by RJ Scott
THE CODE
Ice Dragons Hockey #1
Copyright ©2016 RJ Scott
First Edition
Cover design by Meredith Russell
Edited by Sue Adams
Published by Love Lane Books Limited
ISBN 978-1-78564-054-4
Falling for his best friend’s sister seemed like a good idea at the time.
Ryan Flynn’s life and career with the Ice Dragons hockey team is defined by a code: friendship, loyalty, respect, leadership, and protection. A call from his best friend’s sister ends up with him taking her home, and it’s all he can do to remember that she’s off limits. It doesn’t matter that she’s too much of a temptation for a man on the edge, he’s promised her brother he wouldn’t let any guy in professional sports anywhere near her, and that includes him.
Kat has been in lust with hockey player Ryan Flynn since she first laid eyes on him. The problem? Ryan is her brother’s best friend, bound by a complicated code of chivalry both on and off the ice. When he rescues her and then takes her home, she just needs a single kiss—and he is more than happy to help her out. When the kiss is just the start of something they need to hide from her brother, abruptly things are out of control.
Could Ryan, the hard man of the Dragons, see her as anything more than his best friend’s sister? And will Kat be able to catch and keep this Dragon who is the other half of her?
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
DEDICATION
For Lace who taught me everything I know; you rock, and any mistakes in this book are mine and mine alone. You introduced me to the Pittsburgh Penguins and I will be forever grateful, particularly as you let me share Sid and Geno.
For Sue Adams, who makes me look good, and Meredith Russell, for her beautiful covers.
To my army of beta readers and proofers, I love you all, thank you for the hard work you put into this.
And, always for my family.
CHAPTER 1
Ryan was ready to kill someone. It didn't matter if it was the desk sergeant, the janitor cleaning the floors or the guy who had laid hands on Kathryn. Someone was going to be in a world of hurt tonight.
He thumped a fist on the counter, adrenaline spiking to the point where normally he’d drop gloves and pummel another defenseman into the ice. All he had here was the steely-eyed cop with the determination of a momma bear guarding her cubs. Not to mention a janitor who had stopped cleaning floors and was openly staring.
“I want. To see. Her. Now,” he forced out through gritted teeth.
“You’ll be taken through in a few minutes,” the cop—Travis, according to his badge—said. The same thing he’d been saying over and over since Ryan burst through the doors.
“She called me.”
“And as soon as we are able, we will show you through. Please take a seat.”
Ryan pushed away from the counter, his hands in fists at his side, a red mist descending. Kathryn was somewhere in this precinct.
And she was hurt.
“Is he in the building?” Ryan asked.
“Sir?”
“The asshole who hurt Kathryn? Is he here?”
Just give me five minutes with the guy, and I’ll show him what it’s like to hurt.
“I don’t have that information,” Travis said.
The cop was lying. Somewhere in this building was the fucker who had hurt Kat, and Ryan just needed a few seconds alone with him. He wasn’t sitting down for one freaking second.
He bounced on the balls of his feet, ready to burst through the doors and find her as soon as they unlocked.
The janitor worked his way closer, still staring. “Are you—” the guy began, sounding awed.
Ryan glared and crossed his arms over his chest. “No. I just look like him.”
“Oh.” The janitor looked disappointed. Luckily it seemed he actually believed that a six-four man with Ryan Flynn’s face, height, and aggressive stance wasn’t really the D-man of the Ice Dragons hockey team, after all. The janitor shuffled away, his bucket rolling after him.
Ryan wanted to feel guilty—he loved interacting with fans—but tonight he couldn’t. Hell, there wasn’t room for guilt in with the anger and the worry. The last thing he needed right now was to be told it sucked that the Dragons might not make the playoffs. Nor did he want advice on keeping his temper under lock and key and to not be that enforcer who made stupid penalties, and to just do his job. He certainly didn’t want the new favorite from fans: that it was all Ryan’s fault the Dragons’ star wing, Loki, was out for the rest of the season.
He knew what he had and hadn’t done, and he didn’t need random people telling him that shit. In fact, right now he just needed through the door, but coming over as a madman wasn’t working, so he added some of the charm he sometimes allowed through. He looked behind him to make sure the janitor had vanished.
“Do you know who I am? I’m Ryan Flynn.”
He realized he sounded like a complete douchebag, but if using his name got him through that door he’d use it.
Travis looked down at the paperwork. “So I see,” he said, with an infuriatingly even tone in his voice.
“I’m a D-man for the Ice Dragons,” he added.
Travis frowned a little at that. Maybe Ryan wasn't specific enough.
“A defenceman, with the hockey team, at the Sweetings Arena. You know. Hockey.” He made a swing with his arm, like that would help.
“I know who you are,” Travis said.
“Then you know I can get you tickets for the next game—hell, next season, man, if you just let me in.”
“Sir, please, you need to sit down and wait.”
“Two seasons?” Ryan said, a little desperately. Even if the Dragons didn’t take him after next season, he’d damn well pay for the second year of tickets himself.
“I’m a baseball fan,” Travis said. “Please sit down.”
Ryan didn’t have any contacts within the nearest baseball team. So, all out of options, he finally he did.
The chair was tiny, and it creaked under him as he fell heavily into it, causing Travis to look up and quirk an eyebrow. So sue him if he broke a chair. Kat needed him, and he wanted to be on the other side of the desk. The damned cop was guarding the place better than the Dragons’ goalie guarded his net.
He pulled out his cell, the evidence of the calls he’d received from Kat on his record. He’d ignored his phone for the first three times, but after the caller tried four times, he finally answered just to shut it up. He’d not even looked at the name, snappy and tired, and then Kat had spoken.
Something happened, I need your help.
He was putting his sneakers on before he even said he was on his way.
They wont let me leave on my own. Can you come and get me?
Finally, the door behind the desk opened, and a skinny cop spoke to Travis under her breath.
Ryan strained to listen and to read their lips. He’d gotten good at that on the bench, watching the other team talk. Part of being a hockey player was insider knowledge on what a
team might do next. Here, he couldn’t make out much more than a few words. His chest tightened until breathing was hard, and he pressed a fist to his sternum. Should Kat be in the hospital? What were they saying?
The two of them looked over at him.
Travis nodded. “Mr. Flynn? Officer Meeks will take you through now.”
His tone of voice was compassionate, and horror joined the panic inside Ryan. Had something happened? Kat had sounded okay on the phone, kind of off-center and speaking in soft tones, but she’d been talking.
Loki should be here. Ryan should have woken him up. Loki was her brother, and he should be here. What if she needed him? He and Kat were as close as siblings—rivalry, arguments, teasing, shared memories, but would he be enough?
What if Ryan couldn’t make things right? He wasn’t calm like Loki; he had an aggression inside him that fifteen years of playing hockey had honed to perfection. Kat didn’t need Ryan, with his temper or the hell he would threaten to rain down on anyone who hurt her. She needed her brother, with his spark, and his heart, and his own brand of compassion.
“I can’t…,” he heard himself saying, his voice quiet, his fists tight.
One minute he was demanding to see her, the next it was impossible to imagine her beyond that door, hurt, maybe. Upset.
“Sir,” Officer Meeks said, “this way.”
I can’t.
What if she sees the temper in me and I scare her?
And worse, what if I give myself away? What if I pull her into my arms and tell her everything that’s inside me. What if I grab hard and never let her go? Or ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to keep right?
Finally, something in his brain told his feet to move, and he followed the officer through the door. As soon as it closed behind him, Officer Meeks stopped.
“I understand that you’re a family friend.”
“Yes,” he managed. “Nicolas Lecour, her brother, he’s recovering from surgery. He’s back home ….”
But it didn’t matter where Loki was, all that mattered was that Ryan was here and Kathryn needed him.
“Kathryn was caught up in a gas station robbery along with a family of four from Wisconsin. The clerk pressed a panic button, and first responders attended. The perpetrator pulled a gun on her, and there was a short standoff until he was finally detained. She made her statement, and we suggested she go to the hospital, which she declined.” Meeks looked at him with a frown as though she couldn’t understand why Kat wouldn’t want to go to the hospital.
“She’s a paramedic. She’d know if she was hurt,” Ryan defended.
Kat wouldn’t put herself in danger by refusing treatment if she needed it. Would she?
“Often first responders are the worst patients,” Officer Meeks said softly. Then she laid a hand on his arm. “She refused further assessment, and our protocols kicked in for a family member or friend to assist. You need to advocate for her, get her medical attention if you feel she needs it.”
Ryan stared at her. He’d heard the words, and he felt sick. It sounded like she was really hurt. But if it was really bad, she’d be in the hospital, right? Then he considered Meeks’s words; that first responders were stubborn, and he knew that to be true. He’d never met a more tenaciously focused woman in his life. How hurt would she have to be to give in? She might be sitting there bleeding and still say she wasn’t going to a hospital. Just like a hockey player would.
“I’ll talk to her,” he promised. I’ll make sure the determined idiot is okay, and I’ll carry her to the hospital if I need to.
Because I can do that.
She could fight and hiss and demand he let her go, but he was bigger and stronger, and he’d make sure she was okay.
Officer Meeks led him down a maze of corridors, through a security door, and then stopped beside an innocuous sign stating Family Room.
“I’ll stay out here,” Meeks said with a nod.
Ryan swallowed the dread inside him. He even attempted to form a smile, but he knew it was likely crooked and wrong from the widening of the officer’s eyes. He probably looked one step away from losing his cool.
“Through there,” she murmured in encouragement.
He settled his breathing. And then he opened the door, slipped inside, and shut it behind him before he could second-guess why he was here.
The room was simple: sofas, a coffee table in the middle, a large skylight, and corner lamps. At the moment, the room was softly lit by one of the lamps.
Sitting bolt upright in one corner of the largest sofa was Kat.
Ryan took one look at her face and couldn’t help himself; a curse fell from his lips without conscious thought. A vivid scarlet mark ran from her eye socket to her cheekbone, as if someone had deliberately slapped her; bruises ringed her neck, and her lip was cut, evidenced by a butterfly bandage just below the left corner. She was so beautiful, and he couldn’t bear to see the marks on her soft skin.
She looked up at him, her green eyes bright. He stepped closer and she stared at him. Her lower lip trembled as though she was fighting tears; he wanted to hold her and stop her from crying.
God, all I want is to hold her.
“Take me home, Ryan,” she said, her voice broken. Then she added a much smaller, quieter “Please.”
CHAPTER 2
Ryan had made a lot of promises over the years, but the one he’d had the most trouble with was the one he’d given to Loki. He’d made it on the night of Kat’s first prom, vowing that he’d have Loki’s back if one of the punk-ass kids at school laid hands on Kathryn.
“You have to promise,” Loki had said to him.
They were nineteen years old and drunk on cheap beer. They’d done the whole intimidation thing, and Kat’s prom date vanished into the darkness. That was a good thing: the baseball captain might be academically gifted, but he was a jock. Therefore he wasn’t good enough for Kat.
Not in her brother’s eyes, and not in his.
“Promise what?” He could only watch as Kat cried because the jock had left.
They’d only meant to intimidate him into playing nice, not get him to run away with his tail between his legs.
“Don’t ever let her near a jock,” Loki snapped. He didn’t appear to have any remorse at seeing the guy run, but then, he hadn’t seen his sister’s tears. “No one likes us. Because all we are is hockey, and all we do is for the team.”
“I promise.”
“We fuck and leave, and nothing means anything.”
“Loki—”
“Don’t you ever let anyone like us hurt her.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
The smile slipped from his face when the enormity of what he’d promised sunk into his soul, and for a second he hesitated. He had to be the friend she’d need. Not the man who kissed her to stop her crying after prom. The same man who then stepped back as she ran from him, and didn’t go after her.
The same idiot who’d been in love with her then, and couldn’t imagine life without her now.
Ryan’s chest tightened “Jesus, Kat.”
“Ryan, please.”
He noticed certain things: the shine in her eyes, the marks on her pale skin, the way her hands were in fists in her lap, and the determination eerily similar to the shield her brother used to face the world. The same utter focus he showed on the ice, she had going on here. He couldn’t say no to anything Kat asked.
“Let’s go,” he said.
She pushed herself up, and he held out a hand. At first, she ignored it, and he hated that she wouldn’t let him help. Then, after that slight hesitation, her small fingers curled into his hold. He helped her to stand as she wobbled and her grip on him tightened. Then he pulled her into a hug, as a brother would a sister: a tight, firm hug, where he tried to make her feel he was here for her.
She pressed close for a second, gripping his worn Dallas Stars shirt and holding tight. Then she backed away a little, but still with the hold on him. She looked unsteady on
her feet, despite the determination to go.
“They said he hurt you….” Ryan began.
“No.” She held up a hand to stop him. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Kat—”
“They said if I got someone to take me home—”
“I’m here.”
“I want to go home—”
“Kat, calm down.”
It seemed like they were talking over each other. He gripped her hard and shook her a little, just to stop her panicked words. She wrenched free of him stumbled and went white, all the blood draining from her face. He gripped her again to stop her falling, and she hissed in pain. Where he held her, bruises were forming, red and sore—the imprint of another man’s hands on her—and his stomach churned.
“I’m fine,” she snapped and pushed down the sleeve.
As she moved, she swayed and thumped him in the arm for seemingly no reason. Tension clearly knotted inside her. When had this turned from him coming to help her, to being the object of her anger?
“Just sign me out of here. They won’t let me out of here until someone signed responsibility or I agreed to go to the hospital. Fuck.”
The curse word was new. Kat didn’t use profanity to emphasize how she felt; she was too calm and clever for that. The words were wrong coming from her mouth. Even when she and Ryan argued, bickered, and teased, she never lowered to his level. That was exactly the point at which he would lose an argument. The second he cursed to make his point, she would grin at him, and he would kick himself.
“Kat, sweetheart, this is—”
“Don’t sweetheart me, Ryan Flynn. Just get me out-of-here.” The words ran together, and she gripped him harder and swayed into him.
Her hands on him were enough to jar him back to focusing in on her. Fear and anger left him in an instant, replaced with compassion. Her stubborn independence was something he admired, but right now he needed to take care of her.