Page 29

Chapter 29

Gemma

I had convinced myself a public place was safer than sitting at home waiting for a hitman to find me. I was under no illusion that my father would deign to dirty his hands and carry out the job himself. He might act like a big man, but he was a coward.

But even with my mental chanting that they’d never risk taking me out where there were tens of thousands of civilians who could be caught in the crossfire, my heart raced, and my gaze darted around, eyeing each person I passed with suspicion.

I found my seat during the point between the main on-ice warmup for the teams and the national anthem. Sasha had secured me the same one as the last game I’d attended, right behind the net where he would be positioned during the first and third periods.

As much as I wanted a drink to settle my anxiety, I needed to remain on high alert at all times. The minute I let my guard down was when the strike would happen.

“Gemma!” A breathless voice cried over the steady rumble of chatter surrounding me.

Scanning for the source, I turned to find Bristol waving both arms over her head, standing in the aisle.

Mumbling words of thanks to those who stood from their seats so I could pass, I reached the pink-cheeked pregnant redhead, exclaiming, “Bristol! You’re pregnant!”

She blew out a heavy breath, which lifted the hair away from her face. “Why does everyone keep pointing that out like I don’t know?”

“Sorry,” I apologized in a rush, having been witness to her hormonal mood swings and not wanting to make myself a target of them. “What are you doing down here?”

The concern in her blue eyes had the hairs on the back of my neck raising before she said the words that would shift my world on its axis. “Goose never made it to the rink.”

Blood rushed in my ears. “What?”

My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I whipped it out, praying it was Sasha.

Any hope I had died when I saw the text preview on my lock screen.

Unknown Number: Did you really think the life I took as payment would be yours?

“Gemma?” Bristol’s voice sounded distant, like she was at the far end of a tunnel. “Gemma, what’s wrong?”

Her hand gripping my arm brought me back to reality.

“We tried calling him, but—”

“I need his address,” I cut her off.

Her brow furrowed, and her lips turned down. “You don’t have his address?”

There wasn’t time for explanations; every second wasted could be the difference between life and death for Sasha.

“Address, Bristol. Now!”

The tiniest yelp left her lips at my harsh tone, but her shaky hands reached for the hidden pocket of her dress. Producing a phone, she tapped on the screen, turning it around so I could see the address attached to Sasha’s contact information. I took a quick pic and bolted up the concrete steps, praying it wasn’t too late.

Flying down the freeway, following the GPS instructions to Sasha’s house, I hit dial on my phone, the ringing coming through the speakers of my car.

The line connected. “Gem—”

“I swear to God, if you had anything to do with this, I will kill you with my bare hands!” I screamed, rage taking over as I weaved in and out of traffic toward suburban Indianapolis.

Enzo paused before speaking. “Gemma, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You better not,” I gritted out.

“What’s going on?”

“Fucking Dad came to see me a few weeks back.”

“And you’re just calling me now? What the hell, Gemma?”

I rolled my eyes. “Assumed you already knew.”

“Seriously? After all I’ve done for you?” If I listened hard enough, I could hear a trace of hurt in his tone.

Then I remembered how I’d been found. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Did he hurt you?” There was a steel edge to his voice.

“I-I thought he was going to.” My voice broke. “He said I owed him a life.”

“A life? Why would you owe him a life?”

“Apparently, I incurred a debt at birth. For not being born a boy.”

Enzo cursed under his breath. “Bastard.”

“Did you know?”

“I told you, I didn’t—”

“No. I mean, did you know when that video went viral? Who that man was? The one I was screaming at?”

Traffic slowed to a crawl, and I beat my hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

“Did you know?!” I screamed when Enzo remained silent, my patience wearing thin.

“Yeah, Gem. I knew.”

“And you didn’t think to warn me?”

“Warn you about what? You’re not making any sense.”

He was right, I wasn’t. And this wasn’t his fault. Even if I’d known who Sasha was earlier, it wouldn’t have changed anything. Once he set his sights on me, it was game over. I was no match for his determination to make me his.

“Gemma, why are we talking about a professional goalie you flipped out on at a DMV months ago?” Enzo’s voice echoed through the car.

I squeezed my eyes shut and admitted the truth. “Because I’m in love with him, and I think Dad had him killed instead of me.”

“Um.” There was a pause, and I was sure he was trying to figure out how I went from one extreme to the other when it came to Sasha. Good luck to him. I still had no idea, but it didn’t change the truth. “What makes you think Dad put a hit out on him?”

“He didn’t show up for the game tonight. Then I got a message from an unknown number taunting me that I was stupid enough to think my life would be the one they took.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me see what I can find out, and I’ll—”

“Shit.” The reason for the standstill on the freeway came into view when I saw flashing lights on the other side. “I gotta go.”

“Gemma, wait—”

I flung my door open and ran the length of the barrier until I caught sight of several police cars, a fire truck, and a flatbed tow truck. That side of the freeway was completely closed off to traffic, and a twisted hunk of electric blue metal had my breath catching in my throat.

No, no, no. Please, God, no.

Running on pure adrenaline, I climbed the concrete wall. With panic clouding my vision, I misjudged the height of it coming down the other side, crashing onto my knees, hissing at the sting when my jeans ripped, my flesh burning as it tore open.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed off the ground and ran as fast as my injured legs could carry me toward Sasha’s beat-up car.

A police officer in tactical gear saw me on approach and held up his hands. “Ma’am, you can’t be over here. Return to your vehicle.”

Ignoring him, I didn’t slow my pace. The air was forced from my lungs when an arm banded around my waist, but my legs kept kicking, trying to run, even though I was being restrained.

“Let me go!” I screamed, desperation surging through my veins.

“This is a contained crash scene,” the officer grunted, trying to contain my wild limbs.

“Where is he?!” My top priority was laying eyes on Sasha, and bile rose up my throat when I realized that might occur inside a morgue.

A second officer approached us, arms folded over his chest. “Ma’am, we’re gonna need you to calm down. Think you can do that?”

I shook my head. “No. Not until you tell me where the owner of that vehicle is.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You know the owner?”

My neck screamed in pain with how violently I nodded, breathing out, “Yes, Sasha Gusev. Is he—” I couldn’t bring myself to ask the question, but my tears must have gotten the message across.

Tugging on the back of his neck, the officer standing opposite me sighed. “He was unconscious but breathing when they took him away.”

Relief hit me so hard that I sagged in the first officer’s hold. “Where?” I demanded.

“If I had to guess, the closest Level 1 Trauma Center. Which in this case would be Indianapolis General downtown.”

Fuck. I’d just come from that direction, and with all the rubberneckers, it would be a while before I could get my car turned around and headed back that way.

“Is that Goose’s girl?” a voice called out, and my head whipped up to find a firefighter approaching us.

“Hasn’t said as much, but that’s the vibe I’m getting.” The officer behind me finally removed his arm from my waist, but when I crumpled to the ground, he cursed and crouched beside me. “You okay?”

“No,” I whispered. I wouldn’t be okay until I knew Sasha was going to survive.

The firefighter knelt before me, eyeing my scraped knees. “Think you can make it over to the truck? I can clean this out for you.”

“I’m fine,” I protested. “Just need to get to Sasha.”

Sad brown eyes stared at me, and I wanted to yell that I didn’t want his pity, but my energy was zapped. “How about I make you a deal? You let me take care of your minor case of road rash, and we’ll give you a lift into the city.”

Swallowing, I nodded my agreement, and he looped an arm around my waist to help me stand up.

I hobbled with his support over to the fire truck, sitting on the edge of a stamped metal staircase along the side. Wincing while he cleaned my wounds, I mumbled a “thank you” when he finished bandaging the broken skin with thick white gauze.

Snapping his case of first aid implements closed, he declared, “Let’s get moving.”

I burst through the double doors to the emergency room of Indianapolis General Hospital, rushing toward the intake desk. “Gusev,” I forced out. “Sasha Gusev. Car accident. Is he here?”

The nurse stood, grabbing a tablet and tapping on it. “Yes. They brought him in about an hour ago.”

Fingers gripping the edge of the counter, I begged, “I need to see him.”

She frowned at whatever information she read on the screen. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

The worst-case scenario flashed before my eyes as the room began to spin and darkness crept into the corners of my vision. I vaguely recalled someone shouting and the sensation of falling, but I was numb to it all as I let the darkness drag me under.

I sat bolt upright with a gasp. Scanning the room, I found myself in a curtained-off area atop a gurney.

Instantly, memories rushed back.

Sitting inside Speed Arena and Bristol dropping the bomb that Sasha never arrived for the game.

Receiving an ominous text vaguely suggesting Sasha’s life was in danger.

Driving down the freeway toward his house, only to come upon a crash site.

Discovering the crumpled mess of metal they’d somehow dragged his body out of alive.

Arriving at the hospital, only to be told I couldn’t see him, and my mind immediately assuming he’d died from his injuries.

My world going black.

An accelerated beeping sound grated on my nerves, and suddenly, the curtain was pushed aside, and a smiling woman in blue scrubs chirped, “Looks like someone’s awake.”

How could she be so happy when my world was falling apart?

Peeking down, I found the source of the beeping. A monitor had been affixed to my chest, measuring my heart rate. I ripped it off, hissing at the adhesive’s resistance to leave my skin.

Shifting my legs over the side of the gurney, I declared, “I need to get out of here.”

My toes had barely touched the ground when the woman asked, “Are you a friend or family of Mr. Gusev’s?”

I froze, my head snapping up to stare at her. Very quickly, I noticed that she was speaking in the present tense when referring to Sasha. That meant he was still alive.

When I remained mute, she shot me a pointed look. “I’ll ask again. Are you a friend or family ?”

Her emphasis on that second option flipped a switch in my brain, and I understood the assignment.

Without hesitation, I declared, “I’m his wife.”

A smile crept onto her face, and she nodded. “That’s what I thought. If you can promise to sit tight, I’ll see what I can do about tracking down the doctor in charge of his care.”

Swallowing, I pulled my legs back onto the gurney, hugging them to my chest. “Thank you.”

She gave my knee a squeeze and disappeared. What felt like an eternity later, she returned, this time with a man with graying hair and a white coat, signifying he was a doctor.

“Mrs. Gusev?” he asked.

Wetting my lips, I lifted my chin. “That’s me.”

“I’m Dr. Vance. I’m heading up the team that’s taking care of your husband after his accident.”

“Is he—” I took a steadying breath. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Right now, he’s in critical condition but stable. When he first arrived, we performed a CT scan that revealed a brain bleed, which required a procedure to relieve the pressure beneath his skull.”

I merely blinked at him, trying to process this information.

“Beyond the head injury, he has several cracked ribs, a broken arm, and is pretty banged up. I’ll be honest with you, having heard accounts from the EMTs about the extent of the damage to his vehicle, it’s a miracle he’s alive.”

The mental image of the wreckage had me shivering. I still didn’t know how they’d gotten him out of the car.

“C-can I see him?”

“Of course. I can take you to him now.”

The nurse offered me her hand as I eased off the gurney. “You hit the deck pretty hard out there. Just want to make sure you’re steady enough to make it upstairs without needing a wheelchair.”

I appreciated her kindness, but hearing Sasha would survive gave me strength. “I’m good.” Taking a few steps, I showed off my ability to walk.

“That’s what we like to see.” She smiled warmly. “Take care, you hear?”

“Thank you for your help.” I didn’t just mean while I was passed out, but for ensuring I exploited a loophole that got me information and access to the man I loved—even if he had no clue I returned his feelings.

Nothing like almost losing someone to realize how much they mean to you.

“It was my pleasure.” The nurse ducked her head as the doctor led me away.

As we ascended to the fourth floor in an elevator, Dr. Vance explained, “Your husband is currently under the care of the team in the ICU. And I feel I must warn you that in order to perform the procedure to relieve the pressure from the brain bleed, we were forced to cut his hair.”

“You did what ?” The words were said on a gasp. The idea of Sasha missing his golden mane was unthinkable, even if I had once demanded he cut the long locks. After a while, I’d come to realize his hair was a part of his charm, a shining symbol of his carefree personality.

Dr. Vance shot me a look of sympathy as the elevator doors slid open. “My apologies. It couldn’t be avoided.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, and I scrunched up my nose to stave them off.

It was silly to be upset over this. He was alive, and that was so much more important than hair that would grow back. But I couldn’t help but mourn the loss.

“Right this way.” The doctor gestured toward rooms visible through a wall of glass.

We stopped outside ICU Room 3, and I hesitated momentarily before crossing the threshold. Giving myself a mental pep-talk that I needed to be strong for him and that I would support him through the recovery from the accident, no matter how long it took, I steadied my nerves and stepped inside.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Sasha lying in that bed, battered and bruised, his face a swollen mess of deep purples and blues. His head was buzzed so that only an inch of golden fuzz peeked out beneath white gauze bandages, his left arm encased in a cast that extended past his elbow, keeping it immobile.

Biting back a sob, I ventured closer to his unconscious form, whispering, “Hey, baby.” The first tear slid free as guilt over his condition hit me square in the chest. “I’m so sorry.”

My fingers grazed over the blanket covering him to the waist, almost afraid to touch him directly, not wanting to cause him any more pain.

“I’ll be back to check on him in a few hours,” Dr. Vance spoke from the doorway.

Before he could leave, I asked, “When will he wake up?”

The doctor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s hard to say when it comes to brain injuries. Right now, he’s on some pretty heavy pain meds, which will keep him sedated for a few days. After we wean him off those, it could be hours, could be days. Ultimately, it’s up to your husband.”

I nodded in acknowledgment, and he disappeared from view, only to be replaced by a nurse with kind eyes who carried a plastic bag in her hands. She offered me the bag, “This was everything your husband had on him when he was brought in.”

“Oh.” The plastic crinkled beneath my fingers when I accepted it. “Thank you.”

“We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

The phone in the bag was lighting up with dozens of missed calls and unanswered texts, so I pulled it out.

God, like this day wasn’t bad enough. Now, I needed to figure out how to tell his friends what happened.

As much as it pained me, I knew it was the man who’d left more messages than any of the others that should be my first call. Maddox was the most senior ranking member of the Speed, at least to my knowledge, so I blew out a breath, tapped his contact info, and pressed the phone to my ear.

It rang out without an answer. Time had stood still for me since leaving the arena, so I was surprised to discover it had only been a little over two hours. The accident happened earlier than that, as Sasha had already been transferred by ambulance away from the scene of the crash upon my arrival.

The hockey game would still be going on. Of course, Maddox wouldn’t answer his phone.

That’s when I remembered something Evie had once told me.

“He set up a group text with the girls just in case he ever found himself in a spot where he needed our help. He said it was for emergencies only.”

If this didn’t qualify as an emergency, I don’t know what did.

Scanning the list of text chains, I found the one containing the four Speed wives Sasha was closest with. My hand trembled as I typed out a text, hoping someone would respond.

Is anyone there? I tried calling Maddox, but he didn’t pick up.

Dakota: Goose! Holy shit. Where have you been? Everyone’s freaking out.

It’s Gemma.

Bristol: OMG, Gemma! Did you find him?

Bristol: Never mind. Don’t answer that. Of course you did. You’re texting from his phone.

There’s been an accident.

Evie: Are you guys okay?

Goose: I’m fine, but Sasha’s in the ICU.

Dakota: Gemma, what happened?

His car was crushed like a tin can. I still don’t know how they got him out of it.

Bristol: What hospital?

Indianapolis General.

Bristol: Hang tight. Take care of our boy, Gemma.

My throat closed up, and I choked back a sob. For months, Sasha had vowed that it was his job to care for me. Now, it was on me to return the favor. I climbed into bed with him, and my tears soaked through his hospital gown until I managed to cry myself to sleep.

“Gemma?”

Groggy, I pried my swollen, puffy eyes open in the darkened room. That voice sounded familiar, but I was disoriented and couldn’t quite place it.

Lifting my head, I saw a man standing on the opposite side of the hospital bed from where I lay curled into Sasha’s side.

“Maddox,” I breathed out.

Dressed in a suit, likely having come straight from the arena, he ran a hand through his dark hair as he scanned Sasha’s injured body. “What happened?”

“Car accident.” My voice grew thick, the memory of finding his car still so fresh in my mind.

“They wouldn’t tell me much.” Maddox tilted his head toward the open doorway. “Said his wife had been apprised of his condition.” He arched a skeptical eyebrow.

I wasn’t about to contradict the story I’d told the medical team and risk being removed from this room, so I doubled down on my lie. “That’s right.”

“Gemma.” My name was said on a disapproving sigh.

“Are you here to check on Sasha or grill me about the details of our private personal relationship?” Defiance entered my tone, daring him to challenge me further.

“I feel like an asshole,” Maddox whispered, the words so soft I barely heard them.

If the situation weren’t so heavy, I might’ve thrown a dig, asking if that feeling caught up with him often. Instead, I elected to remain silent, allowing him to continue.

“I was furious when he didn’t show up at the rink tonight. My anger reached nuclear levels when he didn’t answer his phone when I called a dozen or more times.” His swallow was audible as he gazed down at not only his player but his friend. “Never could I have imagined he was hurt like this.”

My vision grew blurry, and my attempt to blink back the tears was pointless; they fell down my cheeks anyway.

“Is he going to make it?” Maddox’s voice grew hoarse as emotion crept in.

“That’s what the doctors say. He’s gonna be out of it for a few days at least.”

“Do you need anything?”

His offer was so unexpected that I reared back in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah.” He shoved both hands into his pants pockets. “As Goose’s wife , that makes you a member of the Speed family, and we take care of our own.”

I let my head fall back into its position against Sasha’s shoulder. “As long as I can stay here with him, I don’t need anything else. But thank you.”

Maddox nodded. “Well, if you think of anything or his condition changes, don’t hesitate to reach out. Got it?”

My response was a hum as I buried my face into Sasha’s chest. The comforting sound of his heartbeat lulled me back to sleep.