Page 10 of On Ice

Luca

“Goddamn little pissant ,” I growl, smashing my glass of whisky against the faded orange carpet. I’m shaking with rage. “I’ll fucking murder him. I’m going to strangle that bastard.”

“Jesus Christ.” Marco rakes a hand through his dark hair, looking flustered. He knows this is bad. In fact, bad is an understatement. This is a fucking disaster. “Is he nuts? Does he have a death wish?”

My phone starts ringing instantly. Every person who bet on the game because I promised Chicago was going to win, now wants my blood. I’m seething. I can’t see straight I’m so enraged at Evan. The little fucker just put a bullseye on my back. My reputation just took a very dangerous hit. He just made me look weak. Ineffectual.

He might have just got me killed.

Was that his plan, or was he’s so naive he didn’t understand that rebelling against me didn’t just affect me ? My mob associates trusted me, which means they bet large sums on Chicago winning. I gave them my personal assurance the game would be thrown. Vincent wagered millions, expecting an easy payday. Maria too. They all did. Hell, I did. I have no idea how to clean up this god awful mess Evan just created, and that is terrifying.

“Go get him and bring him here.” My voice shakes with anger. “Now.”

Marco lunges toward the door, but as he opens it, we find Evan standing there with his hand raised as if he was about to knock. He’s pale and I see the fear in his eyes. He knows he’s in trouble. He knows he fucked up. Still, terrified or not, he enters the room and walks straight to me.

I don’t want to hear his excuses. I don’t give a fuck what his reasons were for screwing me over. I don’t even let him get one word out before I grab his shirt and shove him against the bar. Bottles and glassware crash to the ground, splintering into glistening shards. Evan doesn’t make a sound or plead for mercy; he just stares at me as he lies half-sprawled on the bar. I raise my fist to punch him square in the face, but for some reason, I hesitate. He’s so damn pretty, and I hate the thought of messing up his face. It’s a ridiculous thought, considering he probably just signed my death warrant.

Instead of burying my fist in his face, I slap him. Hard. Hard enough that his lip splits open, blood smearing on my hand and his cheek. I yank his flushed face to mine, breathing hard as I snarl, “Do you realize what you’ve done ?”

He still doesn’t speak. His eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks gutted. Terrified. What I don’t see is anger. I fully expected him to be cocky, arrogant, happy he just gave me the ultimate fuck-you. But he looks more broken than anything.

I shake him hard enough to rattle his teeth, and throw him to the floor. He lands face down, and groaning, he rolls onto his back. Marco hasn’t said a word. He’s standing nearby, looking stone faced. Usually, I’d have him work a guy over. I don’t like to get my hands dirty unless I have to. But this feels personal between Evan and me, and I’m only too happy to put my hands on the little bastard myself.

I’m breathing hard as I stand over Evan. He makes no attempt to get up. He stays flat on the floor, watching me like I’m his worst nightmare. “Your little stunt didn’t just fuck me over, Evan. You fucked all my associates over too,” I shout.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

I bug my eyes. “You’re sorry? You think that fixes anything ?” He doesn’t respond. “What exactly did you think would happen if you didn’t obey me, Evan? Did you think me and all my mafia pals were just going to say, ‘Oh, well. Gambling is risky ?’”

He slowly pushes up on one elbow, blinking at me as blood slowly drips down his chin from his split lip. As pissed as I am, I can’t deny that, even crumpled and bleeding on the floor, he somehow manages to look like something out of a sexy sports team calendar.

“Betting on this game wasn’t supposed to be risky,” I say harshly. “It was supposed to be a sure thing. I told them it was a sure thing, Evan. But thanks to you, I now have some very dangerous people furious at me because they lost millions of dollars from your little stunt. Millions .”

He winces.

“In addition to those people I’ve got bookies, loan sharks, dirty officials all furious with me, wondering what the hell happened. They’re all wondering how Luca Barone made such a huge, fucking blunder. What do I tell them, Evan? Huh? Should I tell them the captain of the team didn’t feel right about throwing the game? He didn’t think it was the right thing to do? How do you think that’s going to go over?”

“Not well,” he says hoarsely.

“Bingo,” I spit out. “It won’t go well at all. They’ll want someone to pay. They’ll want blood. Some of them will want my blood because they’ve been waiting for an opportunity to watch me fail. To stick a knife in my back. Congratulations, Evan, you just handed me over to them on a fucking platter.” I grit my teeth, shaking with anger.

“That wasn’t my intention.” He wrinkles his brow. “I didn’t mean for this to blowback on you.”

“You thought my associates would be fine with losing money on the game?” I ask disbelievingly.

“No. I wasn’t think about that.”

I curl my lip. “No, you weren’t. You seem to live in some dreamland where you do what you want and there are no consequences. Well, hate to burst your bubble, but in my world, there are consequences, Evan. Huge ones.”

“You need to make an example of him, boss,” Marco says, eyeing Evan with a menacing stare. “You need to show the other’s you’ve handled the situation.”

He’s right. He’s a hundred percent right. “Get up,” I say to Evan coldly.

He gets up quickly, leaning against the bar with one hand. He wipes at his bleeding lip, staring at me with his feverish gaze. His eyes look like green jewels in his pale face. I can smell his faded cologne mixed with sweat. He’s trying hard not to show how terrified he is, but I can see it clearly. He knows he’s fucked.

“Please don’t hurt Noah,” he whispers.

I frown. Most men in his position beg for their own life. He’s pleading for his friend? “You should worry about yourself.”

He shudders, but says, “Noah had nothing to do with my decision not to throw the game. He has no idea who or what you are. I’m the one who fucked everything up for you. Take your anger out on me, not him. I did this willingly.”

Marco makes a sound of disgust.

“I hope it was worth it to you,” I say, my eyes burning into Evan.

He lifts his chin. “It was.”

I rasp, “It was a fucking hockey game. You threw away your life for a hockey game?”

A flush moves up his cheeks. “You don’t understand.”

I narrow my eyes. “What don’t I understand?”

“It wasn’t just a game to me. It wasn’t just a game to my team. Hockey is our life. For some of us, it’s all we have. What keeps us going is the dream of getting to the playoffs. Being the best.”

“You’re an idiot,” Marco rumbles. “You’re not the best.”

“Fuck you,” Evan snaps, glaring at Marco. “Why would I care about the opinion of someone like you? Do you even have morals? Honor? Or do you just do whatever crooked thing Luca tells you to do, like a well-trained monkey?”

Laughing, Marco shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. One foot in the grave and you still think you were right to do what you did? Once you’re dead, your teammates will just have to throw the next game, dumbass. You didn’t save them. You just got yourself killed for nothing.”

“At least I believe in something bigger than myself.” Evan meets my gaze, looking disgusted. “All you people care about is power and money.”

My face warms. “You seem to think because I don’t care about you, I don’t care about anything. You’re wrong.”

“Yeah, right.” He shakes his head.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you know nothing about me, Evan.” Why it bothers me that he thinks poorly of me, I’m not sure. Lots of people think poorly of me. I don’t lose sleep over it. But whenever Evan gives me that snobby, judgmental look, it annoys me to no end.

“I know enough.” His eyes are ice cold. “You’re probably the worst person I’ve ever met.”

Marco swears under his breath and growls, “Boss, please let me get rid of this guy. I’ve heard enough of his punk-ass mouth to last a lifetime.”

Marco absolutely needs to be the one who handles Evan. He feels nothing for the guy, but I’m bewilderingly soft toward him. I don’t know what it is about Evan that gets to me. Sure, I’ve used him and haven’t exactly been nice to him, but deep down, I hate the idea of killing him. I wanted more of him. Having to end his life is disappointing. It’s like having my favorite toy snatched away before I got to play with it as much as I wanted.

“Yeah, take him away and deal with him,” I force the words out. This has to be done and if I take too much time to think about it, I might make the wrong decision out of weakness.

Evan clenches his jaw and fear shifts through his eyes, but he doesn’t plead with me or beg for his life. If anything, he looks resigned. “Will Noah be okay?”

Is he for real? Why isn’t he worried about himself?

I meet Marco’s gaze. “Get him the fuck out of here.”

Marco smirks and addresses Evan. “Let’s go.”

Evan moves to the door, shoulders straight. Marco opens the door and pushes Evan out first, then follows. I watch them go, biting my tongue to stop myself from telling them to come back. This has to happen. Someone has to pay, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me. Not if I have anything to say about it. Even with Evan taking the fall, there might still be those who want more retribution. Power hungry types like Vincent who think they didn’t get all they deserved in life.

Some people I’ll be able to bullshit, but others I’ll have to cover their losses with my own money. It’s not that I don’t have it, I do. But who likes parting with money when they don’t have to? Evan’s noble predisposition just cost me a bundle. If my ass weren’t on the line right now, I’d probably have kept him around and made him pay off his debt to me in fun ways. But this mistake was too big to simply slap him on the wrist.

I go to the windows that look out over the ice rink. There’s a dull ache in my chest as I watch the Zamboni machine smoothing out the ice. The crowd has mostly filtered out of the arena, and trash litters the stands. Crumpled programs, empty popcorn bags, and plastic beer cups, waiting for the cleanup crew.

Owning the Ice Hawks is going to be a lot less fun now that Evan won’t be around. I loved watching him skate during their practices. He was such a skilled player. Graceful but still aggressive. The team is going to struggle to replace him. I’d be shocked if they manage to make it into the playoffs without him.

Just as well.

I sigh and tug out my phone. There are a bunch of missed calls and messages from some very pissed off people. I need to call everyone back. I need to let them know the situation has been handled and it won’t happen again. My gaze falls to the dried blood on my fingers. Evan’s blood.

Why couldn’t he just do what I told him to do? Why did he have to fight me so hard? Why did he have to care so much about his teammates?

A pang of regret shivers through me and I mutter, “What a waste.” Then with a tired sigh, I start making phone calls.