The confession he made in the wake of our heated sex confounded me. Was it the endorphins coursing through his brain or did he truly feel this way? Once again, I felt wary and cautious, as if I was standing at the tip of a precipice, trusting that an invisible path was there but afraid to take the first step. We had been given another chance and my heart was nearly leaping out of my chest with hope and anticipation of how good we could be together. The big question was ‘what about the baby’? Could I trust Ki to stick around?
“What about my pregnancy?”
“I already love our baby, angel. It was never a question. I was angry and hurt because you wanted to dissolve our marriage without discussing your concerns with me first. You never gave us a chance. I know it wasn’t ideal how we got married, but I’m in this with you for life. So, get used to it Zoe Connery.”
He placed his hand lovingly on my belly and kissed it. The shards of ice encasing my heart shattered into a million pieces.
Ki heaved a sigh. “I’ve got a game to play.”
“I know.” I was afraid to let go of him and break the spell. We reluctantly pulled apart. Ki cupped my face and kissed me tenderly. He gave me that smile that undid me every time. “Go get’em, Ki the Sly. I’ll be watching from the box.”
“Angel, you give me wings.”
As I watched Ki reluctantly leave me, I realized that anywhere he went, my heart was sure to follow.
Chapter 14
Zoe
The arena went dark. Music boomed through the speakers, announcing the arrival of the Otters players who would appear momentarily through the tunnel to seize the win in the final Stanley Cup playoff game. Blue and white spotlights whirled around the arena in a frenzied fashion, bouncing off the ceiling and the stands. Blue mist wafted around the Otters’ entrance as ghostly shadows emerged to take the ice. The crowd went wild. Their excitement thrummed through me with the thunderous applause and the heady vibration of the music with its reverberating beat. Cameras flashed throughout the arena. Cheers soon turned to boos as the Miami Cruisers took their place on the ice. The music stopped. The spotlights dimmed, dousing the arena in total darkness. The anticipation was electrifying. I sought Ki’s outline. He stood a few inches above his other teammates awaiting their introduction. Si Bellows, the announcer, welcomed the fans to the seventh and final game of the Stanley Cup playoffs. The noise drowned out Si’s intro. The stands were going wild amidst loud whistles, shouts, and cheers when a spotlight hit the Otters players.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and kids! Welcome your San Jose Otters!” Si’s voice boomed through the speakers.
A swell of excitement surged through the crowd. The players waved back at the fans or lifted their sticks in recognition, further inciting the exhilaration which drowned out Si once more. I smiled at the adulation our fans had for our team. I shared that pride for the Otters, if not more so. My heart nearly burst with joy as I got swept up in the historical moment. If our team could pull off a win tonight, it would be their first Stanley Cup since the inception of the organization. Everything was riding on this last game. All the hard work, training, careful recruitment, and preparation had led them up to this one moment.
Si introduced the last Otters member, “And leading your team to victory tonight, please show your appreciation and love for Killian ‘Ki the Sly’ Connery, your team captain!”
Ki took a short turn around the ice, waving and smiling at the crowd and skated back to his place in the lineup as Si finished his introduction of the Miami team. Following the last player, we stood for the national anthem. We all turned to face the flag that was being lowered from the ceiling. Si introduced Athena, a young, black-haired beauty who walked onto a blue runner to a microphone. Her rendition of the anthem brought tears to my eyes. The crowd seemed affected too, for they had gone deathly silent, rapt with captivation. When the last note was sung, applause erupted throughout the arena. The stadium lights illuminated the rink as Athena Martin waved to the fans and exited the ice.
The players headed to their benches and waited impatiently for the official to begin the game. I settled nervously in my seat as the overhead Jumbotron entertained us with a lightshow on the ice, flashing both teams’ logos and that of the most prominent sponsors. Large screens mounted on each side of the Jumbotron replayed the series’ highlights up to this last and final game. TV cameras zoomed in to capture the crowd’s excitement while Si announced the beginning of the game and the momentous puck drop. I took a sharp breath when Ki and Flynn took the ice in face off with their opponents. Hunched over, they waited for the official to drop the puck. Play ensued and Ki quickly gained control. My adrenalin matched his every move. This game was going to be a close one. I’d seen the Cruisers’ stats. They had a young and well-matched team. If we were to win tonight, it would be a well-deserved triumph.
By the time the ref blew the whistle for the third and final period, my hands were clammy. Sweat trickled down my back and between my breasts despite the air conditioning in the owner’s box. The Jumbotron flashed a tied score—three to three. If I was nervous, I could only imagine what was going through Ki’s mind. He was sitting along with the other players with his visor flipped up, downing a drink. Sweat dripped from his face from sheer exertion. The past two periods had been demanding on the defense. Luckily, the man had some mad puck-handling skills evidenced by the two goals he’d scored—one in very beginning of the first period that had sent the rink into a fever and one late in the second period. Flynn had scored the third goal to tie the game before the ref blew the whistle at the end of the second period. Coach Burrell’s face was intense as he went over last-minute strategies. My stomach growled, but I was too focused on the Otters bench and the intensity on each of the players’ faces. They all knew what was at stake. We were one goal shy of winning this game. If our defense could keep the puck away from the Cruisers and out of our zone, we had an excellent shot of claiming the cup. After Ki scored the first goal, the Cruisers quickly regrouped and scored to tie the game, proving themselves formidable opponents. I had seen a lot of defeated looks on our players’ faces. I had sensed their frustration and anger but also their determination to come out ahead after Miami tied the game with their two added goals. Rut, our goalie’s mood was blacker than the night. I felt sorry for any player that was going to square off against him. They were going to need nothing short of a death wish to tangle with him. The official blew the whistle, signaling the face off at center ice. The third and final period began.
In the final minutes of the game, Lonergan, the Cruisers’ number twenty-two, body-checked Ki into the boards. The sheer force of the collision threw Ki backward and onto the ice, knocking the wind out of him. The home crowd rose from their seats, booing. I jerked upright too, knuckling the railing so hard blood was draining from my hand, leaving it a ghostly white. Ki struggled to regain his balance, which he finally managed with Flynn’s help. The ref blew the whistle to give Ki a reprieve. I exhaled with relieve as he slowly skated back to the bench to speak with Don Cantrell, the Otters’ trainer. I saw Ki shake his head and take the ice shortly afterward when the whistle blew again to resume the game.
Play began, and Ki and Flynn slid the puck back and forth, outflanking the Cruisers’ defense and breaking out of the Otters zone with Lonergan hot on their tail. Bender and Taylor swamped Lonergan so Ki and Flynn could set up a slap shot. A melee for the puck ensued when Dillon, a Cruisers defenseman, intercepted the puck, skating behind their net followed by several players bumping and sliding into each other amid grunts and slamming each other into the boards while chasing the elusive puck. Bender followed Dillon as he headed down ice. Midway, Bender forechecked Dillon in a beautiful defensive play, seizing the puck whirling toward the Cruisers’ net. Flynn was passed the puck while Ki fended off the overly aggressive Lonergan once again. The latter took his stick and slashed Ki’s lower back, sending him crashing onto the ice. The linesman signaled the referee about the penalty inflicted by Lonergan. Pla
y stopped and Lonergan got sent to the sin bin amidst boos and jeers from the highly charged crowd. A few fans went as far as to throw beer cans at the offender in protest. Security was quick to escort the troublemakers out of the arena. It was through pure willpower that I refrained from chucking a bottle at Lonergan myself.
“What an asshole,” I muttered to myself. I searched for Ki and saw him bent over, shaking his head. It was the second bad hit he’d taken in less than five minutes. There were only three minutes left in the third period in a dead heat with Miami. Emotions were running high on both sides and it seemed it didn’t matter who payed the price. I noticed Joe Wharton behind me. He paced back and forth while he spoke on the phone in low tones. God knew what he was up to at a crucial time like this. My focus was redirected to Ki, who was looking worse for wear but took the ice again. My heart was nearly in my throat as the tension rose between the two, desperate teams. This was where players tended to get reckless—even more than before—and get hurt due to the sport’s the aggressive nature, which was both thrilling and dangerous at the same time when a championship was involved.
“This is it,” Joe muttered to no one in particular.
I frowned. I hadn’t forgotten what I’d learned about his devious nature and the crimes the FBI accused him of. With all the evidence they’d presented me, there was no room for doubt. Joe was guilty of my kidnapping, and a slew of other crimes including assault and fraud. To be so near him now, gave me chills. Dread would continue to fill me until he was behind bars and out of my life. Until then, it was a waiting game and playing along with agent Bond’s plan to take Joe into custody. Luckily, agent Bond had people watching me, so Joe wasn’t a threat. Yet, their clandestine presence did little to assuage my anxiety with him being in such close proximity to me.
Lost in thought, I heard the horn sound, alerting a goal. I looked up to see Ki scoring the winning goal. The perfect ending to the game. Ki had gotten his coveted hattrick by scoring three goals in the same game. The Jumbotron displayed goal in large, flashing letters and replayed the winning goal. The Otters players surrounded Ki, lifted him off the ground, and carried him on their shoulders around the ice. The fans were screaming and shouting at our victory. I forgot all about Joe and reveled in Ki’s win. He looked up. Our eyes locked almost instinctively. I knew he was sharing this unforgettable occasion with me with a single look. My heart swelled. Life couldn’t be more perfect than in this instant. Ki got his win, the team got the Stanley Cup, and I had Ki and we were starting a new life together. The life I had dreamed about with Ki was finally coming to fruition. It almost seemed too good to be true.
Si Bellows demanded everyone’s attention for the presentation of the cup. A red carpet was rolled out onto the ice for the formal presentation. The team unanimously elected Ki to receive the cup. The Keeper of the Cup, Rory Danvers, made a speech I could barely hear over the cheering fans. The formalities over and done with, Ki held the cup over his head in triumph and solidarity with the fans and claimed victory as the best of the best in hockey.
Ki
I couldn’t believe it. I was holding the coveted cup. The Stanley Cup representing the Otters as the best team in hockey. In addition, I’d been awarded the Hart Memorial as most valuable player. I searched the stands to find Zoe smiling down at me. Pride and love coursed through me. This was our private moment. No one could intrude as our eyes locked and held each other with silent meaning. I held up the cup as a signal of victory in both my professional and personal life. We’d made it. Zoe and I. Life couldn’t be sweeter. Not even my aching muscles and sore upper abdomen could spoil this moment. I was high on adrenaline. The fans’ cheers drowned out the reporter interviewing me. I could scarcely understand a word she said. The noise in the arena was so deafening, I felt like I was in a fishbowl. A jolt of pain pierced my left shoulder. My grip slipped and I nearly dropped the cup. Flynn was quick to take the thirty-five-pound monstrosity off my hands. I gave him a wry smile and tried my best to concentrate on what another reporter that had come up to me asked. I yelled my reply but at this point I was barely aware of what he was asking. I looked around. The simple swivel of my head made me dizzy, more so when my animated teammates jostled me in celebration. I must be dehydrated from all the sweating I’d been doing beneath my heavy jersey and gear. I’d skated my ass off in the last period not to mention the hits that asshole Lonergan had inflicted on me. I wanted to beat the shit out of him for his dirty tactics, but I found justice when the official had sent him to the sin bin, so he could watch me score the winning goal. Served him right. Prick.
“Ki, you took a few brutal hits out there on the ice. How do you feel?” the blonde reporter asked me.
“It’s my job.” My eyes glazed over. Confusion settled in my brain. A sharp pain tore through my gut. I clenched my abdomen and nearly doubled over. Fuck. Maybe that asshole did inflict some damage after all with that blow to my back. My vision became blurry and I blinked rapidly trying to regain my bearings.
“Hey man, are you okay?”
I recognized Flynn’s voice, but the excruciating pain was too much for me to respond. I grabbed hold of his arm. Flynn was quick to shoulder my weight as the sweat from the pain poured off me. I’d taken hits before but never with such severe aftereffects. It was part of the game. Hockey wasn’t for the faint of heart. The aggressive nature of the players, the hard hits, and landing on the ice could end a player’s career with one strategic blow much like I feared Lonergan had landed.
“Get me out of here, Flynn.” I gritted through clenched teeth.
Another microphone was shoved in my face. Flynn deftly answered on my behalf. Thank fuck for Flynn. He had stepped up as a loyal friend despite our fucked-up past. Flynn motioned frantically at our trainer to come over. Don furrowed his brow and realized something was terribly wrong with me. My knees buckled, and I went down hard. I sensed people hovering over me and shouting instructions for a stretcher. An oxygen mask covered my mouth as the shadows began to creep in on me. Zoe. I struggled to get up, but two pairs of hands restrained me and bombarded me with words I could no longer understand.
“Flynn, where’s Zoe?”
“Ki, lay still.” Our trainer’s voice permeated my haze of pain.
“Get Zoe,” I mouthed to Flynn who was hovering nearby.
He pointed and said something to me, however, my mind couldn’t process it. Through hooded lids, I watched Don talking furiously to someone over his cell. Another wave of dizziness washed over me. I willed myself to stay awake until I knew Zoe was by my side. I needed to see her before something happened. Based on the frantic look on Don’s normally passive face, I could tell whatever was going on with me wasn’t good. My eyelids grew heavy and the pain dulled my senses. I fought my oncoming unconsciousness and tried to get up. Only to be prevented from moving once again. Zoe. I need Zoe. She was my world. I needed to see her. I resisted with all my might, but the darkness claimed me as I drifted away from the pain, and my love.
Chapter 15
Zoe
I stood frozen in place. Life inside the arena seemed to move in slow motion as if I had landed in some macabre dream sequence. The shock of seeing Ki lying unconscious with swarms of people surrounding him left me feeling hollow and helpless. Unsure what to do, the last person who I thought would come to my aid touched my shoulder. I turned around and came face to face with my father. He looked like he had aged overnight. The shock of silver of his hair seemed more defined and the etched lines on his face gave him a worn and weary look. This was a Jed Simmons I hadn’t seen before. He remained silent and pulled me into his arms. I remained stiff, unable to accept his gesture. Maybe it was our history, or I didn’t know how to accept affection from my own father any longer. I held myself rigid his arms. It didn’t really matter. The only thing I had on my mind was getting to Ki.
“Ki will be alright, Zoe,” my father rasped out. Rare emotion laced with affection filled his voice.
His self-assuredness e
ased my dark thoughts. Why couldn’t he have been this way when I’d lost my mother? I was devastated when she passed. And what did my father do? He withdrew from my life. We became virtual strangers who lived and worked together until I graduated from college and I got away from his oppressive presence. I think he was relieved when I left, and we went our separate ways despite the fact I still worked for the organization. We treated each other as mere colleagues without the familial attachments. I couldn’t breathe around him, let alone be myself. It wasn’t until Ki entered my life that things made sense again. I had begun to live once more. Ki breathed life into that blackness that had taken up residence in my soul. Until he appeared, I had just been going through the motions of daily living—detached and disconnected from those around me. I had been living in a world of my own and that suited me just fine. Ki had other ideas and I was so glad he did, otherwise I wouldn’t be carrying our child. Another wave of fear assailed me. What if Ki didn’t make it? My knees nearly gave out at the thought. I grabbed onto my father for support, tears streaming down my face.
“Zoe, listen to me when I tell you Ki will be all right. I know it. I need you to keep it together right now. Ki is relying on you to be strong. You have to be strong for my grandchild too.”
That my father knew of my pregnancy alarmed me. No one knew…unless Cami had decided to inform my father of my condition. The lengths that woman would go to despite my warnings of termination didn’t surprise me. Cami liked to live on the edge apparently.
“How did you find out?” I whispered.
“Your assistant is a corporate kiss-ass.” A shadow crossed his face
“Cami has a thing for Ki.”
“We’ll get rid of her.”
On Ice, A Hockey Romance Page 13