The Swede

by Maureen Smith

  He released another gravelly chuckle. “I’ll see what we can do.”

  She laughed as she laced and unlaced their fingers, marveling at how much longer and broader his were. “We’re expecting a really nice turnout. My family’s coming, Seth is bringing some friends, and the guys invited most of their neighbors. By the way,” she added warmly, “they really love their new neighborhood. With all those young people and hipsters and artists, it couldn’t be more perfect for them.” She tilted her head back to smile at Viggo. “That’s why you chose that house, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, rubbing slow circles on her back with his other hand.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.”

  A crooked little smile curved his lips. “You don’t have to keep thanking me, Scarlett. You’re not indebted to me.”

  “But—”

  “Like I told you before, I’m a huge fan of Off The Grid and I want you guys to keep putting out great music. I just did my part to help the cause.” His tone softened. “I’m sorry everything got so fucked up and complicated. I just hope we can put that whole misunderstanding behind us and move on.”

  Her heart melted with gratitude. “I have so moved on.”

  “Same.” His eyes glinted at her. “Seth kept me updated on everything. I’m really proud of you guys for completing the album. I can’t wait to hear it.”

  Scarlett beamed. “Once Seth and his engineers finish working their magic, we’ll have a private listening party for you and my family.”

  “Awesome.” Viggo lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers, watching her lips part as her breath quickened. “I just remembered we have the GQ interview tomorrow morning.”

  “Holy crap,” she exclaimed. “I totally forgot!”

  “So did I.”

  “The editor’s coming here, right?”

  “Yeah. At eleven. Does that work for you?”

  “Yeah.” She grinned. “I’m just glad we kissed and made up before the interview.”

  “Me, too,” Viggo murmured, still nuzzling her fingers. “After the interview, let’s go pick up your stuff and bring it back home.”

  She smiled, warm pleasure curling through her. “Don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “Too much time has already been wasted.”

  “Agreed.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Sorry about the guys trying to fight you.”

  He snorted. “Are you kidding? I woulda kicked their asses if they hadn’t tried to protect you.”

  She laughed. “Save all that aggression for Friday’s game against Tampa Bay.” When he grunted at the reminder, she gave him a ruthless little smile. “On behalf of all Denver Rebels fans, I want you to demolish Jöran Axelsson and send that motherfucker crying back to Florida. You feel me?”

  Viggo smiled darkly. “Aye, milady.”

  “Ooh, milady. I like that.” She grinned.

  He brushed his lips over her hand, chuckling when she batted her lashes at him.

  Sobering after several moments, she unlaced their fingers and gently cupped his cheek, her eyes probing his for a long moment.

  “What happened between you and your grandfather?” she asked quietly.

  His expression instantly darkened, jaw clenching. “It’s a long story.”

  “I’d like to hear it.” She didn’t want to cause him any pain, but it hurt that he was keeping such a big part of himself from her. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been estranged from him for six years?”

  “Because talking about it is painful. When I’m with you I feel untouchable. Invincible. Like nothing and no one can ever hurt me again.” He tightened his arm around her. “I’m trying to hold on to that feeling for as long as I possibly can.”

  Scarlett studied the deep shadows in his eyes, her heart twisting with compassion. Whatever had happened in the past must have been devastating. She knew it would be hard to hear and even harder to stomach. But she was ready to listen. Ready to comfort him. Ready to help make him whole.

  His broad chest expanded on a deep breath. “I’ll tell you everything after the game on Friday, I promise. Until then I just wanna hold you and savor you the way I’ve been dying to for weeks.”

  She slid her fingers around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing and nuzzling him softly, breathing him in.

  “I love you,” she whispered. It felt so good to say the words to him, not just in the secret chambers of her heart. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too.” Angling himself over her, he eased her onto her back and gazed down at her with adoring eyes. “One more hour.”

  Her heart squeezed at the memory of their time together in Buffalo. One more day, he’d asked her on Christmas morning. Let’s stay one more day.

  She’d refused him before. No way was she refusing him now.

  Giving him a seductive smile, she curved her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist. “One more hour.”

  With his eyes steady on hers, he entered her slowly, penetrating her slick walls as easily as he’d penetrated and stolen her heart.

  Chapter 38

  Scarlett

  Battle of The Swedes

  * * *

  “Oh my goodness. Look at my baby!”

  Scarlett grinned as her mother ran an approving gaze over her, inspecting her from head to toe. She wore a black curve-hugging Dolce & Gabbana dress with a deep V-neck and a thin gold belt at the waist—gotta rep those Rebels colors. Her makeup was natural and glowing, her lips glossy and plump. One side of her curly hair hung over her eye while the other side was pinned back with a glittery hair comb. Gold chandelier earrings dangled from her lobes, and on her feet were strappy black Louboutins.

  “You look so gorgeous!” her mother gushed, clapping her hands excitedly. “I love the way you pulled the whole look together!”

  “Thanks, Ma.” Scarlett gave her a wry grin. “At the risk of sounding ungrateful, you really didn’t have to buy me a new outfit for tonight.”

  “Of course I did. You’re singing the national anthem before eighteen thousand people and who knows how many others watching from home. I wanted you to look your best, and I couldn’t take a chance on you showing up in ripped jeans or leather pants.” She smiled smugly. “And need I remind you that Viggo likes the way I dress you?”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. The woman was incorrigible.

  “I’ve already got your outfit picked out for next time—”

  “There probably won’t be a next time, Ma.”

  “Why not?”

  “The Rebels already have a regular anthem singer,” Scarlett reminded her. “I’m just filling in for the guy because he had a scheduling conflict tonight.”

  Her mother pouted. “You should be singing at their home games. You sound better.”

  Scarlett chuckled. “Of course you’d say that. You’re my mom. Anyway, I’m on tour half the season, so I couldn’t be their anthem singer even if they offered.”

  Her mom pouted some more.

  They were standing in the underbelly of the Pepsi Arena waiting for Scarlett to be escorted to the ice. After the two teams were introduced, she would take center stage to sing the national anthem.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “A little,” Scarlett admitted. “It’s a much bigger crowd than I’m used to.”

  “Don’t be nervous. You were born for this.” Her mother gave her a warm smile. “All the Hampton folks send their love and best wishes. They’re having a big viewing party at Uncle Ralph’s house. It’ll be the first time most of them have ever watched a hockey game, but they’re very curious about Viggo and they can’t wait to see you on television. Your great-granddaddy is so proud. He’s been telling everyone he knows that you’re going to be singing the national anthem on TV.”

  This gave Scarlett all the warm fuzzies. “Aww, Pop Pop.”

  Her mother grinned. “You know you’ve always been his favorite great-granddaughter,
just like I’m his favorite granddaughter.” She winked. “But don’t tell any of your aunts. You know how jealous they get.”

  Scarlett laughed.

  “Anyway, Pop Pop invited all of his old navy comrades to the viewing party. They’re so excited to see you sing. I know you’ll make them proud.”

  Scarlett gulped. “Okay, now I’m nervous.”

  Her mom laughed.

  An arena staffer bustled past, touching Scarlett’s shoulder. “Just a few more minutes.”

  “Great, thanks,” Scarlett said with a smile.

  Her mother glanced over her shoulder. “Here comes my escort to take me back to my seat.” She turned and beamed at Scarlett. “Wasn’t it nice of Mr. Landrieu to invite us to join him in the owner’s box?”

  “Sure.” Scarlett sighed. “But I would have preferred to sit in the stands, close to the action.”

  “You can’t sit in the stands wearing Dolce & Gabbana. What if some rowdy fan spills beer on you?”

  “Uh, dry cleaning?”

  Her mom looked toward the ceiling and clasped her hands in mock prayer. “Dear Lord, please bless me with a girly girl in the next life.”

  Scarlett laughed.

  Her mom gave her a big hug, kissed her cheek and grinned proudly. “Good luck, baby. We’ll be cheering you on from the owner’s box, so just look up if you get nervous.”

  Scarlett smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Ma. For everything.”

  Shortly after her mother left, Scarlett was escorted through the tunnel and out to home ice. The arena was packed to capacity. Bon Jovi’s “This Is Our House” filled the air as thousands of excited fans enjoyed the pregame entertainment. Between the flashing JumboTron screens and the 3D videos projected onto the ice, it was quite a dazzling spectacle.

  The energy inside the arena was absolutely electric, which was no surprise given that the media had been hyping this game for weeks. Capitalizing on the bitter rivalry between Viggo and Jöran, they’d dubbed it the “Battle of The Swedes.” Jöran’s trash talk—and Viggo’s refusal to engage—fueled the hype and grabbed the attention of non-hockey fans. Many were predicting that tonight’s matchup would be one of the most-watched regular-season hockey games in history.

  As Scarlett stood at the edge of the ice, Tampa Bay skated out to a hailstorm of boos and jeers. Relishing his role as villain, Jöran taunted the crowd by skating around with his arms up in the air like he’d just scored a goal. As more boos and slurs rained down on him, he threw back his head and laughed maniacally.

  The prick was relatively attractive, tall and sturdy with short dark hair and lips that appeared to be set in a permanent sneer. He was a good hockey player, though nowhere near as talented as Viggo.

  When he spotted Scarlett in the corner, he skated up to her and mimed jerking off, laughing when her face twisted in disgust. It was all she could do not to flip him the bird. She probably would have if her Pop Pop wasn’t watching. Her arena escort hissed at Jöran and threatened to have him ejected from the game.

  When it was time to introduce the Rebels, the arena was suddenly plunged into blackness. Thick clouds of smoke rose from the entrance to the tunnels. Out of the darkness, the ominous blare of a Viking horn seemed to herald the arrival of a shipload of battle-ready Norse warriors. The players’ names and faces began scrolling across the JumboTron as laser beams flashed around the arena, lighting up the crowd.

  Scarlett grinned as the air crackled and sizzled with electricity, raising the hair on the back of her neck.

  The crowd exploded into delirious screams when the Rebels came storming onto the ice to “If I Had a Heart” by Fever Ray, a Swedish artist. Ironically, it was the theme song for Vikings, the show Viggo comically refused to watch. It was an awesome song, really dark and atmospheric. It set the perfect tone for tonight’s grudge match between two Swedish adversaries.

  Scarlett was still mesmerized by the Rebels’ badass entrance when the spotlight suddenly shone on her. Before she knew it, the announcer was introducing her with such fanfare that she blushed with embarrassment.

  The crowd clapped, whistled and cheered enthusiastically as she took her spot on the Rebels’ logo and stepped up to the microphone. Butterflies flapped around in her stomach as she nervously looked out into the sea of expectant faces. When her eyes lifted toward the owner’s box, her family members and bandmates grinned reassuringly and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

  The two teams’ starting players were lined up on either side of the center ice faceoff circle. The Rebels were closest to Scarlett, facing her with their hands placed over their hearts. Reid, Logan, Hunter and Dmitri were grinning at her. Viggo had his game face on, watching her so intently that her nerves sizzled and danced under her skin.

  Wrapping her hands around the mic, she tuned out everyone and everything, opened her mouth and let the words flow, “Oh, say can you see...”

  The tone of her voice drew a swell of appreciative applause that helped calm her butterflies. She pictured her beloved great-grandfather watching her on television, his face glowing with pride. Then she closed her eyes and sang her heart out.

  As the last note rang out over the arena, the crowd erupted with thunderous applause and cheers as bursting fireworks lit up the JumboTron.

  Viggo was beaming with fierce pride, and his teammates and coaches had the biggest grins on their faces. Reid, Logan and Hunter pounded Viggo on the back and gave him Atta Boys, which had him grinning even harder.

  Reveling in the moment, Scarlett smiled radiantly and took a bow.

  When Viggo winked at her, she grinned and winked back.

  As she was being escorted past him, he reached out and caught her wrist in his hand. Shivering at his touch, she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, then whispered in his ear, “Show him no mercy.”

  He gave her a nod, his eyes glinting steel before he whispered back to her, “You are fucking amazing.”

  She beamed at him. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  He melted her with another wink.

  When she reached the owner’s box, everyone hugged her enthusiastically and raved about her performance. She even received glowing accolades from the team owner, the GM and the team president.

  Landrieu introduced her to his wife and their youngest son and daughter-in-law—a gorgeous twentysomething Japanese woman who hugged Scarlett and gushed that she was Off The Grid’s biggest fan. She took a selfie with them and tweeted it to her cousins back in Tokyo who had attended the band’s last show.

  Landrieu took Scarlett aside. “Your bandmates told me you guys are available to perform at an upcoming game before you go on tour. I also wanted to ask if you’d be willing to sing the national anthem at our home playoff games?”

  Scarlett was stunned and flattered by the unexpected offer. “Thank you, Mr. Landrieu. But what about—”

  Her mother swooped in, all smiles and batting lashes. “She would be honored, Mr. Landrieu.”

  “Wonderful!” Landrieu beamed his approval, then turned and snapped his fingers at a bustling server. “Bring our songbird some refreshments. Whatever she wants.”

  As he moved off, Scarlett’s mom hugged her and crowed gleefully, “I told you!”

  Scarlett felt a little dazed and overwhelmed.

  In all the frenzy, she hadn’t even noticed Audrey sitting in a corner of the suite with her mother. She was nursing a martini and glaring sullenly at Scarlett.

  Scarlett was totally over it. So she just nodded and smiled at Audrey. When Nadia waved her over, she went and took her seat in front of the glass window overlooking the arena. The seats were super plush and she could see everything on the humongous scoreboard. But she really hated being this far away from the ice, and from Viggo.

  After the server came to take her order, she slipped off her high heels and turned to Nadia beside her. “You got the goods?”

  “Yep.” Nadia handed her a pair of black ballet flats.

  “Thanks, girl. You’re a lif
esaver.” Scarlett put on the flats and leaned forward in her seat, staring down at the ice.

  “You’ve got your game face on,” Nadia teased.

  Scarlett grinned but her mind had already shifted into battle mode, which discouraged any further conversation.

  It was game time. Time to settle an old score.

  * * *

  VIGGO

  * * *

  This was it.

  The moment many hockey fans had been anticipating for weeks.

  All day on social media, people had been wishing him good luck on tonight’s game.

  The thing was, he didn’t really believe in luck, mojo or any of that other bullshit. He believed in talent, hard work and determination. He believed in laying it all on the line every time he stepped onto the ice. No guts, no fucking glory.

  He’d like to say this was just another game on the schedule, just another opponent to defeat on the road to the Cup. He’d like to say the outcome didn’t matter as much as people were saying it mattered.

  But he knew better.

  This was more than just another game to him. His past was inexorably linked to Jöran’s. Some of his childhood nightmares had featured Jöran. Some of his demons wore the mask of Jöran’s face.

  So, no, this wasn’t just another game. This was an exorcism.

  A hush fell over the arena as he skated to center ice to face off against his old nemesis.

  The second their eyes met, he was gripped by a powerful sense of déjà vu. His mind flashed on a memory of his grandfather sitting in the stands, motionless and watchful, striking fear in his heart with just a look.

  He and Jöran skated right up to each other, squaring off like two boxers before a fight. He’d always been taller than Jöran. He had a good three inches on him, but the prick made up for the deficit with a solid build and well-honed athleticism.

  He gave Viggo one of his twisted little smiles. “So we meet again, brother.”

  Viggo smirked. “You’re no brother of mine, asshole.”