Page 76 of My Pucking Crush

Luca

I t took a lot of maneuvering and cash, but I convinced my old Crushers’ security team to go for a cigarette break during this final intermission. I told them about Belova, and gave them an out.

I’ve got solid evidence against Ivan. Texts and wire transfers about Max’s first attack, courtesy of Giancarlo, sit on a thumb drive in my pocket. If what I’m doing gets to the league and they try to disqualify the Crushers, I’ll drop the bomb against Richmond.

Watching Jake Quinn hurt Max, my Max , fueled me with rage. My fist lands easy punches—surprising for a hockey player. But they’re used to fighting on skates, not flat on their backs. And just not against someone with nothing to lose.

Quinn’s team is too stunned to react, and might even feel he deserves it. Fighting is part of this sport, but not the way Quinn went after two innocent rivals.

Who happen to be gay.

I’m grabbed from behind and practically lifted off the rubber floor tiles. Only one person can handle my weight like that.

Max.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I yell at him.

“Me?” He looks at me, stunned.

“ You’re not supposed to be in the visiting team’s locker room! Your team will be disqualified. Presley, get Ryan the fuck out of here,” I scream at one of my guys.

The catatonic Richmond team and their security agents with their player writhing on the floor, gape up at me.

Flashing my gun at all of them, I say, “You didn’t see any of this.”

Max drags me away, like I’ve lost my mind.

I have.

I miss him.

I’m dying without him.

He throws me against a wall in the corridor. “What the fuck? Where did you go?”

“New York.” I breathe him in. Musk and sweat and blood. My fucking favorite hat trick. “I killed Nero and his driver.”

Max’s jaw drops. “You left me.”

“I had to. It was the only way Belova would let you go.” I try not to collapse. “Presley, get Quinn over here. He’s out of the game, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, boss.”

I give Max a look. “How long until the intermission is over?”

“Five minutes, maybe,” Max says with a tight jaw. “Talk. Fast.”

Presley drags Quinn out into the corridor. The men I brought with me follow. The Richmond locker room door closes, and I suspect someone is gaslighting the team, saying Belova wanted Quinn punished for getting thrown out during such a crucial game.

“I’ll meet you all outside,” I say to the ops unit I brought with me.

They shuck off the security jackets I stole and toss everything into a dumpster. Presley stays with me, holding Jake.

Max glances around. “Equipment room.”

I follow Max on his skates walking like a warrior. We get in the room, and I throw Quinn down on a metal chair. “Talk.”

“What?” he spits out.

“I have your messages with Ivan Belova.”

His face crumbles. “Those can be faked.”

“And the photos of you with a guy, too?”

“Christ.” Max’s eyelids flutter. “We were in fucking high school.”

“This was three months ago,” I say to Max, shocking him. “Quinn being caught sucking dick put Belova’s plan into place. He was looking for someone he could blackmail. And found a player with a wife and four kids who doesn’t want anyone to know he likes dick, too.”

“Not, too,” Quinn mumbles. “Just...dudes. My marriage is a sham.”

“I’m sure Katie always knew—” Max starts.

“Katie dumped me in college,” Quinn spits out. “I fucked around with guys on the side, she couldn’t take it. The coach there told me to keep quiet about liking guys and then set me up with his daughter. Told me to marry her, and he’d make sure I’d make it to the big leagues.”

Twenty years later, he’s still on a farm team. Christ, he must be miserable.

“That’s a fucking terrible thing to do to a woman. Does she know?” Max snaps.

“No,” Quinn scoffs.

“Are those kids yours?”

He tries to stand but Presley pushes him back down. “Yes, they’re mine. And I fucking love them. That’s why I did this. I can’t risk losing them.”

My jaw ticks, and I completely get what he’s saying. That was me. I slept with Lia out of obligation. My son made life with her, life with Belova, bearable.

Until he was taken away from me.

“None of this is Max’s fault,” I argue.

“It’s his fault, all right,” Quinn spews through clenched teeth.

“You said that to me on the ice,” Max speaks up, shaking his arms loose. “What the hell did I do?”

“You made me this way,” Quinn cries out. “By fucking around with me in high school, forcing me.”

“I didn’t force you and you know it,” Max yells.

“Doesn’t matter,” Quinn’s head falls into his hands.

Max and I exchange glances. Shaking my head, I grip Quinn’s shoulder. “I understand you more than you think,” I whisper. “I’m gay, but I had a wife and a son. They both died because she couldn’t handle who I was. You’re bitter about something that happened in high school. You’re a fucking adult now. Take responsibility. If you’re not happy in your marriage, get a divorce.”

Jake Quinn has options I never had. “I’ll lose my kids.”

“For being gay?” Max scoffs. “Dude, what year do you think it is?”

“I’ve been unfaithful,” Quinn mumbles.

“That doesn’t matter much either, so long as you were a good father,” I say, again wishing I had the chance to set Lia free.

When he looks lost, I step back. I am not here to solve Jake Quinn’s marital problems.

A rumble from the stadium means Max has to get back on the ice. Our eyes lock again, and my heart pounds with every second I have left with him.

“Don’t...leave,” Max says, backing up to the door, blocking me.

“I’ll do you one better.” I fit a cap on my head, and slide shades on. “Presley, deal with Quinn. I have to walk my boyfriend back to his locker room. He has a hockey game to win.”