Page 107 of Forbidden Hockey

“Yeah. We can talk upstairs. You can get back to work now, Dirk.”

Dirk. He rarely calls me Dirk anymore. “Yeah, no chance in hell, Trav. I’m coming.”

The arguments are waiting to spill off his tongue. This guy is his past come to haunt him, someone he’s wanted to keep far away from his new life. But this is what he invites in when he makes deals with the devil. He’s gotta see that, and me in the same room with “Blaze” is the wake-up call he needs.

“Alright, c’mon.”

Chapter

Nineteen

Trav

Iwanted to kill him, which doesn’t say much about the man I’ve become. The years distance me from my old life, but one trigger, and I’m back there, using my fists to solve my problems. Blaze, with a hand on my man, that’ll do it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ve taken great pains to keep them out of my new life.

Blaze explains. It was Maxwell. He sent someone up north with a message that I needed help. My biker brethren might be violent, vulgar, uncouth motherfuckers, but they value loyalty above all else. Showing up was about the only thing they could do. Calls and other forms of communication are kept to a minimum—too traceable. Even my annual trip isn’t planned in detail. I’m supposed to show up “for two weeks every year”. So long as I show, we’re good. I usually go at the beginning of the summer, because that’s when it works for me.

Dirk gets him set up with a beer, which I didn’t fucking authorize, nor do I appreciate it. I want him far, far away from Blaze. I almost told him to go to Hunter’s. Hell, I almost calledHunter. But it was too late, anyway. Blaze has already seen Dirk, and from the way he keeps leering at him, he must know we’re together. He’s an asshole like that—it was a way our crew liked to test to see how serious we were about someone.

“Keep your ass over there,” I tell Dirk. “I’m letting you stay, but you’re gonna stay where I tell you to.”

“Wow. Thank you, sir. Is this the part where I pretend to be good?” he says, being a sarcastic brat.

He’s the one trying to prove a point, but maybe he needs a lesson, too.

Blaze chuckles low and rough. “You gonna let him talk to you like that, Trav? Damn. You’ve gone soft. If you were mine, you wouldn’t smart-mouth me like that twice.”

There’s no teasing tone, just an underlying threat. Dirk’s shoulders lock, and it’s sinking in—Blaze is the kind of predator that doesn’t chase, he studies. By the time you feel the danger, you’ve already been marked.

“That’s enough, Blaze.” With Dirk sequestered to the kitchen and Blaze on the couch, I cross my arms over my chest and lean against a wall that’s roughly in the middle, putting myself between them. “What were you told?”

Blaze kicks his muddy boots onto my couch, making himself comfortable. He takes a long sip of beer, wiping the blood off his chin with the back of his hand. “We were told that the asshole who took your son’s getting outta prison, and you might need our help.”

I bet Maxwell made it sound urgent, too, because they don’t send someone for nothing, especially not when I’ll be going to them soon.

Dirk’s gaze burns into my skin, waiting for what I’ll say.

“It’s complicated. I’ll reach out if I need you.”

“It wasn’t just the message; it was the fact we got one at all. Didn’t sit right with us. Dom wanted me to check on yah.” Blazefinishes his beer, swirling the bottle in Dirk’s direction. “I’ll take another, sweet cheeks.”

“No,” I bark.

“Wasn’t gonna, Trav. He can get his own damn beer.”

“Okay, I see why you like him,” Blaze says. “He’s fun.”

Blaze lounges like he’s planning to stay awhile, water dripping off his jacket, and it’s his grin that gets me. That grin was the start of a lot of trouble. It wasn’t all debt collecting and brass knuckles. We had fun, too.

Dirk uncrosses and recrosses his arms, studying my every move, probably my expressions, too, attempting to decipher my grand plan. But I don’t have one. Maxwell planted his rotten seed, and it was left to grow vines, choking me for all he cares.

“Tell Dom I’m fine. I appreciate the house call, but I’ve got it handled.”

He nods. “At least you know we’ve got your back. Christ, Trav.”

Setting the bottle on the coffee table, he stands up, hard boots clipping his way over to me. “Don’t wait too long to visit us this summer, eh? I know you got a pretty thing here, but distractions are dangerous.”

Blaze looks around like he can’t quite decide if he should stay or go.