Virgin Territory

by Lia Riley

  That’s when Patch set down his mug of stale office coffee and snapped, “Fuck this, I’m taking a piss.”

  As he walked back out of the bathroom, he nearly plowed into the man himself.

  And from how Footscray was standing, positioned next to a potted plant, arms crossed, it didn’t seem like a chance encounter.

  “This isn’t going to end well for you. I’m going to win. It’s what I do,” Guy had slicked-back Don Draper hair, but without the husky build. He was thin, his skin a pasty grey from too much time spent indoors. But his eyes were what chilled Patch’s blood. They reminded him of the men that used to come to Ma’s apartment. Blank. Devoid of emotion.

  “You want an apology? How’s this. I’m sorry I didn’t remove your creepy arm from your body.”

  “What a temper.” Guy’s cold smile vanished. “Don’t jerk my dick, Donnelly. I ain’t wearing skates. When I attack, I hit hard.”

  “I heard you like to fight for fun,” Patch said evenly. “And get trained by a creep named Stefan. Didn’t know Denver had an Asshole Club. I could build you a treehouse if you promise never to come down.”

  “You think you’re such hot shit. That night . . . you liked hurting me, I saw it.”

  “I did. You know what? It feels good to bring pain to a sick prick who wants to prey on young girls. You do that a lot? Drug women? Shit. What a prize you are.”

  “I was getting somewhere before you moved in. I got money. I drive a nice car. Have a place in Breckenridge. But does any of that matter to women these days? I tell you, nothing is enough anymore. You can’t even tell one to smile without her getting her thong in a wad. Feminazis won’t be satisfied until the entire male sex is nothing but a bunch of nutless cucks. And you know who’s the worst?” He was spitting bullets now. “Little bitches like those two chicks that night. They flaunt their honey, but if you try to move in for a taste, they act like you’re the one in the wrong. What I did was level the playing field. Take back some of the power. But I don’t expect you to understand. You’re a cuck too, and it’s my word against yours. And even if I don’t get the money. Even if you fight this. I still win. Because no one will ever know for sure about you. You’ll be under suspicion forever. And every day when you wake up under that little grey rain cloud, you’re going to feel it.”

  A warning growl rumbled through his chest. “What?”

  “Me. Fucking you.” Guy grabbed his cock and shook his hips in a vile gesture.

  “Sorry.” A familiar voice rang out. “Looks like somebody just got neutered.”

  Patch walked around the corner and there was Margot kneeling on one leg in a waiting room chair, holding out her smartphone. “Check it out! I managed to get almost the whole convo on my record app.”

  Sully stood beside her. “And I was able to get a clear visual ID on the speakers.”

  Guy backed up.

  “Not so fast,” Margot said. “You have a big mouth, Mr. Footscray.”

  “And made a big mistake,” Sully answered. “Actually a series of big mistakes, ranging from attempted drugging of a minor to trying to frame an innocent man. You a Catholic?”

  “No,” Guy spit.

  “Pity, because I’d love to select your penance.”

  “Shit.” Guy fled and Patch stared at them.

  “We were reading magazines, waiting for you to finish,” Margot said, holding up a copy of Popular Mechanics. “And heard everything. He had no idea we were here.”

  “I didn’t either.”

  “Guess we’re your lucky charms.”

  Sully gestured the opposite direction from where Guy had just fled. A door slammed. “Shall we go put an end to this circus? What I just witnessed will no doubt influence the outcome of the suit.”

  “A bad man did more bad things. Shocking, I know, but they tend to do that,” Margot said. “You two go in and talk to the lawyers. I’m going out front.”

  “What? Why?” Patch reached for her waist.

  She leaned into him, her hand rubbing small circles on the low part of his back. “Because there’s press out there ready to act as your public judge and jury. I’m merely setting the record straight with this.” She held up her phone. “My guess is that Guy Footscray is going to be persona non grata in this city for a long time to come. And I want his face shown far and wide so people can remember him.”

  “No one better mess with you,” he said, impressed.

  “Or my man.”

  He pressed a kiss on her upturned lips. It was meant to be quick. A wordless thank you. But his tongue had other ideas.

  Finally, Sully cleared his throat.

  “Go,” Margot said, running a hand over his hair. “I’ll be waiting.”

  The tide of public opinion turned so fast that Patch was left breathless. The next night the Hellions stadium rumbled with the anticipation of a sold-out crowd. Signs were in the audience, supporting Patch. Overnight the news headlines had flipped in his favor.

  Now it was time for business. The Hellions and the Renegades had come up against each other six of the past eight playoffs, and an intense rivalry burned bright between them. As the players listened to the national anthem, the tension was nearly palpable.

  At opening faceoff, Patch crouched in front of the net, shifting his weight from side to side. Watching. Waiting. Ready.

  Puck drop. The stadium exploded.

  Patch’s mind emptied like a sieve, just like he’d practiced with Margot. Gone was the stress of the past few months. There was no room during the next three periods for thought. Only breath. He had to live moment to moment.

  Hellions went on the offense early. Petrov got a backshot that the Renegade goalie blocked with a core move. He dropped low on the ice, knees drawn in close with his legs splayed out.

  It was like Patch had told Coach before the game. The Renegade goalie was good, with a solid well-deserved rep. His moves were honed to textbook perfection. But he was a slave to his habits.

  “That’s how to beat ’em,” Patch had said. “Let me color outside of the lines. Feel each play and react in the moment.”

  Tor had agreed. And that trust meant everything.

  Patch stayed on his feet, agile and reactive, moving around the crease, defending the puck. He could drop low when he needed to; the important thing was to optimize all of his reflexes to be prepared for whatever was coming at him. Time went by and he barely registered the plays, fully in the zone, “giving over to the unconscious mind,” as Margot put it.

  Whatever it was called. It worked.

  By third period the score was still zero to zero.

  “Enjoy your night with the big boys,” Nate Fury grunted, skating in close after Patch blocked one of his famous snapshots. “You’ll be back in the minors before you know it.”

  Donnelly didn’t budge. Hell, he didn’t even blink. He took a deep breath, pulling the air right to where Margot had taught him. He was the base, holding the team. And they would be able to fly only if he stayed steady.

  “Come on,” Fury taunted, getting in his crease. “Give it to me. I’d like to see you try.”

  Patch forced his shoulders to relax. If he locked up, he’d lock out. Coach was right. Baiting him was part of the opposition’s strategy. They wanted to trigger him and rack up the penalties.

  But rather than giving himself over to the rage, he pictured Margot’s face. The adorable way she looked eating donuts in bed, the curve to her wrist as she poured a cup of tea. The thoughts provided him with a safe anchor, allowed the storm inside to retreat.

  “Not today, Satan,” he muttered.

  “You say something?” Fury pressed, eager to get into the shit.

  Yeah. He did. He wanted to go home tonight, head high. He wanted Margot who was watching somewhere in the screaming chaos to be proud of him. He wanted to go all three periods without letting a single puck get by.

  “Actually I’m good,” he called out in an easy tone. Letting go of his ego. Of fear. Of shame. “And why wo
uldn’t I be, seeing as we’re gonna win.”

  Fury moved on in frustration as Petrov landed a one-time slap shot, edging them into the advantage.

  Tor punched a fist from the sidelines. Patch dropped back into an active crouch and let the world go silent. He tuned out and tuned in, reminding himself why he was here. Why he was really here.

  Love.

  He did what he did for love. Fear had gotten in the way, but no more. The clock ran down . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one.

  Whistle!

  He saw her face in an instant, impossible to believe in a crowd of this size. But the moment the game ended, he glanced up and locked in on a familiar freckled face. On some level, he must have known she was there the whole time.

  She blew him a kiss, and although she wouldn’t be able to see behind his mask, he knew she’d know that he was grinning ear to ear. Because for one night, in one city, in one stadium, on a block of ice . . . love won. And of course it did. He chuckled as he skated in, toward victory, toward his team, toward his coach, and the arms of the woman who gave him the courage to risk everything.

  Love always wins.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Two months later

  “Come on, come on, don’t be a stick in the mud!” Margot tugged Patch’s wrist with a playful jerk. “How can you resist this opportunity of a lifetime? We’re in a mountain meadow. There are wildflowers. The sun is shining. It’s Aspen. Now take my hand and let’s frolic.”

  He grinned down at her as she cavorted beneath him. “With what? A hundred people watching?”

  “They don’t care about us. They’re focused on the bride and groom.”

  She turned over her shoulder and grinned. Breezy looked radiant in a strapless white dress that hugged her curves, her thick blonde hair drawn up into an elegant chignon. Jed was unable to take his eyes off her, much to the annoyance of the photographer who was trying to get a few shots as the guests milled around them, holding champagne flutes.

  “Lucky for me, I’m more interested in the bridesmaid,” Patch drawled. “And I’m not going to skip, but I will walk with you.” He bent and plucked a small, violet-colored blossom and handed it to her. “Besides I want to ask you something and this seems like the right time.”

  “This sounds serious,” she said lightly.

  “I’ve been waiting for the right moment. Hard when I haven’t seen you much the past couple of weeks. Our schedules have been crazy. Me on the road, you at work.”

  She’d been taking a night class in small business management, in addition to teaching her yoga classes. She had the business plan developed for Sanctuary and Dusk had agreed to join forces, merging the Nirvana studio with her once they located a space.

  “Yeah, time is flying. The season is going to be over soon. How are you feeling about it, O Captain! My Captain?”

  Tor had made it official last week. Patch Donnelly was now the Hellions captain. It was a highly unusual choice picking a goalie, but the Hellions were shaping up to be an unusual team. Scrappy. Unpredictable. Playing more from their hearts than their heads.

  “So far, so good. It’s going to help having Petrov as the on-ice captain. We’re figuring out our path forward, and adjusting to the new reality of life without Mister Hockey up there,” he nodded toward Jed West. “We won’t make the playoffs, but next year, it’s going to be a whole new level.”

  “You had to go through growing pains.”

  He grimaced. “I feel like my life is one big growing pain.”

  “Hey!” she swatted his chest. “I’m part of that growth.”

  “I’m not saying it’s not good.” He drew her in, and did the thing she loved, where he pressed his forehead to hers, held still, and they just breathed together. “It’s just not easy.”

  “I’m so proud of you,” she said. “Those words don’t even come close to cutting it actually.”

  “This morning I tried imagining what would’ve happened if I hadn’t gone to you for help.”

  “And?”

  “I felt like screaming.”

  “You’ll never be lost again.” She reached up and fingered his Saint Anthony chain. “I’ve found you.”

  He clasped his hand on hers. “So I did a thing,” he said. “And I don’t want you to be mad. Because I know this, you, me, is still early days, and I don’t want to scare you.”

  “Do I look scared?”

  “Never.” He kissed her nose. “Remember how your ex’s martial arts studio closed down last month?”

  “Do I remember when the bank repossessed Stefan’s gym because he’d been committing tax fraud? Yeah that rings a bell, and a warm happy feeling. But why are you bringing him up on this perfect day?”

  “Because my financial advisor is up my ass to make more investments. He’s a believer in real estate. Says Denver is booming.”

  “Okay?” She furrowed her brows, unsure where this was going.

  “I want what they have,” he murmured, turning her around, holding her at the waist as they watched Breezy and Jed kiss. Tor and Neve stood beside them for the picture. Tor’s face was serious until Neve sneaked out her fingers to tickle his ribs.

  He rested his jaw on the top of her head and she leaned into the solid strength of him. “I want to put a ring on your finger.”

  “I’m not in opposition,” she said slowly, her cheeks flushing.

  “But first I want to give you something else. Something that’s just for you. No strings attached.”

  He stepped away and she turned as he got down on one knee, removing an envelope from his pocket.

  “What is this?” she asked with a startled laugh.

  “I bought the building,” he said. “Your dream building. It seemed a fair trade given that you’ve made so many of my dreams come true.”

  “You . . .” Her brain flatlined. “You are giving me a space to start Sanctuary?”

  “Seems fitting, considering you’re mine.”

  “Patrick, I don’t know what to say.”

  “You sign that and your name is on the deed. Co-owner.”

  “Co-owner.” Her lips moved soundlessly. “I don’t know what to say except that I love you so much. It’s one thing to believe in my dreams. It’s another thing to back it up with a building.”

  “I’m the base. You’re the flyer. That’s how we work. Right?”

  “Does this mean you’re going to keep doing Acro Yoga with me?”

  He stood up and grinned down at her. “If it means I get to keep touching that sweet ass, I’m willing to do anything.”

  “You’re bad,” she said, looping her arms around his shoulders. “But you are so good for me.”

  “Would you settle for me sweeping you off your feet in a meadow?” He pulled her up, cradled her against him and spun around.

  “You think this will really work? Us as business partners.”

  “Forget all the reasons why it won’t,” he murmured. “And think of the one that will.”

  And then he kissed her, the way he did everything these days, with focus, with purpose and with love.

  Announcement to Hellions Angels series

  Don’t miss any of Lia Riley’s Hellions Angels series!

  MISTER HOCKEY

  Her biggest fantasy is about to become a reality . . .

  Jed West is Mister Hockey. The captain of the NHL’s latest winning team, the Denver Hellions—and the hottest player on the ice—at least according to every magazine . . . and Breezy Angel. Breezy has been drooling over Jed at games for years, and he plays a starring role in her most toe-curling fantasies. But dirty dreams don’t come true, right?

  Then Jed saunters through the doors of her library, a last-minute special guest for a summer reading event, and not only is he drop-dead gorgeous up close, his personality is straight up swoon-worthy. He even comes to the rescue when she has an R-rated “Super Book Worm” costume malfunction. But when he mistakenly assumes she’s more into books than pucks, she’
s too flustered to correct his mistake. And then comes a big kiss, followed by a teensy-tiny problem. Jed’s dating policy is simple: Never date a fan.

  So what’s a fangirl going to have to do to convince her ultimate crush that he’s become less of a perfect fantasy, and more like the perfect man . . . for her?

  And keep reading for an excerpt from

  HEAD COACH

  Neve Angel’s life is all work and no play, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. One of Denver’s top sports reporters, she’s fought hard to make it in a male-dominated world, and she won’t back down from a fight with anyone—not even the Hellions’ gruff head coach, Tor Gunnar. Her hostile relationship with the icy Scandinavian is the stuff of local legend.

  Tor Gunnar hates dealing with the media; at best, they are a nuisance and at worst, a distraction. And no one distracts him more than the scrappy, sexy reporter who gets him hot under the collar. When he wins a not-so-friendly bet with Neve, he decides it’s high time they either kiss or kill each other, and invites her as a date to an out-of-town wedding.

  But what happens when enemies become lovers? Will they be able to smother their sizzling attraction, or is it time to start playing for keeps?

  Head Coach, Chapter One

  Stuck in a Rut?

  The billboard’s tacky font splashed across the image of a blonde woman dressed in a corset, high-waist underpants and garter belt. Neve Angel scowled through her windshield at the rest of the tagline.

  Shimmy into a Whole New You!

  BEGINNER Burlesque Classes at The Twirling Tassels

  “Humph.” Neve tucked an escaped strand of hair back into her bun. Ms. Blondie could pop an egg in her perfect pout and suck it. Since quitting figure skating at the age of eighteen, she had developed an allergy to glitz and glamor, favoring low-key personal grooming.