Page 65

65

THE IRISH PRINCESS

AIDAN

T he flight home is a far different affair from the flight there. After we crushed the Thunderhawks in their own stadium for three straight games, the team is practically vibrating with celebratory energy. The series win is huge for the team and our season. Everyone is riding high.

But us kicking some Canadian ass sure didn’t make Rory too popular in the stands. Dressed in my jersey each night, her honey gold hair falling in messy ringlets over my name, looking like absolute perfection. The memory of what she did in that jersey made it extra difficult to take my eyes off of her long enough to play.

Her celebratory shouts each time Liam or I sunk a puck into the net still made me nervous. I didn’t even celebrate the first couple of goals… Toronto’s crowd can be volatile at the best of times. But under my scrutiny, it was clear Colt had it locked down.

No one dared challenge the six-foot-two miserable hockey player glued to her side; Rory’s personal scary dog privilege.

I’d never tell him to his face, but I can’t wait for that fucker to be back on the ice. The dude may be a right ass, but he’s an ass who can play fucking hockey. We definitely felt his absence in the first line despite our ability to pull out those wins.

Even our plane getting delayed right before takeoff can’t dim my spirits. I crack a few beers with my teammates, talking and laughing with the guys in a way I haven’t done in a long time. But I draw the line when a group of our rowdiest players break out in an awful rendition of Sweet Caroline, a Boston classic.

Rory fits in with the guys in a way I never would have expected.

The self-proclaimed “hockey hater” is laughing and joking with West and Rhodes, our two goalies. I smile to myself when she even forces a smile out of Colt himself. Celebrating the little victory with a little shake of her hips and throwing her fists into the air. Her pretty blue eyes search for mine, and her smile grows once she finds them.

I remind myself it’s only temporary. Telling myself I’m playing the part. And so is she.

This thing between us could be gone before I know it.

“You okay?”Rory asks as I pull the last of our bags from the airport carousel, swinging her duffle over my shoulder with the rest, despite her bitter protests.

“Yeah, fine,” I say, reaching down to take her hand as we step out into the busy parking lot.

“You were pretty quiet the whole flight…”

“Just tired,” I tell her, though I’m not sure she’s buying it from the look in her eye.

When we’re almost to the car, I reach into my pocket to switch on my phone that I’d switched off for the flight. It immediately starts ringing. I don’t even have a chance to say hello before hearing Koen’s frantic tone on the other end. It gets my full attention.

Rory slides into the passenger seat, unaware of the call. I stay outside, muscles tense.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been calling you for over an hour,” my brother barks.

“The plane was delayed,” I reply, concerned over what could have Koen this ruffled… “What’s wrong?”

“They took her.”

My eyes find Rory’s, watching me through the car window, blue eyes bright with worry. But I know Rory is not who Koen is talking about.

“I need you.”

“I’m coming.” I wrench the driver's side door open and rocket myself into the car, putting it into gear before I’ve fully shut the door. I spot Liam on his way to his own car and pull up beside him, motioning with my eyes to get in. He hops in the back without question. Koen’s still on the line, the phone pinned between my ear and my shoulder. I can feel Rory’s eyes on me. She braces herself as I take a sharp turn out of the parking garage without slowing.

“How?” I growl, shifting into high gear, merging onto the highway.

Koen sighs, “I don’t know. I thought we had everything locked down. One minute she was here and the next she was just—gone.”

“The cameras?” I ask.

“Nothing.” Koen swears, and the distinct sound of his fist hitting something hard comes through the line. “I don’t know how they did it. Alex was watching. They had to find a blind spot, they had to know where the cameras were, they had to?—”

“We’ll get her back.” My jaw clicks, thinking about my sister in the hands of those Italian or Russian savages. Koen is right to be panicked. Through everything, the most important thing was always the family. Keeping the family safe.

“How far out are you?”

I glance at the speedometer, pushing well past 100mph, then look for the next exit to get a sense of time. “Ten minutes.”

“Good.”