Page 9

NINE

jack

It takes everything in me to not look back at Carter, not look back at Sam or the guys.

I grit my teeth, squaring my shoulders as I walk out the door to Electric Lunch with what’s his name behind me.

I didn’t belong there anyway.

Everyone back in that bar has a life, things to look forward to, people who love them.

Families, spouses, significant others.

Vacations, weddings, holidays.

The people I just left behind aren’t defined by what they do, what they can win, how much they can earn.

Unlike me whose value is equivalent to how many goals I can score within three periods.

I’ve never had anything beyond hockey and the endorsements I’ve picked up along the way.

I came close with Sam once but fucked it up royally because I didn’t understand true connection.

I mistook intimacy for sex and wasn’t ever able to fill the void in my heart and soul.

How could I?

Abandoned by my mother when I was only six years old, detested by my abusive father until the day he kicked me out of my shithole house for being gay.

I never felt security or happiness.

I never knew love.

When Sam first said those words to me, I didn’t know how to accept them.

I didn’t feel worthy of his love.

I don’t see how I ever could.

When my own parents didn’t love me, how the hell could anyone else?

After Sam, I made sure I didn’t give anyone else the chance to get close enough to say them again.

I missed him when we broke up, but I know now it was because he gave me a false sense of security and comfort.

He took care of me, made me feel protected, things I’d never experienced before.

I stupidly thought that was love, then learned fast it was just me grasping at something normal.

Since I had nothing to offer Sam in return, it wasn’t a shock that he pulled away.

I thought I’d be okay on my own, but after that taste of what life could be like, I craved it again from the one person I knew could give it to me.

But he’d already doled it out to someone else.

I think that’s why I hated Brixton so much when I first got back to California.

Brixton was a hot fucking mess when they first met and Sam was a fixer.

I think it’s why Sam and I started up in the first place.

He just sensed the dysfunction in me even though I never fully let him in on all the dirty laundry packed tight in my baggage.

I hid that pretty damn well.

Still hiding it now.

But he wasn’t satisfied with the fun version of me who loved the limelight.

He wanted more. Substance.

Commitment. A future .

It was all completely foreign to me.

I had no fucking idea how to be what he needed.

I knew I’d never be enough.

You know who I am enough for?

The guy currently pressed against me outside the bar.

He doesn’t give a shit who I really am under the glitz and glam of my celebrity shell.

He’s not looking for a husband or a soulmate.

He wants to get laid.

And I don’t want to feel so alone.

The pang in my chest is a harsh reminder that it won’t last.

It never does.

I grab my phone and turn to face the guy.

“I’ll call an Uber.”

He holds up his phone, a sexy smile lifting his lips.

“Already done. He’s a minute away.”

I sneak a look over his shoulder but the windows are covered.

The hairs on the back of my neck shoot up.

“Aren’t you going to ask me my name?” the guy says, edging closer to me.

People swarm the street, word obviously getting out that Sin City is performing tonight.

I flash a tight smile.

“Let’s just keep to what this is,” I say, my heart twisting as I say the words.

Because I don’t want to leave with this guy.

I want to go back inside, to yell at Carter for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong, to hear him tell me he only did it because he cares about me, because he wants to be with me.

But those are fantasies.

They’ll never be my reality.

And even if he said that shit to me, I’d just go and screw it up like I did before .

“Whatever you want.” The guy shrugs.

“Pretty soon, I’m gonna have you forgetting your own name.”

I clench and unclench my fingers, an odd sensation climbing in my chest.

I brush it off, chalking it up to anticipation.

The guy who shall remain nameless is hot as fuck, and for a few hours, he’ll serve his purpose and make me forget all about what Carter’s gonna do to his pretty little dipshit, Livvie.

That is, if she doesn’t run off with Lane before he can get her home.

A dark blue Hyundai pulls up to the curb.

The guy grins. “Sorry it’s not fancier. I know you’re probably used to Uber Black, right?”

I shrug.

“Whatever gets us to our next stop. There’s a hotel not too far away?—”

His grin widens.

“I’m already ahead of you. And this place is quiet and off the radar.”

A few people stop to stare and point at me as I pop open the back door.

Then out come the phones.

Shit. I really am not in the mood for this.

Not tonight.

The guy leans in close.

“No paparazzi where we’re going, either.”

I hurry and slide into the back seat, followed by my puckboy.

He slams the door shut and settles back against the leather seat.

His eyes glow in the darkness, sparking with promise.

“It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever experienced.”

His tone grates at my ears.

In the bar, his voice was low and husky, full of promise.

Now it’s laced with something else.

Maybe he’s just a freak like that.

I’ve had enough whiskey tonight to be open to pretty much anything.

And judging from his size, I figure if he turns out to be a psychotic fan, I can destroy him with one punch.

I stare out the window as his fingers creep over the top of my jeans.

They slowly graze my cock through the fabric, then his hand cups my balls.

I take in a sharp breath.

Fuck, I need this.

I lean my head back against the seat, my eyes drooping closed.

It can be anyone’s hand…

If the driver realizes what we’re doing, he doesn’t let on.

The car pulls to a stop next to a curb.

I open my eyes. The street is quiet and the front of the hotel is clear.

The guy was right.

Good fucking thing.

The lights cast a dim halo over the street below.

Puckboy opens the door and slides out.

I follow, taking a quick look around the deserted street in uptown Oakland.

Squaring my shoulders, I follow him through the revolving glass doors and duck behind a white column near the elevator while he makes the arrangements for a room.

I really don’t need anyone poking into my private business.

I don’t exactly hide the fact that I’m gay, but it’s still not widely embraced for a professional hockey player, so I try to fly under the radar whenever I can.

Not everyone will be the fucking asshole that my father was and still is, but tolerance is a fickle bitch and the levels always vary.

I take a look around the lobby, my eyes sweeping over the white and black marble tile floor, gray leather couches, glass and chrome end tables.

The place is chic, modern, and on the newer side.

Not exactly the kind of hotel that rents rooms by the hour, not that I plan to be here for more than a few.

The flight to Ohio leaves early tomorrow, and tonight is just about getting my head on straight for the game.

An image of Carter blasts my mind, making my heart clench.

Then one of him fucking Livvie claims the front and center spot, and my stomach plummets into my shoes.

Jesus, if I ever needed an instant dick deflator, I think I just found it.

I can tell myself this has nothing to do with Carter but that’d be a big fat ass lie.

It has everything to do with him and chasing those thoughts of him and Livvie out of my goddamn head.

I keep myself hidden until the guy comes over, a seductive smile on his lips and a key card in his hand.

“Ready?”

I nod and stab the Up button.

The doors open and we step inside.

I keep my distance since places like these always have hidden cameras in the elevators, and the last thing I want is to see myself flashed on TMZ on my way to a sordid tryst with a rando I picked up at a bar.

“You seem nervous,” he says, stepping closer.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Let’s just keep the talking to a minimum, yeah? I didn’t come here to word puke all over you. I had other ideas.”

“And I have the same ideas,” he says with a waggle of his dark eyebrows.

“Trust me, once we get into that room, you won’t have to worry about words coming out of my mouth. Just focus on what will go into it.”

My cock jumps.

It’s been a while.

And even though it’s not the mouth I desperately want wrapped around my dick, it’ll do for tonight.

As for Carter…I’ll have to get over him again .

Because I can’t afford to jeopardize the one thing that actually does take care of me.

I follow the guy out of the elevator when it stops on the fourth floor.

He makes a sharp left down the hallway.

I narrow my eyes at his tall, lean form.

Definitely not a first timer.

A sudden urge to cut and run consumes me and my leg muscles tighten.

I shake it off, figuring it’s just because my head is all fucked up and clouded with lust for a guy I’ll never have.

He stops at the end of the hall and walks into a small alcove where the rooms are spread out into suites.

At least he’s not a cheap fuck.

The lock clicks and he twists the brass handle to open the door.

The room is dark when he enters.

The door slams shut behind me before the room is flooded with light.

My heart stutters to a stop.

Jesus Christ, what the hell did I just walk into?

Three guys face us, dressed in black denim, heavy silver chains around their necks and more hanging from their leather cuts.

They stare me down, menacing looks on their pock-marked faces.

One of them has a long, deep scar down the side of his cheek, greasy hair slicked back and his part covered by a dirty bandana.

Another one has tattoos covering his entire upper body starting from behind his ears.

And the third thug is bald with piercings everywhere and gauges in his ears.

I back toward the door but the guy looks at me and shakes his head.

“Don’t do it, handsome,” he murmurs.

“These guys just want to talk to you.”

The greasy hair guy steps forward, tugging a metal chain tight with both hands.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask, taking a step forward.

Fuck them if they think I’ll cower .

“Wrong fucking question. Who we are isn’t important right now,” he grunts.

Then the scarred fucker slides his leather cut aside so I can see the handle of his gun sticking out of the waistband of his torn jeans.

I glare at the guy who delivered me to these fucking pricks.

“You think you’re gonna get away with this shit?”

He smirks.

“I don’t see how I can’t. You didn’t bother to ask my name, remember? Said you didn’t want to talk. Just fuck,” he says.

“Easiest job I’ve had all week. A thousand bucks to get you here, and now I get to walk away.”

“You son of a bitch,” I hiss.

“I will fucking destroy you.”

“Not really a possibility, especially with what they’re about to do to you.” He grins and runs a finger down the front of my shirt.

“Too bad you got caught in their crosshairs. We would’ve had a lot of fun together, Jack.”

“If I ever find you, I will?—"

“Trust me,” he says. “You won’t ever see me again.” Then he turns and walks out the door without another word or look at the fucking biker gang surrounding me.

“What do you want?” I bite out the words, my heart thrashing in my chest.

“We came to deliver a message, pretty boy,” Baldie grunts, flexing his fingers and cracking his ringed knuckles. He pounds a fist into his opposite palm, lips twitching. “You were stupid to think you could just walk away. Now you’ve got a big fucking debt to pay, and it’s time to collect.”