They could pull it off. He didn’t like sneaking around, but he’d gladly do it if it meant he could be with her, and he kept his mojo.
* * * *
Kaley dropped into the seat next to Marina on the plane. Marina knew the moment her friend sat down that she was angling for answers, and unfortunately, she’d already guessed the questions.
“Drew played well tonight. I don’t believe he’s played that well in a few years, if ever.”
“Yes, he did.”
“He got the Fish Award.”
“I know. I was there.”
Kaley glanced around and lowered her voice. “He credited you for helping him with his game. How did you help him with his game, Marina?”
“Skating tips. Helped him skate more freely without being so tense.”
Kaley cocked a brow and grinned at her. “I bet you helped him some other ways, too. I’ve seen the heated looks that’ve passed between the two of you. You aren’t fooling me.”
Marina opened her mouth to protest, but nothing she said would convince Kaley differently. “Is it that obvious?”
“To me it is. Can’t speak for anyone else. The sparks have been flying between the two of you since you first met. I haven’t missed that, either.”
“We— Nothing happened.”
Her friend’s brows rose slightly. “Nothing?”
“OK, it only happened once. It won’t happen again. Just once. You can’t breathe a word to a soul.”
“My lips are sealed. What are friends for, after all? I do have one question; how do you think this is going to end? If Drew keeps playing like he did tonight, they’ll offer him a new contract. If you keep improving players, they’ll offer you a coaching position.”
“I know,” Marina said miserably. She should be thrilled at the prospect of this job, and she was, in a way. She also knew it would signal a death sentence for their relationship.
“Don’t sound so excited about it.”
Marina grimaced at her friend and stared out the window as the plane took off. She had no answers to her dilemma—at least none she liked.
“I’m curious, what would be your dream job?”
Marina blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes, considering Kaley’s question. She wasn’t sure she knew how to answer that or wanted to answer it.
“I bet it wouldn’t be working with hockey players.”
“Probably not,” Marina admitted with a wry smile. Kaley might be a recent friend, but she knew her too well. The fact that they were friends at all was odd, since Kaley was best friends with Lauren. Spilling her heart to the owner’s wife probably wasn’t the smartest move in the world, yet Kaley had proven trustworthy.
“So, what would it be?”
“I’d be coaching Olympic-level figure skaters.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“Uh, SkateGate, duh…”
“To hell with SkateGate. You can prove you’re not that person.”
“I’m working on it. Completing this season and doing my part to help the Sockeyes goes a long way toward repairing my reputation.”
“And after that? Have you considered trying to get a job at the new skating complex Ethan is funding? I understand they’re shooting toward having a world-class training facility for up-and-coming skaters and hockey players.”
“I’ve heard about that, but I haven’t really pursued it.”
She was lying. She’d heard about the facility being built in a Seattle suburb, and she dreamed of getting a job there.
“You should think about it. Ethan likes you, so does Lauren. They’ve seen how hard you’ve worked and the improvements you’ve made to the team. Hell, if you only improved Drew’s play, they’d be thrilled, but you’ve also helped many of the others, too. Even Smooth, whose skating was just about the best on the team seems a little faster and more fluid.”
“I’ll think about it. Any idea who they’re naming as the director of the figure skating program?” She felt Kaley out to see what she knew.
“Not yet. They’ll have to name someone soon as it’s supposed to open this fall. Talk to them. Let them know you’d be interested in being a part of their team.”
“Won’t that jeopardize my chances here?”
“That’s a chance you’ll have to take.”
Marina nodded grimly. A bird in the hand… But she didn’t have a clue if she had a bird in the hand or even one in the bush. She stared ahead and could barely make out the top of Drew’s head as he talked animatedly to Jared. He’d been on cloud nine after the performance tonight, and he’d played inspired hockey.
She wouldn’t stand in his way, either. Even if it meant losing her own dreams.
* * * *
The team flew back to Seattle, a short flight from San Jose, and Marina was in bed before midnight.
The next day, she took a day off, claiming a headache. She needed time away from the team, especially Drew, and they were only holding an optional practice. The team had a bit of a reprieve, not playing again until Saturday night. That’d give her plenty of time to get her head on straight and her mind off Drew.
Or so she hoped.
On Thursday, Marina met Drew at the SHAC for figure skating practice in the afternoon. They didn’t practice long, and she kept it strictly business, even though it was hard not to show emotion when he executed a near-perfect jump or did a flawless lift.
She worked one-on-one with a few of the guys and in small groups with others before finishing up later in the afternoon with Cave and Gibs, who were getting tougher to handle with each session.
She should have a conversation with Coop before Coach noticed she was losing control over them.
Cave stopped next to her before skating off the ice. He was standing too close, and she considered giving him a hard shove backward. Instead, she stood her ground and gazed up as if his invasion of her space was of little or no consequence.
“You know this is horseshit, right? I don’t need to learn this crap to be a good hockey player. I wouldn’t be here if Coach wasn’t being a dick and insisting on it.”
“You wouldn’t be here if your skating skills were as good as your stick handling skills.”
“I am good at stick handling.” A slow, predatory smile crossed his face, and he inched closer. “I could show you sometime.”
“I’m not interested.” He was about to get a knee between the legs. She lifted her chin and glared up at him. Something in her eyes must have cued him in to her lack of amusement regarding his remark. He slid backward a foot or two.
Shrugging, he said, “Too bad. Your loss.”
“Cave, let’s go,” Gibs shouted from the tunnel to the locker room. Gibs shot her one last look and followed his buddy off the ice.
Marina blew out a long breath and sank down on the bench to calm her nerves before she went into the bowels of the building and possibly ran into any players or staff. He’d shaken her, and she didn’t want anyone to witness it.
“You handled him well, I’d say.” She jumped slightly and turned to see Coop, in street clothes, standing nearby.
“Did you catch all of it?”
“Enough. I came out here for that purpose. I’ve heard some rumors he was giving you shit but seems like you’re handling him.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.” She gave Coop a shaky smile.
“Do you want me to straighten him out?”
Marina considered Coop’s offer. If he did speak to her tougher students, what did that say about her ability to handle a hockey team? Not much, not much at all. She’d be hard pressed to gain any respect from the ones who were grudgingly with the program, not to mention the few who were against it.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“If you change your mind, I’m here.” He smiled at her and disappeared down the tunnel.
Marina slipped on her blade guards and followed him. Several minutes later, Drew was waiting
near her car when she exited the building.
“Hey, I thought I’d head over to Gone Missing and work on some stuff. You want to join me? See what we do there?”
He sounded so hopeful, she couldn’t come up with a reason to say no, other than the obvious—they shouldn’t spend any more time together than necessary, but she didn’t have anything better to do. What could it hurt to hang out with him as long as they were properly chaperoned?
“Will your friend be there?”
He nodded with a smile. “Yeah, we won’t be alone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There he went. Reading her mind again. She was worried about being alone with him because she doubted she’d be strong enough to say no next time he asked. She’d spent a few lonely nights, and they’d been pure torture, worse than before she’d slept with him because now she knew what she was missing.
“Give me the address, and I’ll meet you there.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a business card and a pen.
“Here you go.” Drew scribbled an address on it and handed it back.
“I’m starving. Think we could get takeout?”
“Yeah, Bronson will be hungry, too. He doesn’t cook.” Drew grinned at her as she got in her car. She gave him a little wave and drove off.
Minutes later, Marina pulled up in front of Gone Missing and prayed she hadn’t made yet another disastrous decision.
Chapter 16—Dump and Chase
Waiting for Marina, Drew paced the floor until Bronson came out of his office and glared at him.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy. Sit your ass down. Wearing out my fine flooring isn’t going to get her here any faster. No woman is worth this shit.”
Drew stopped, and heat spread up his neck to his face. He’d been outed, but he knew better than to show any signs of weakness to Bronson, who’d pounce on him like a hungry lion. The red face was bad enough, and perhaps his buddy wouldn’t notice in the dimly lit building.
He glanced down at the ancient hardwood flooring and back up, cocking a brow at Bronson. The floor was as old as the hundred-year-old building and showed its age. He doubted it’d ever been refinished. Bronson had inherited the building a year ago and started his new business in it, turning down astronomical offers from developers salivating over the possibility of putting condos on the half a city block. Even though it wasn’t in the greatest part of town, any property within city limits was desirable.
Bronson wasn’t driven by money, though. He was driven by justice. Drew knew little about his past, but he was certain there was a story beyond him serving in Special Forces for a decade or so. The fact that he inherited this building from a distant relative he never talked about was part of his mystery.
Drew lowered himself into an old office chair, circa the 1960s, complete with four working wheels and blue vinyl with the stuffing coming out in places.
Bronson narrowed his eyes, his irritation more pronounced, but everything irritated Bronson, and Drew ignored most of it. Bronson loved to portray a badass; most of it was an act. His buddy was in pain, and occasionally, Drew saw flashes of that pain in his tortured gaze. He didn’t know if it had to do with the military, his family, or God forbid, a woman. Maybe all three. But it was there, and Bronson overcompensated by diving into his work twenty-four-seven. If he wasn’t here, he was at the small karate studio off the back of this building. He even lived upstairs in an apartment Drew had never seen. He could picture a cot in one corner and a small fridge with a table in another. That’d be Bronson.
He didn’t have any more time to contemplate Bronson’s issues when the bell on the door tinkled. Drew shot to his feet and sprinted around the boxes stacked everywhere like a running back aiming for the end zone.
He screeched to a halt in front of Marina, who stood in the open doorway. She surveyed the place with wide eyes and seemed hesitant to step farther into the questionable environment.
Drew grinned encouragingly at her and motioned her in the door. She slipped inside gingerly, as if afraid mice might attack at any moment. They possibly could. Or worse, rats.
“Come in. Welcome.”
“Thank you,” she said primly, as if they were strangers.
“Follow me back to the offices.”
“What is this place?” She hadn’t moved and was gazing around the dusty room, taking in the boxes stacked everywhere.
“It was an old general store at one time, then a warehouse, but it hadn’t been inhabited in years before Bronson inherited it. We use the set of offices in the back.”
“Are there rats in here?”
He suppressed a chuckle and shrugged, certain there were, but he wasn’t telling her that. Bracing himself for Bronson’s possible reaction, he led the way to the offices and prayed his buddy would be on better than usual behavior.
Bronson stood as they approached. The closer they got, the weirder it got. A broad grin spread across Bronson’s face, and likewise on Marina’s. They greeted each other like old friends, leaving Drew in open-mouthed shock. Bronson didn’t like anyone. He merely tolerated people, but it appeared he liked Marina.
Bronson waved Marina to a chair stacked with papers, moving quickly to pile the stuff on the floor. “Have a seat. How ya doing?”
Drew looked from one to the other, puzzled and thrown off balance. “Do you two know each other?”
“Never seen her in my life,” Bronson said pleasantly, instead of his usual grumpy growl.
“Me neither, but you look like the man who can get a job done,” Marina said.
“Oh, honey, I can get any job done to your satisfaction.”
“I bet you can.” Marina giggled and winked at him.
What the fuck? Bronson was flirting with her, and Marina liked it?
Jealousy stabbed Drew unexpectedly in the chest. What was going on here?
After wiping off the chair, Marina sat down primly and took the cup of coffee Bronson offered. Drew pushed a pile of crap off a metal chair, pulled it next to her, and sat down.
Amusement twinkled in Bronson’s dark, usually intimidating gaze. The fucker was jerking Drew’s chain. He knew Drew was jealous, and he was taking advantage. He’d show them both. Two could play this game.
“You can both cut the crap. I’m on to you guys. You’re trying to get a rise out of me.” He sat back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest, forcing a mellow smile on his face.
“What are you talking about? Me?” Bronson held out his hands, palms up, but a rat-bastard grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Marina shrugged in response. She, too, was suppressing a smile. “Drew, you’re getting a little territorial, aren’t you?” She turned to Bronson. “We’re only friends.”
Drew gritted his teeth, knowing he was doing a piss-poor job of appearing nonchalant.
Bronson sipped his coffee, watching Drew over the rim. “You’re so easy to fuck with.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Marina said.
The two of them fist-bumped, leaving Drew certain he’d fallen into a parallel universe or down a rabbit hole.
* * * *
Drew was fuming, jealous, and acting stupid. He had no reason to be any of the three, but he was.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Drew asked as soon as Marina left to get the pizza.
“What?” Bronson glowered at him and tapped a pencil impatiently on his metal desk.
“You and Marina. You acted like you were old buddies.”
Bronson threw back his head and let out a deep belly laugh. “Nah, we were just messin’ with ya. She’s a smart one, picked up on that right away. Pay attention, Deli, she might be too smart for you.”
“Are you saying I’m dumb?”
“Nah, I’m saying you’re so head over heels, you can’t see the warning signs. That girl is off limits. She’s going to break your heart.”
Drew scowled and sat down in the metal chair. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re alread
y in too deep, and I’m not sure she’s as committed as you are.”
“Whatever.” Drew ignored Bronson’s chuckle. “What are you working on?”
“Got a new one. The murder of local businessman John Harmon five years ago made to look like an accident. It’s all in here.” Bronson pushed the box on his desk toward Drew, who couldn’t resist the lure of a good murder mystery. He dug through the box, making stacks of the different kinds of information stored there. There was a shit-ton of financial records and bank statements, both personal and business. He’d look those over carefully.
Bronson plucked the medical examiner’s statement out of the box, read it, and handed it to Drew. “What does this tell you?”
Drew studied it for several minutes, but no matter how he looked at it, he came up with the same conclusion. “The killing was brutal, overkill, which almost always means it’s personal.” He glanced up at his friend. “This guy knew his killer.”
Bronson nodded. “Yeah, I would say so. It shows a level of anger not normally found in a robbery gone bad or even a murder for hire. This guy wanted him dead, and he wanted to take his rage out on him.”
“He’s gotten away with it for five years. He shows some sophistication and knowledge of forensics. But, anymore, the average person off the street can pick up that stuff by watching true crime TV shows. Isn’t that where you got the most of your training?”
Drew grabbed a paper cup and pegged Bronson in the head. Bronson’s eyes narrowed to menacing black slits, but he didn’t intimidate Drew. He knew him too well. He was one of the good guys, an honorable man who’d fought for injustices in the world. He’d come back scarred and weary, but he was a survivor, and Drew admired him.
“We need to make a list of possible suspects and what we know about them.”
Bronson nodded, looking almost proud, and Drew couldn’t help puffing up a bit from the silent praise. Bronson wasn’t that much older than him, but he looked up to him like a big brother.
“You love doing this, you know that, don’t you?”
Shot on Goal Page 16