Page 22 of Dumping the Puck (Men of Havoc #4)

Wren and I sit across from Charley and Martin, my lawyer. He reads over the paperwork while we all sit in silence. At least Charley has the nerve to look sheepish over what she suggested, and instigated Wren to do with Cameron’s designer suits.

“Well. This honestly looks like a lot of bullshit, blowing smoke up your ass and trying to scare you into some kind of settlement. Not really sure why he wants the money, but it is what it is. If this has to go to court, we’ll win. As for the property destruction…” He looks around the table at the three of us.

“They just got messed up with Wren’s stuff. We hired packers and they took them by mistake. They’ll be returned to him when we can have a supervised drop-off.” Both Charley and Wren snap their heads in my direction. Because they know damn well that those suits are ashes in my fire pit.

“Perfect. As long as that’s taken care of then this defamation is going to get thrown out. Neither of you said anything. The video came from his own lips. And you aren’t the ones who recorded it, he can sue his mistress for that. Now, I’ll respond to this, and we’ll see what they respond with. In the meantime, no contact please. I’m going to do some digging into their financials to see why they’re coming after you for so much money. They clearly don’t need it, so what is the motive?”

He stands and we all follow suit, but only I follow him to the door. “Thanks so much for coming out to the house, Martin. I didn’t trust that they wouldn’t be waiting to attack when we left. You know what happened last time. I’m willing to bet that’s the same problem they’re facing now. But this is a lot more money than they wanted before.”

“A hell of a lot more. I’ll dig into it, see what I can find. You know your stepfather doesn’t hide his tracks well and there’s always a casino worker we can throw a couple hundred at for information.” He shakes my hand and steps out.

Sighing, I rub my hands through my hair. Replacing those suits is going to be a job for Charley today.

“Kayce…” Charley calls me tentatively.

“Wren, do you know exactly what suits were ruined?”

She nods.

“You and Charley need to go find those exact suits and buy them again.” I hand them my credit card. “And then rip the tags off, have them dry cleaned so that we have the receipt from today after we spoke to the lawyer. Got it?”

They both answer at the same time.

“Got it,” from Charley.

And from Wren, “I can’t let you pay for those suits, Johnny. They are worth so much money. It was an expensive mistake.”

“Girl. Shut up and take his credit card. There is no other way out of that. So it’s either you get sued for destruction of property or we take this card and go buy those suits. What’s it going to be?”

I can see the tears brimming in Wren’s eyes. “June, it’s fine. Take the card. Buy the suits, and it’s done. I know they’re up to something and this is the only bone I’m throwing him. Besides, I’m probably the one who bought the originals anyway.” I close my eyes thinking of the last time they tried to shake me down for money. “I’ve got to get to the stadium for another night of sitting in the suite with those asshats.” I kiss Wren on the forehead and run upstairs to shower and grab my suit.

I can’t wait for tonight.

I’m not sure how I’ve survived these last three games of suspension, but I’m finally on the last game. My mood since the lawsuit has been shit. I’m trying really hard to not let it affect my mood with Wren, but it’s fucking hard to put on a happy face for her.

Martin called me this morning and said he talked to some guys, and it looks like my fucking stepfather is in trouble again with the casino. Last time it was a hundred thousand, but who knows how much it is this time. Martin is going to work on getting a number at how deep they are in the hole. Just what I needed tonight.

Add to all this the fucking young kid was up my ass last night and he’s been ramping up. None of the guys had my back either. Not even Viktor, he just stood by and agreed with what the team was saying.

“Bicknelle,” Coach calls me into his office before the game starts.

“Yeah, Coach.”

“This is your last suspension game. I heard what happened last night with the young guns. They’re just trying to get under your skin because they think they’re going to get a chance. Don’t let them. We need you back.”

“I’ll try. They’re really big fucking pricks and it’s like someone is telling them every fucking button to push to piss me off.” I press my lips into a thin line. I don’t know who it is, but it’s gotta be someone on the team who knows me.

“Well just do me a favor and keep your shit together. I need you tomorrow night. We need you for the Ice Men. You know they play dirty and Sanders isn’t ready for them.”

“Will do, Coach.”

He nods and I know that I’m dismissed. I take the cue and leave, heading to the suite, mentally preparing myself to keep my shit together tonight.

When I arrive at the suite, I’m thankfully the only one here.

It doesn’t last long though. Within a few minutes the guys arrive, laughing together like they’re on the fucking team instead of the hopeful fill-ins with shit attitudes. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against kids coming into the league, just these two are assholes. There’s a reason they haven’t been called up yet for more than a game or two. They’re jerks to everyone and don’t understand the meaning of having a team. They just want to be the big shots, making all the play themselves.

I roll my eyes and groan to myself.

“You’re still here, Bicknelle?”

“Last game. Tomorrow I’ll be on the ice.” Unlike you two.

“You sure about that?” They both laugh at their dumbass joke and I know for sure they’re trying to goad me into a fight.

It’s the third period and Denver is playing fucking dirty as expected. What is worse is the fucking idiots next to me criticizing my teammates. Every play, every move, every penalty, they have something to fucking say. Their attitude is probably a big reason why they’re still in the minors.

I can see Viktor getting pissed at the dirty plays. I know his body language on the ice as well as mine. He’s got three guys on him, blocking him from doing anything. He finally gets a chance at the puck and high-hits the guy in front of him, causing a massive fight to break out on the ice.

“Karlsen is a fucking idiot.” One guy scoffs.

“At least he’s on the ice.” I mumble quietly to myself.

“Oh yeah? I don’t see you out there either. Maybe Karlsen will be up here next week, and pretty soon we’ll both be in your spots, because you two can’t get your shit together long enough to play a game this season.”

I press my lips together and take a deep breath. Do not react, do not react.

“Nothing to say now?”

“Nope.” I stare straight ahead at the shit show that is happening on the ice with my team.

I can’t believe I’m not down there. I want to be fighting with my team. I clench my fists together. Getting more pissed each passing second the refs are fighting to get control on the ice.

I listen to these idiots make their comments the rest of the game before I flee to the locker room as soon as that final buzzer sounds. I just want to be with my team. To have their backs when they get off the ice.

The team files in, throwing their gear and living in pissed off silence. It was a tough loss, and the other team played extra dirty with our rookie.

Viktor spots me sitting on the bench in front of our lockers.

“Hey. Tough game,” I say quietly so only he hears.

“Yeah, it was fucking tough. Especially without you.” He all but spits at me.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll win, and they won’t get the chance to play dirty like they did tonight.”

“Yeah.” He walks away without another word to the showers.

Sanders comes over to me. “Fuck man, are they always that bad?”

“Denver sucks. Their coaching encourages it. There’s rumors that he pays them per penalty. No one’s ever confirmed it, but based on how they play I’d believe it.” I stand, feeling awkward in the locker room for the first time. Sanders is the only one even looking at me.

“Would’ve been nice to have you out there tonight, Bicknelle.” Joaquin walks by us on the way to the showers, his eyes narrow as he talks to me.

“I’m back tomorrow.” He rolls his eyes in response.

“Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.

“Yeah, they’re pretty pissed at you.” Sanders shrugs his shoulders. “I tried my hardest, man. I did. But damn. You’re big shoes to fill.”

“You did great. No one expected you to be me. I’ve been on this team for almost ten years, along with most of the guys. We have a comfort on the ice that you’ll learn. It becomes a dance that you just get really good at.”

“Thanks man, I’m grateful to have you as a mentor.” He slaps me on the shoulder and heads off to the showers himself. He passes Viktor on the way out.

“You doing press?” Viktor asks me as he pulls a shirt on.

“No. I’m going to let Sanders do it. He deserves the time after how he played tonight and held his own against them.”

“He’s good. But, you better be back tomorrow, because I’d rather have you and Sanders than Sanders and that asshat that got called up.” I hand him the suit jacket next to me on the bench.

“Don’t get me started on those assholes. I’ve just had to spend the last ten games listening to their fucking bullshit and not punching them.” I roll my eyes at the memory.

This makes him laugh and breaks some of the tension simmering between us.

“Bring Wren tomorrow. Calliope and Aksel will be here. Might as well tell Charley to come too while you’re at it.”

“I’m sure they’re both together at my house right now so I’ll check with them when I get home.”

He nods and walks away to the press rooms. At least he’s not still mad at me. That’s my favorite thing about Viktor. He might be pissed, but he doesn’t hold grudges against people, except the Ice Men. I don’t know if he’ll ever tell anyone the true story behind his trade from them to the Havoc.

Now that I’ve talked to the guys and made up with at least Viktor, it’s time to go home to Wren.