgent message.
“Don’t even think about looking at my daughter,” he warned, and I glanced over at Kane, flying down the ice with the puck. It wasn’t me that Coach needed to worry about.
“I wasn’t.”
“Good.” He stomped off to the other end of the benches to speak to Ryker, and I quickly glanced up at my family.
Liana, the wonderful, amazing human being, was making her way through the stands to Neil.
She dipped her head, speaking quietly, and Neil’s gaze shot straight to mine before sliding to the Bellinghams.
His face remained impassive, but I noticed the slight flare of his nostrils when he caught sight of Frank Culverhouse. He immediately returned his gaze to the ice, resting his arms casually on his thighs, but I knew he’d be calculating the situation and hopefully coming up with a plan.
At the next line change, I swept past Ryker and Jay, speaking low and fast. “Culverhouse is here.”
I didn’t have time to wait around for their reactions because we still had the rest of the third period to play, and we needed to hold the line.
And that included putting on the performance of my life for Harold Bellingham, because I couldn’t risk him even catching a hint that there was anything other than mutual loathing between me and his son.
Up until this point, I hadn’t been as aggressive as I normally would be with Lincoln, not trusting my own reactions around him, but now I deliberately glided into his line of sight, goading him.
It was fucking fun, antagonising my favourite rival.
“I thought the defence was meant to defend. Yet here we are with three goals, and how many do the Flames have? Zero.”
Lincoln’s lip curled, his eyes sparkling. “You better shut your mouth, Hoyton, before I shut it for you.”
I smirked. “Fucking try it. I dare you.” Deking around him, I sailed past the Whelford player desperately trying to reach me. Jay sent the puck towards me in a perfectly timed move, and my stick connected with it, slapping it straight into the net.
Fist-pumping the air, I grinned at the crowd before catching Lincoln’s eye as I circled the goal, giving him the middle finger.
He gave me a look that promised retribution, and I couldn’t wait.
I cocked my head, and two seconds later, a large body was barrelling into me, slamming me up against the boards.
I fucking loved his violence, and although the layers of padding between us stopped me from feeling the full deliciousness of him, his body against mine was everything, hot, sweaty, and sexy as fuck. I’d missed him so much.
But as much as I wanted to hold on to this moment, I couldn’t. Twisting out of his hold, I shoved him back into the boards and skated away.
The rest of the game was a blur of the puck cracking against sticks, the whoosh of skates flying across the ice, and the shouts and harsh breaths of the players.
We didn’t score again, but neither did Whelford, and when the final buzzer sounded, the rest of the Kings spilled onto the ice, jubilant that we’d managed to pull off a 4-0 win against our most hated rivals.
That was when the seriousness of the situation hit me all over again.
I scanned the stands to find that the Thorpes, Volkovs, and Attwoods had either left or were hurrying to leave.
The Bellinghams were long gone, but a lone figure paced the emptying stands.
Culverhouse. My jaw tightened as he was joined by two other hooded figures dressed in black, and as my gaze lifted, I spotted more dark figures slipping into the rink.
“I don’t like this. I already know what you’re gonna say, but do you want backup? I don’t want you to have to deal with this shit alone,” Ryker said in a low voice as we left the ice.
I met my uncle’s gaze, taking in his resolute expression, and shook my head.
“Thanks, but no. This is a Hoyton reckoning. We’ve got this.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. One hundred percent sure. Neil wouldn’t want other people getting involved in our shit, especially with all the raids happening tonight.
It’s best that you lay low until everything blows over.
” I paused. “Actually, Ry, can you do me a favour? Get Lincoln far away from here. Please. I don’t want him caught up in any of this. ”
His brows flew up. “What, you want me to kidnap him or something?”
“If that’s what it takes. Just make sure he leaves. This isn’t gonna be pretty, and I don’t want to be worrying about him when it’s time to teach Culverhouse a fucking lesson.”
“Alright,” he said. “Consider it done. Look, I know you don’t want my help, but can I give you some advice?”
“Yeah, course. What’re you thinking?”
He leaned into me, speaking low. “Aim to take them out with minimal damage. This is a public setting, and the culmination of Operation Foxglove is going down tonight. We can’t rule anything out.
I know Sergeant Bellingham has spoken to Neil, but can you trust his word?
How do we know this isn’t part of a bigger plot to take us all down? ”
“Neil trusts Mike, and I trust Neil,” I said slowly. “But you’re right. Okay. I’ll take precautions. Do this old school, using these bad boys.” I lifted my hands, and Ryker snorted. He tapped my stick with his.
“You can take them. Easy.”
“I know I can.” I shot him a grin. “Time to go and fuck some criminals up.”