Page 68

68

CONNOR

T he streets of Key West are full of weird shit.

A man walks a cat on a leash.

A dude dressed like a pirate is trying to sell emotional support rum.

And a toddler yelling, “This is my truth!” while throwing chicken nuggets at his mom.

Somehow, none of that is as concerning as what I just saw across the street.

“Connor?” Allie tugs on my hand. “You good?”

I blink and refocus on her. “Yeah. Thought I saw someone I knew.”

We’re walking back from a late lunch, our hands tangled, the scent of coconut and sunscreen lingering in the air. It’s the kind of warm, lazy day that should feel like paradise.

Except my gut’s doing that thing it does before a fight breaks out on the ice.

I glance toward the alley between the souvenir shop and the smoothie shack.

Peyton was there. The same woman Daltyn got stuck in the elevator with in Vegas.

She looked different today. Still polished and put together, but… off. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. And when someone brushed past her, she flinched.

Now, she’s gone.

Vanished like smoke.

Allie doesn’t notice my shift in mood. She’s mid-story about how Gram accidentally subscribed to a goat delivery service instead of a husband catalog.

“Apparently she named one of them Carl,” Allie says, “and tried to teach him how to play Go Fish.”

I nod, pretending to listen, but my focus is shot.

Peyton looked over her shoulder like she was being watched.

Then she saw me and nd her entire body locked up. Panic flickered in her eyes.

“I don’t know how Harper deals with her,” Allie continues.

“Hey,” I say gently, squeezing her hand. “I need to swing by the coffee shop. Grab an espresso or something.”

She narrows her eyes. “Didn’t you just drink a coconut smoothie with three shots of espresso and half a can of Red Bull?”

“That was... tropical. This is for balance.”

“You’re lying.”

I sigh. “I’m investigating. I saw Peyton.”

Her whole demeanor changes. “Here? In Key West?”

“Yeah. Looked like she didn’t want to be seen.”

Allie glances around, scanning the area like Peyton might be hiding behind a palm tree. “Why wouldn’t she say hi?”

“Don’t know.” I pull out my phone and frown. “And Daltyn hasn’t answered my texts since we left Vegas.”

“When I saw her before we left, she told me she was heading home after the conference,” Allie says, brows pulling together. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Nope. And yet... here she is.”

Allie bites her lip. “Think we should check on her?”

“Yeah. But don’t corner her. If she’s hiding from something, there’s a reason. We don’t want to scare her off.”

Allie nods. “If we see her, I’ll play it casual.”

I grin. “Casual? Like when you ‘accidentally’ knocked a pina colada off the bar when that woman flirted with me?”

“That was a reflex,” she says flatly. “My hand slipped.”

“Onto her drink. While growling.”

“It was very slippery. I just couldn’t hold it.”

I laugh and pull her closer. “God, I love you.”

She smirks. “You’re lucky I didn’t throw the whole blender at her.”

She doesn’t know it, but I love that about her—how fiercely she loves. I know it comes from a place of fear. Of being left.

And that thought circles right back to Peyton.

Who is she running from? Landon Cross?

He’s the unhinged forward from Seattle Vengeance, our rival team. Everyone on my roster hates him. Known for playing dirty on the ice… and even dirtier off it.

I glance back down the alley. It’s empty.

But something’s not sitting right.

It’s the kind of wrong that simmers quietly and slowly.

The kind you don’t notice until the storm’s already at your door.

And I’ve got a feeling… It’s about to hit.