Chapter 23
“You know, I really haven’t told anyone anything.
About anyone or anything that goes on here, or in Thunder Bay, or anywhere…
you know Teddy is my best friend, and other than that you’re up there these days, big guy.
My parents and I aren’t close, and I don’t have any siblings or cousins or anything.
The team group chat has been full of pictures of beaches and babies, and I haven’t contributed except to just like what the other guys send—”
“Thatcher.” Misha stops abruptly in front of the massive structure that’s the cause of my rambling.
I can’t think of a single reason he’d want to off me, but if this is the structure I’m thinking of…
the guys call it “the barn,” and it’s apparently where all the torture happens.
Or at least a lot of the torture and “target elimination.”
None of the men talk about missions in detail when I’m around, and I’m not a part of any of the more specialized training they undertake.
We’ve all bonded over blood, sweat, and tears in the gym, and I’d considered more than a few of them my friends, but I don’t have the security clearance to know the ins and outs of the operation.
Which is fine. I haven’t heard any of the truly gory details from Teddy about what he does off the ice these days, and I don’t need to know about Mila’s and Misha’s day jobs either.
“I’m sorry. Whatever it is, I didn’t mean to. Please don’t kill me—”
“Kill you? Is that why you’re blabbering away a mile a minute? You think I brought you out here to kill you?”
His confusion seems genuine, and I’d like to think Misha is a good guy who would shoot straight with me at this point and not toy with me. “Uh, yeah. I thought this building must be the barn. Since it’s out here away from the house, and I’ve never seen it before.”
A heavy moment passes as he closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and mutters to himself in Russian. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to kill me. But then why…
“If I were going to kill you, Thatcher Prescott…I would never just walk you out here…never mind. No, I’m not going to kill you. It’s good to know that you’re so loyal, though. We never doubted you.”
“So this isn’t the barn?”
“This isn’t the barn. I guess technically it’s a different kind of barn, but you have no need to know where the barn is or to access it, so don’t worry about that.
You’ll likely never see it, regardless of how long you spend here.
I’m actually only delivering you. I’m not staying.
Although I can’t wait to tell everyone that you almost pissed yourself thinking I was going to kill you, Gospodi! ”
Still cursing, I assume, under his breath, he points at a steel door in the side of the structure and then stalks off toward the house, leaving me among the trees and without any more of a clue while I’m here.
At least I’m not being killed. The door creaks open, and the cold, clean, unmistakable feeling of fresh ice hits me all at once as I step inside.
It’s a full-size rink, lined and ready for play. The logo at center ice is one I don’t recognize: two back-to-back “B”s…maybe that’s a Bratva thing. A small section of bleachers and two benches make it fancier than some beer league arenas already. I can’t imagine what this is doing out here.
“Surprise.”
“Aaheep!” My high-pitched squeal is involuntary, and echoes through the building as Mila laughs. She’s got her hands full, with a big Santa Claus-esque bag slung over one shoulder and two hockey sticks in her other hand.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I assumed you heard me coming.”
“I was preoccupied trying to figure out what the hell this rink is doing in the middle of the woods behind your house. Especially when you told me I couldn’t put in a rink…Wait. Did you do this for me?” Does she feel something as remotely as monumental for me as what I think I feel for her?
She gestures to one of the benches and plops her bag down before pulling out skates, pucks, helmets, and drill cones.
“I can’t say that I did, although that would have been quite the gesture.
The timing just happened to work out. This building and the ice infrastructure were already here because Ivan’s children used to skate when they were younger.
Once they left the property, the ice was drained, but it was well maintained.
It took a little plumbing work to have everything ready to go, but the refrigeration system was in good shape.
Teddy suggested bringing the rink back online as another way for the men to bond and train. ”
“Wow. I had no idea this was back here or that you were working on it.” That’s how easy it is for her to keep secrets from me…damn.
“Well, like I said. Surprise! I was hoping you’d be willing to help me christen the ice. Nobody’s been on it yet since completion.”
She thrusts a pair of skates into my hands and rolls her eyes when I raise my eyebrows at her choice of words. “Are these my skates?”
“I had someone send them from New York. You left them in the Phantoms locker room at the end of the season. So what do you say? Want to run some drills?”
Two hours later, Mila shows no signs of slowing down.
She wouldn’t brag about being a strong skater without being able to back it up.
That’s just not who she is. But watching her speed around the ice with wild abandon, shrieking like a child whenever I beat her in a one-on-one skills challenge or feinted at the last moment to lead her straight into the boards…
this is the most free I’ve ever seen her.
For the first time, I’m able to imagine a tiny Mila, unburdened by the prospect of a legacy, just zooming around and having fun.
“Okay, I’m man enough to admit I need a break. There’s no way your quads aren’t on fire, too. Please? Just a short one.”
She tosses me an electrolyte bottle and sits down heavily beside me on the bench. “My quads are fine, thanks. My stairmaster routine makes Misha’s look like a walk in the park. You know my stamina isn’t a problem. But we can take a rest if you need one to perform.”
Her cheeky wink does nothing to quell the desire already burning at her tease, and she’s damn right.
I know exactly how strong her quads are.
She can ride me for hours without complaining, and since I never have my hands for leverage, she has to do almost all the work most of the time.
It was an adjustment at first, and the urge to let her relax and pillow princess for a while still pops up now and then.
But she gets what she wants, and if what she wants is me on my back, well…
“You’re an exceptional skater. I know this isn’t news to you, since you’re a professional and the captain of your team. But it’s a bitch trying to keep up with you on the ice.”
I do know that, but hearing it from her is better than any compliment any coach has ever given me.
Impressing people has never been the only reason I skate, but it would be a lie to deny that a good portion of my self-worth has always been tied up in my on-ice success.
A lifetime of having to find unique avenues of gaining love and affection will do that to you.
The love and affection I’ve won may have come with challenges, like people who are only interested in you for fame, money, or your connections, but it’s been enough to get me by. Until now.
“Thank you. We don’t have to compete, you know. We could work together. Maybe try some ice dancing? I’d let you lead.”
“You don’t let me do anything, Thatcher Prescott,” she huffs, but I can see the amusement she’s hiding. “We can, however, try some duo drills next, if you’d like. I wouldn’t mind you critiquing my edge work, too. It’s always been my weakness, even when I was younger.”
“Did Misha skate with you? In Russia?”
As always, the mention of her birth country darkens her mood, just a hair. It’s a calculated risk to see if I can learn anything new about her today, and one I’ve learned the hard way isn’t always worth it. Now, I’m apparently lucky enough to piggyback off her childlike joy, and she indulges me.
“He absolutely did not.” She cackles, blue eyes shining at the memory. “He was always athletic, but something about being on ice never clicked for him at all. Did he not seem grumpy bringing you out here? Weren’t you surprised he didn’t come inside?”
“I figured he knew you wanted to get me alone.” Her exasperation fuels me, as always, and I delight in watching her fight another laugh. “I also suspected for a decent portion of the walk that he was bringing me out here to kill me.”
“What? Why?” Now her gaze is suspicious, though no less beautiful. “What have you done?”
“Nothing, really! I just thought this was the barn all the guys talk about.”
“You shouldn’t even know the barn exists.” She sighs, standing from the bench to stretch and lean against the boards. “It isn’t your burden to bear.”
Her tone is quiet and final, but I can’t help trying to wheedle my way into her heart a tiny bit more.
“I’d still like to share it.” My voice is barely more than a whisper, and for a while, the low hum of the refrigeration system is our only companion. She hops back down onto the ice, tired of talking for now.
That’s okay.
I’ll be right here when she’s ready for more.