Sin Bin

by Maureen Smith

  The girls laughed at her.

  “Sorry, chica, but no haps,” Ana teased unsympathetically. “You’re dating a popular sex symbol, so you’re gonna have to get used to women lusting after him. Including your friends.”

  The others broke out into laughter.

  Meadow found herself both dreading and anticipating the commercial. When it premiered during the pregame show, she was perched on the edge of her seat just like everyone else.

  The opening shot showed Logan framed in silhouette against the ropes of a boxing ring, the background bathed in fog. His powerful chest was bare and he was wearing black boxing shorts that sat low enough on his hips to reveal the deep grooves of his V muscle, drawing lustful sighs around the room.

  “Are you ready?” a spine-tingling whisper floated up out of the darkness.

  The haunting violin strings of the Raging Bull theme song could be heard playing in the background. As Logan began shadowboxing in the ring, the camera slowly panned up over his shuffling feet, his muscular calves, his round ass, the rippling muscles of his huge shoulders and tattooed biceps. When pulses were racing and panties were soaked, the camera zoomed in on a single bead of sweat trickling down the deep ridges of his ripped abs.

  Breathy squeals broke out across the room.

  Just before the glistening droplet of sweat disappeared below Logan’s waistband, his massive gloved fist came barreling straight toward the camera. Snapped out of their lust-induced trance, the girls gasped and instinctively ducked as his fist connected with the jaw of an opponent. Blood and spit flew, splashing the camera lens.

  In the blink of an eye, the boxing ring became a noisy ice rink. The giant television screen exploded with images of Logan brawling during hockey games, throwing haymakers with ruthless precision. The camera shook from the impact of each punishing blow.

  Before viewers could catch their breath from the display of brutal male aggression, the commercial cut to a wide shot of Logan partying with friends at a nightclub. He looked amazeballs in a slick gray designer suit with a white shirt open at the neck. He was moving through the crowd, nodding to the beat of a bachata song as a beautiful mocha woman shimmied up to him. He smiled and started dancing with her, winding his hips and hypnotizing the audience with his wickedly sensual moves.

  Looking over the woman’s shoulder, he gave a sexy little wink before the camera abruptly cut to a shot of him and his posse erupting from Vegas’s MGM Grand to the hard-pounding rhythm of LL Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out.”

  Logan was wearing a hooded black boxing robe with Bruiser emblazoned in gold on the back. He was grinning broadly and appeared to be celebrating a victory. Someone handed him a cigar from a lacquered humidor. He ran the stogie under his nose, savoring the aroma before he tucked it between his sexy lips. When the cigar was lit for him, Meadow found herself holding her breath, waiting to see if he would take a puff, if he would break league rules by smoking onscreen.

  He lifted those midnight eyes to the camera and flashed a devilish smile that perfectly highlighted his bad boy reputation. Then he flicked the lit cigar to the ground. It fell in slow motion, the embers burning bright.

  He crushed out the cigar with his skate, the steel blade glinting dangerously. The camera panned up his body to reveal him now wearing black hockey pants with a long-sleeved black Under Armour shirt. The tight-fitting compression fabric hugged the defined muscles of his chest like it had been expressly made for him.

  Glistening from a workout, he sat on the locker room bench and began taping his hockey stick, a fierce warrior gearing up for battle.

  Suddenly the background music exploded into Mobb Deep’s “Shook Ones Part II.” The ominous track played over shots of Logan torpedoing around the ice, shredding defenders with his speed, knocking them off their skates and scoring jaw-dropping goals.

  Meadow shivered as the exciting montage faded away and Logan skated slowly toward the camera, a spotlight illuminating him in all his hulking menace.

  “Are you ready?” the raspy voiceover asked viewers.

  Logan punched his gloved fists together and smiled a chilling smile, his icy breath curling like smoke from his lips as he whispered, “Let’s go.”

  As the last notes of the gangster anthem trailed off, the distinctive Under Armour logo slammed onto the screen before it faded to black.

  The room erupted in screams.

  Bianca, Scarlett, Jess and Ana fell to the floor, pretending to faint.

  Meadow and Nadia laughed, vigorously fanning themselves.

  “Lawd Jesus!” Bianca wailed from the floor. “These boys are killing me with these commercials!”

  There was a raucous chorus of laughter.

  “Whew,” Nadia breathed, her cheeks flushed. “That commercial should come with an advisory warning. I wasn’t ready for all that.”

  “I know, right?” Scarlett agreed breathlessly. “Some parts of it felt hella X-rated, especially when he was dancing and working those damn hips!”

  “Girl, yes!” Ana launched into a lusty stream of Spanish, setting off fresh peals of laughter.

  “I’ll be right back, y’all,” Jess announced. “I need to go change my underwear!”

  The room rocked with bawdy howls and squeals.

  Bianca picked herself up off the floor, collapsed into her seat and grinned enviously at Meadow. “Have you danced with Bachata Bae yet?”

  She smiled. “No. Not yet.”

  Ana chortled. “I hope you’re on the pill, mama, because dancing with that man is gonna get you pregnant!”

  More hysterical laughter ensued.

  Nadia’s phone buzzed with a text alert. “The driver’s here! C’mon, girls, our chariot awaits!”

  They grabbed their handbags and headed out, whooping excitedly when they saw the gleaming black Maybach limo parked at the curb. The uniformed driver waited patiently while they took selfies in front of Reid’s stunning wood-and-glass house, and then by the stretch limo.

  As they piled into the backseat and set off for the arena, the girls resumed gushing over Logan’s commercial and drawing breathy comparisons to Reid’s mega-popular Gatorade commercial.

  They rode to the game in style, drinking champagne and shimmying along to bachata music. They were halfway to the arena when Jess, Bianca and Ana started throwing back vodka shooters.

  Scarlett eyed them enviously. “I would totally do shots with y’all if I didn’t have to perform tonight. If my mom even suspects that I’m tipsy while singing the anthem, she’ll have a fucking fit.”

  “She sure will.” Nadia laughed. “She’s already mad at you for wearing jeans tonight. Remember how she made you dress up when you sang at the Tampa Bay game?”

  Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

  Ana waved her glass at Scarlett. “What’s the problem? You looked and sounded amazing that night. Plus the video went viral, increasing your popularity and the band’s. That’s what you call a win-win.” She tossed back another shot and giggled naughtily. “Your brother’s gonna kill me if I show up drunk. He’s such a stick in the mud!”

  “Ooh, I’m telling!” Scarlett tattled.

  Everyone cracked up laughing.

  When they arrived at the Pepsi Center, the driver hopped out and held the rear door open for them. They felt like celebrities as they were ushered to a special entrance that allowed them to bypass the long lines and security checks.

  Their escort took them to the upper level suites, where Meadow was introduced to Nadia and Scarlett’s families. Next they headed off to say hello to Scarlett’s bandmates. The guys had their own suite, which they were sharing with their roadies and some handpicked groupies.

  Meadow felt a little starstruck when Scarlett introduced her to her bandmates. Traeger, Gage, Ryu and Zander were seriously good-looking, and they exuded the cool charisma of bona fide rock stars.

  She found herself blushing when Traeger kissed the back of her hand, his blue eyes glinting with wicked misch
ief.

  “Hello, Meadow.” Her name rolled off his tongue like poetry. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  Scarlett smacked his tattooed arm. “Cut it out, Romeo. She’s taken.”

  “Is that so?” Undeterred, Traeger smiled and moved closer to Meadow. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  Scarlett smirked at him. “Bruiser.”

  Traeger backed off so quickly that everyone burst out laughing.

  Scarlett and her bandmates needed to finalize their set list before they performed. So Meadow and the others left them and headed down to their seats, still accompanied by an escort.

  Meadow, Nadia and Jess were attracting plenty of attention in their customized denim jackets. People pointed and stared at them as they walked past. Their expressions ranged from curious to delighted to downright jealous. The jealousy came from bunnies, who looked them up and down and rolled their eyes. At the same time, they were stopped by a number of gushing women who wanted to take a selfie with the star players’ girlfriends. It was a weird dichotomy, being simultaneously celebrated and despised for who you were dating. Meadow didn’t think she would ever get used to it.

  With twenty minutes to go before puck drop, the Pepsi Center was rocking. The stands were packed, the music was pumping and the air was positively electric.

  Meadow and the girls had phenomenal seats right behind the home team’s bench. As they sat down and began chattering enthusiastically, Meadow could feel her heart pounding with nervous anticipation.

  It had been an emotionally grueling week for Logan. Though his mood had improved over the past two days, she knew he was still reeling from his father’s visit and the devastating revelations about his mother. Every time she looked into his eyes, she could see how much he was grappling with his feelings about the past. Being there for him was her top priority, but she knew she couldn’t save him. She knew better than to even try.

  As she sat in that electrified arena surrounded by thousands of excited fans, she reflected on the ways hockey had changed Logan’s life and given him purpose and joy. As the clock ticked closer to seven o’clock, she hoped and prayed he would be able to channel his pain and anger into playing the game he loved.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  LOGAN

  * * *

  “Listen up, gentlemen.”

  You could hear a pin drop when Hunter strode to the middle of the locker room. All eyes followed him as he began prowling up and down like a field general, looking every player in the eye while the coaches stood back and let him do his thing.

  “It’s do or die time, boys. We need everybody to step up tonight. Everything matters. Every shift, every play, every decision you make—every fucking thing matters.”

  A hearty murmur of agreement went up from the group.

  Hunter looked evenly around the room. “No mental hangups. No distractions. Let’s go out there as a team, reach way down deep and lay everything on the ice. Everything, you hear me? Everything you got,” he commanded, pacing in front of his teammates. “You know what they’re saying? They’re saying we got this in the bag. That the series is pretty much over. Fuck that. You go out there and fight like an underdog, like your very life depends on it. Give no quarter, boys. Show no fucking mercy.”

  As the team roared and stomped their skate-clad feet, Hunter’s sweeping gaze came to rest on Logan. He gave an imperceptible nod.

  Logan nodded back.

  Hunter looked around with an almost sinister smile. “Now let’s go fuck some shit up.”

  A tribal roar erupted over the locker room.

  Hunter led the team down the tunnel to the pounding grind of Off The Grid’s “Fahrenheit 32.” Everyone was fired up and focused, ready to get out there and wreck shop.

  When the team was announced, they exploded from the tunnel and poured onto the ice to thunderous cheers and applause. They skated in every direction, feeding off the invigorating energy and excitement of their fans.

  Logan was already scanning the sea of faces for Jupiter. His heart skyrocketed when he saw her behind the Rebels’ bench. She was on her feet clapping and cheering, her face glowing brighter than the fiery pyrotechnics exploding over the ice.

  When she beamed at him, everything inside him lit up.

  Over the deafening cacophony of noise, he could hear his name being chanted, could hear women squealing and screaming their devotion.

  But nothing else mattered but Jupiter.

  Her belief in him. Her faith and trust.

  Her loyalty.

  Her friendship.

  But most of all…her love.

  * * *

  MEADOW

  * * *

  An electric thrill shot up Meadow’s spine when she locked eyes with Logan. Her heart was racing so fast, she thought it would take flight and soar right out of her chest.

  The sellout crowd was screaming and roaring like maniacs, showing their appreciation for the team and the dazzling fireworks display.

  All of that faded away as Meadow and Logan stared at each other. The connection lasted for the span of three heartbeats before he patted his heart, grinned and skated off.

  A few minutes later, Scarlett sang the national anthem and nearly brought the house down. As the crowd showered her with resounding applause and whistles, Viggo grinned broadly and puffed out his chest. He couldn’t have looked more proud.

  The Rebels came out of the gates firing on all cylinders. Hunter, Viggo and Logan looked super explosive as they charged up and down the ice, passing the puck around and firing a barrage of shots. Reid and Dmitri were giving the opposing forwards all they could handle, forcing them into the boards and stripping the puck at will. Sergei looked sharp in the net, making save after save on shots coming at him from all angles.

  When Logan scored the first goal, a thunderous roar exploded over the arena.

  Meadow and the girls were on their feet screaming like banshees as Logan grinned broadly and pumped his fist while ecstatic chants of “Bruiser, Bruiser, Bruiser!” boomed through the crowd.

  After celebrating with his linemates, he skated back to the bench to slap gloves with the rest of the team.

  Meadow watched him enter the bench area, her heart bursting with pride and joy as he tapped the Plexiglas with his glove and winked at her. She laughed warmly and placed her hand against the glass where his glove rested. When his grin softened, she winked and blew him a kiss, which he pretended to catch over the glass.

  She didn’t realize their tender little moment had played out on the JumboTron until a collective “Awww” swept through the crowd.

  Heat flooded her cheeks as the girls giggled delightedly and hugged her. When she sat back down, her phone buzzed with a text from her boss: You have to come to every home game! That’s an order!

  Meadow grinned and showed the text to the girls, who fell out laughing.

  “You’ve definitely gotta use that get-out-of-work-free card!” Jess asserted.

  “I sure would!” Bianca declared.

  Four minutes later, Hunter let rip with one of those cannonball slap shots that had earned him the nickname “HD.” The horn blared as the crowd exploded into wild cheering and foot stomping.

  The celebrating had barely subsided when Viggo fired the puck into the net, driving the crowd into a fever-pitched frenzy. Scarlett was jumping up and down, screaming at the top of her lungs. Meadow hoped she wouldn’t make herself hoarse before her next performance.

  The Rebels had jumped out to a three-goal lead before Tyler Seguin scored for Dallas. A storm of booing swept across the arena as the star center and his linemates hugged.

  The team’s bubble was burst within minutes when Reid stole the puck from a Dallas winger and backhanded it into the net. The stands erupted with riotous cheers and chants of “Rocket, Rocket, Rocket!”

  Increasingly frustrated and demoralized, Dallas players started getting chippy. After losing a board battle to Logan, an opposing defenseman threw an elbow at his hea
d. Though he only managed to graze his helmet, the dirty play drew boos and hisses from the outraged crowd. Logan wasn’t having it either.

  Meadow’s stomach knotted as the two players dropped their sticks and gloves, flung their helmets to the ice and put up their fists, circling each other as excited murmurs rippled through the arena. The defenseman was big and bulky. He was what they called an enforcer, the type of player who struck fear in opponents’ hearts. Of course, Logan was no lightweight either.

  The defenseman threw the first punch. Logan ducked and counterpunched with blinding speed, slamming his fist into the guy’s cheek.

  The crowd roared their approval and pounded the glass, boisterously chanting Logan’s nickname.

  The big defenseman managed to land a hit before Logan unleashed a flurry of brutal jabs and punches that rocked the guy’s head back with every blow.

  Unable to counterattack, the defenseman lowered his head and grabbed Logan, trying to avoid his relentless punches. Logan shoved him away and resumed throwing uppercuts, walloping the guy’s face until he fell to his knees. That was when the referees broke up the fight, hauling Logan back before he could deliver a knockout punch.

  Chest heaving with unspent fury, he spat out a mouthful of blood and skated around in a tight circle while sneering at his fallen opponent. The defenseman’s face was bloodied and he looked downright woozy. He struggled to get to his feet, but his skates kept sliding out from under him. The referees had to help him, much to the crowd’s jeering amusement.

  As the two brawlers skated off to their respective penalty boxes, “Shook Ones” came blasting over the speakers, taunting the Dallas player.

  The crowd burst into appreciative laughter. Even Logan smirked darkly.

  Scarlett and Jess were hooting and high fiving some fans seated behind them. “That was almost as good as the commercial!” they crowed.

  Nadia looked at Meadow and started rubbing her back. “Are you okay?”

  She gave a shaky nod. “That was intense. I mean, I used to see Logan fight all the time when we were kids, but…wow.”