Page 108 of Break the Ice

A completely unexpected turn of events, but I don’t let it faze me. Dead bodies are a dime a dozen at this point. I’m more focused on getting Marisse out of this situation and beating the hell out of whoever deserves it.

“First we should settle on a story,” Gomez says. He taps his foot against the side of Jerry’s limp body to gesture to her. “This one throws a wrench in the situation. She was so loud and hysterical, I had to off her. We have what we need to pin Hawk and Blackman on Ms. March. But what about this one? Should we say she caught her, and Ms. March offed her?”

Dad scrubs a hand over his beard. “That could work, I suppose. You’re certain no one saw the three of you at the training facility?”

“Positive. It was empty. Everybody was at the Climate Pledge for the game.”

“Excellent.”

“We’ve already got the texts Jerry was sending her. I know a guy in Cyber Crimes that’s damn good at Photoshop. He could probably manipulate some texts and emails. Make it fail proof that Jerry asked to meet tonight?—”

Gomez’s eyes fall on me and he interrupts himself. I’m not sure what I’m expecting when he sees I’ve been eavesdropping the whole time, but relief isn’t it.

He lets out a sigh, then juts his chin, signaling for Dad to turn around.

Dad’s face flits from surprise to uncertainty, then with a forced smile, he settles on welcoming. “Rafe, I didn’t hear you. Did the game finish?”

“You would’ve known that if you hadn’t left a few minutes into third period.”

“I had things…” Dad trails off for a second. “I’m handling the mess I told you about.”

“We figured it would be best to leave you out of it,” Detective Gomez says with a shrug. “Your job’s to be the hockey superstar. The VIP. Let us handle the hard work.”

I have no clue what the fuck makes Gomez think I’m on their team. He must not realize Dad and I are not only on bad terms, but that I’m not about to let them use Marisse.

My eyes link with hers from where she’s seated. Her gorgeous face has softened, her eyes still round. Hope flickers in them, speaking for her in the moment. She’s pleading for help. She’s wondering if she can trust me.

This is the moment where I’ll either rise to the occasion or prove her doubt was justified.

I make up my mind, tearing my gaze from hers and stuffing my hands in the pockets of my joggers. Suddenly, I’m cool, unaffected by what’s going on around me.

“Winning a few hockey games is cake. I want to get my hands a little dirty.”

Gomez grins. “Then you’re just in time. Should we get started finishing off this frame job?”

29. Rafe

Frame job.

Two short words that explain so much.

I’m not sure if I’m able to keep my face as neutral as it should be as I stand at the front of the room. I’m not typically the kind of guy that keeps his cool. I’m known as a chaotic hothead for a reason.

Dad seems more suspicious than Gomez. His brows snap closer as he peers over at me and says, “Rafe, this doesn’t concern you. I’ve made it clear I’ll handle everything. You just need to stay out of trouble.”

“How about you lay it on the table first? Tell me everything that’s fucking going on.”

I have an idea, but I need to hear the words from Dad himself. I need confirmation that it’s really what it looks like.

“You have to forgive Rafe, detective,” Dad says in a breezy tone. The same one he uses when he puts his politically correct businessman hat on. “I never really filled him in on what’s going on.”

My jaw clenches. “Then how about you hurry the hell up and do it?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We had to do something about Hawk,” Dad answers. “For once in your life, Rafe, don’t be difficult. Just accept what needed to happen.”

The flimsy hold on my chaotic temperament slips away. I can feel myself about to erupt. I’m about to go scorched earth.

So much for playing it cool.