Chapter 4 #2
“Ah, it’s at eight in the morning. I’ll spend most of the day there, and then come crash for a nap before the coach breaks us out into smaller groups to work on any bad habits we may have picked up.”
We’ve watched a lot of Troy’s games on the television over the years.
We can pick out when he’s got shit on his mind, because his reaction time gets slower.
The last couple of years in particular, I’ve noticed how he tries to compensate for this by becoming more aggressive on the ice.
The more hits, the sharper he gets over the course of the game.
It’s not the healthiest way of coping, but it’s no different from the person who runs to get out of their head or the boxer who uses their fists to handle their emotions.
“Don’t forget to text me or I’ll call your coach,” Silas threatens.
“Silas,” Troy gasps. “Come on, that man is a fucking psychopath. He’s definitely going to ask us if we left jizz on the ice.”
I can’t help the laughter sputtering from my lips that quickly turns into a cough. Easton bangs on my back with too much enthusiasm, while Silas smiles angelically.
“We don’t fuck on the first date,” he says sweetly. “I am definitely willing to play dirty to get you to take care of yourself though.”
“I can see that. Alright. Good night, I guess.”
Eh, that’s not going to fly for me. Walking toward him, I fist his shirt, dragging my nose up his throat. He’s only slightly taller than I am, and he groans as my tongue joins the party to taste the salt on his skin.
Troy tastes like tequila, and it settles nicely on my tongue as my nostrils flare.
“That’s a weak fucking goodbye,” I growl, biting his bottom lip before I begin sucking on it. His groan tells me exactly how much I’m affecting him, and his erection pressed against mine is the cherry on my sundae.
He wants us. If he needs a little push, I’ll happily give him it. I’ve kept myself tightly locked up the entire time we’ve hung out today, and the ropes are beginning to fray.
I let my lips explore him a little more, and Troy greedily kisses me back. Fuck, he does want me. Now, we need to figure out how to help him out of his funk. We will happily meddle because that’s what we do. Hopefully, he doesn’t get too upset about it.
When I pull back, his pupils are blown and he’s breathing hard.
“I don’t think I can survive three good nights if they’re all like this,” he breathes.
“Some of us have more restraint than others,” Silas murmurs. “At least now, you have an idea of how intense we can be.”
“This is nothing, Silas,” Easton grunts. “Don’t downplay how much we want him.”
“Good night,” I say, my voice rough and full of desire. “Don’t spend too much time doom scrolling tonight.”
I open my hand and drag it down his chest, feeling his cock twitch from how close I’m standing.
“Fuck, Lyle,” Troy whispers.
“Soon,” I say, my lips curving up as I step back. There are a thousand things I want to say as he takes a shaky breath and walks away. My cock is throbbing, and I hate how every step he takes is one that isn’t toward our home.
“That went well,” Silas drawls, pulling a chuckle from me.
“Well enough. Fuck, he tastes amazing, Silas,” I groan.
“Don’t rub it in.” His fingers fists in my hair before he kisses me hard, his tongue dragging along my lips and tongue in search of a hint of what Troy tastes like. “Hmm. Tequila. That’s interesting. That’s not what he smells like.”
“It’s more like sunshine,” Easton admits. “When he’s sad, there’s a tinge of rain in his scent.”
“We’re officially stalking him, huh?” Silas asks, moving his hand to mine to tug me into walking. It’s just as well, my instincts are hating that Troy lives here. Silas’ jaw is tight as he grinds his teeth, telling me I’m not alone in my feelings.
“Yep.”
I walk with them even as I want to look behind me but Silas shakes his head.
“He’s inside. I watched him walk through the front door,” he mutters. “I’ll brow beat whoever is in charge of his building into replacing the broken lock too. It’s unacceptable that the first line of defense to the building doesn’t fucking work.”
“I’m sending you tomorrow with a couple of video cameras to install at his apartment door,” Easton says. “If you feel compelled to put them in other places, I’ll look the other way.”
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “Very smooth,” I chuckle. “You’re going to end up cleaning his apartment, aren’t you, Silas?”
“You fucking know I will. We’ve seen the place he was in while he lived in New Orleans. He shared it with a roommate, but it always looked nice,” he says.
Troy may be a loner now, however, that wasn’t always the case. He’d hang out with his team in his down time, and he split a condo with one of them because he didn’t want to live alone. It also made the most sense for players with a family residing in another state.
“He’s not the same anymore,” Easton sighs. “This funk has lasted long enough. I’m done sitting on the sidelines watching him struggle.”
“Me too,” Silas and I say together.
Passing underneath a street lamp that’s flickering, I growl in frustration. I typically am able to bottle up my thoughts, but this simply reinstates Easton’s earlier comment that this neighborhood isn’t great for a professional hockey player to live in.
“I think a slow infiltration is necessary,” I decide. “Food drops, dates, flower deliveries.”
“That’s not slow,” Easton laughs. Someone kicks a can beside me and my head jerks in the direction of the alley. My blood pressure rises slightly and my pack notices the change in me immediately.
We aren’t hotheads, but Easton’s hand still touches his gun at the small of his back as I step in the direction of the alley.
“Hello?” I call out. We are a block away from Troy’s apartment and two away from our car. I feel uneasy, but it would make sense if someone is living here. “Do you need help?”
I blink into the darkness, frowning as I see a stream of dark hair run further down the alley. Shit. I scared her. We aren’t anywhere near downtown, which is probably better for whoever that was squatting in the alley.
Sighing in disappointment, I step back into the safety of my pack.
“I heard the shelters are turning away people,” Easton says softly.
“Isn’t this the opposite of what a shelter does?” I ask.
“Only when they’re full typically. They're turning omegas and female alphas away with prejudice,” Easton explains, beginning to walk again.
It’s difficult for me to tear myself away, but he’s right.
There’s nothing we can do here. “The officers are starting to whisper that the police commissioner has asked that they only take males. Apparently he says that the men are more likely to get into trouble and therefore they need the shelter more.”
“They’re throwing these people into the hands of auction madams like Clara,” Silas says, aghast. It doesn’t matter that she’s dead. More like her will crawl out of their holes once they see an opportunity to make money. “Fuck me. It’s hard to believe this isn’t the plan, Easton.”
Troy’s nickname for Easton trickles through my mind and I hold tightly to the way this makes me feel. I hate the people who are currently in power. The only reason I haven’t decided to run against them is because it would place a spotlight on my pack and the illegal activities we’re involved in.
“Something has got to give. Cassidy is still all fucked up from everything that was done to her, and with good reason. Trauma doesn’t have a timetable, which is why I do think Troy should speak to someone who can be discreet.
” This reminds me of Troy’s awful previous experience with a therapist and I snarl.
“Easton, I need the name of Troy’s previous therapist, please. I have a life to ruin.”
“I was just thinking about that,” he admits. “We can’t directly start meddling in his affairs too much or he’ll bolt on us. The last thing we want is for him to ask to be traded to get away from our pack. Everything else I feel is fair game.”
“Agreed. Shh, yes I’m green lighting anything you want within reason. I trust that we aren’t going to do anything to hurt him. It’s not our style either. We’ve been obsessed with Troy for years. We can keep playing the long game with some extra flair, yeah?”
“I love flair,” Silas grins.
“I know you do, babe. Have fun. Let’s remind Troy what it’s like when people not only give a shit, but they also court the fuck out of you.”
“Tonight was about making sure he felt the same way we do,” Easton rumbles, pulling out his keys as we enter the parking lot. “Your lips are still swollen, Lyle. I’m pretty sure he knows where we stand.”
“Game fucking on,” I grin. God do I love a challenge.