Page 1 of Right Pucking Daddy (Daddies of the League #7)

AIDEN

“You can run, kid, but we’ll find you!”

“Screw you!” I yelled back, running from the jerks who wanted something I refused to let them take. I wouldn’t go through that again. Not ever.

City blocks passed in a blur, but I pushed. Harder. Faster. Not until my lungs burned and a copper tang filled my mouth did I pause, doubled over to catch my breath. When I stood, I noticed where I was.

Home.

At least the last place I remembered being halfway decent enough to be called that.

I’d not been in the area for years. I avoided it at all costs.

My subconscious must’ve pushed me here, to the last place I remembered being safe and warm.

My stomach growled. I couldn’t tell you the last time I had a full belly on the regular.

I kept to the shadows as I moved around the massive building looming over me. There had to be a door I could jimmy— something I could do in my sleep. I just hoped there wasn’t a security system. That would be bad.

Rounding the corner, a wall of brick with high windows and a singular, nondescript metal door greeted me. My gaze roamed around the wall, looking for cameras.

Nothing. I nearly crowed in victory.

I moved toward the door, pausing when I heard the beat of sneakers on pavement.

“Fan out. He’s gotta be here somewhere.”

Electricity shot through me, lighting up my nerve endings with panic and fear.

I rushed to the door, pulling out the lock pick kit I swiped from an old bum one night.

He’d shoved me off the ratty couch in the flop house I’d been staying in at the time.

I didn’t protest. The guy had a big knife he’d pointed at me when I moved to stand.

As soon as he was asleep, I rummaged through his things, taking everything I could before disappearing.

The sounds of the guys chasing me came closer and closer.

“C’mon, Aiden. C’mon,” I whispered to myself, hoping to hurry myself despite the trembling fingers that fumbled with the picks.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, forcing out everything around me until my racing heart settled into a slow, steady hum. Then I tried again.

A flood of relief washed away the panic and fear as the lock finally turned, the door opening with a groan. I shushed it as if it could understand me, holding it with both hands until it clicked shut with a soft snick .

“What is this place?”

The sound of my voice bounced off the tile floors and concrete walls. My left arm tucked in close to my aching ribs, I turned, surveying my surroundings. Nothing gave away what the building was used for.

Shrugging, I stumbled through the darkness.

I wanted to scream until my head rattled.

The enormous amount of pain flooding my brain now that I’d quit running weaved its way throughout the rest of my body.

Screaming would be so damn wonderful, but a seriously bad idea.

The rib beaters were just outside. Getting away from them took priority, which meant keeping my trap shut, no matter how much I wanted or needed to let out the onslaught of agony.

After a few deep breaths to steady myself, I moved through the building, looking for a place to crash. Somewhere safe and warm. And hopefully, something to eat. It had been a few days since I had more than scraps from the trash.

Door after door turned up more and more of the same. Jack shit. Offices filled with desks and tables, but nothing soft, comfortable, or inviting. Not that I was used to anything of that nature. Not since before my dad took off and my mom died. Since then, hunger and fear have become my existence.

Another door opened, and I laughed, my body deflating with relief.

A couch. A comfortable one, too, from the looks of it.

Sneaking a peek behind me, my breath stilled while I listened, praying the guys chasing me hadn’t figured out I ducked in here.

Silence greeted me. A smile warmed my face for a moment, but I wiped it from my face.

Luck didn’t know me, and I didn’t know it.

Disappeared sperm donor. Dead mother. More foster parents than I could count, and not a one of them decent.

Some of them bigger nightmares than I could bear to think of.

Especially once a few of the closeted assholes realized I’m queer.

I shook off the darkness that threatened to descend and entered the office. I dropped onto the couch, my fingers grazing the soft fabric. I’d sleep here. This would be a good spot. Now to find some food.

I rummaged through all the drawers in the desk then turned for the cabinets. I found some blankets and a pillow in one and a jacket several sizes too big in another, but nothing to eat unless you counted spearmint gum.

Easing the door open, I checked the hallway.

I didn’t have a clue where to go, having never been in the building before, but the posters and things on the walls of the office screamed hockey, so there had to be a concession stand around here somewhere given the size of the building.

People ate junk when they watched a game.

Not that I’d ever been to one of them. Kinda hard coming up with the cash for tickets and concessions when you spent all your time trying to keep from being pimped out, beat down, or starving to death.

I moved around the building, taking things slow. With the adrenaline gone, everything hurt. Every step jarred my ribs, my breath catching in my throat. If I didn’t come across anything soon…

“Wow!”

The whispered gasp echoed, but I gave no notice. My entire being focused on one thing only. The sight that filled the opening I’d come across that looked out over the most beautiful thing I’d ever set eyes on .

Swallowing, I glanced all around me. I held my breath as I moved slowly toward the balcony railing that spanned the opening.

Below me were rows upon rows of seats, all of them surrounding a field of icy, bluish white, painted with red and blue lines. Even in the darkness, the floor glowed. Not eerily, but otherworldly almost.

That glow called to me. It pulled me toward it and slipped between the railings, lowering myself to the seat under the balcony and then down onto the floor. My gaze never left the sight that tugged at my soul.

My hands trailed along the glass-topped enclosure as I looked for a way onto the floor. The smell was indescribable. A combination of so many scents that I wouldn’t be able to pinpoint a single one even if someone paid me to do so.

I stopped at the gate, looking around to see if I was being watched before pulling it open. Reaching down, I touched the ice, ignoring the blast of cold that thundered up my arm. Standing, I glanced around again before stepping through the gate.

The moment my feet touched the ice, a feeling washed through me that I didn’t recognize at first, but the longer I stood there, the more it grew until I realized this place, this ice floor with the tiers of seats surrounding me, this was where I belonged.

This was home.

“What the fuck? ”

I popped upright, my heart in my throat. The knob rattled, and the door bounced in the frame. Holding my breath, I waited, hoping the voice I heard had been in my head and not actually outside the door.

Gruff, Russian-accented curses muffled by the door filtered toward me.

This was bad. So, so, so, so bad. I grabbed my bag, jumping to my feet.

My head swiveled, desperately seeking another exit or a place to hide.

There wasn’t anything I could do about the mess I’d made with the food I finally found.

Metal scraped in the lock.

I was outta time.

I scrambled, heading toward the door. There was just enough space to tuck in behind it.

Hopefully, when it opened, whoever was on the other side would walk into the room, see the mess, and stop so I could sneak out behind them.

The problem with that was they knew this place better than I did, even though I had spent the entire night wandering the halls searching the rooms. I even took a shower when I found the locker room, something I hadn’t done in longer than I could, or wanted to remember.

I even found some new clothes. Not new-new, but new to me.

And they smelled clean. Afterward, I felt like a new guy.

I slid into place just as the door opened. I held my breath, and I watched the biggest man I think I’ve ever seen walk into the room.

He had to be six feet tall, if not taller. Probably closer to six-three or six-four. He towered over my five-eleven.

“What the hell happened in here? ”

I edged around the door, but my sneakers squeaked when they left the carpet for the tile.

The big guy turned, our eyes collided, and for a moment, the world stood still.

I took off at a run. Behind me, his deep rumbling voice echoed through empty halls.

The light coming in from the windows high on the outside walls told me it was still before daylight.

I made it to the lobby, running to the door, smacking into it, my hands on the push lever, and depressed the bar, but the door didn’t move. I was screwed.

Tears flooded. They burned their way up my throat. Pinpricks stabbed the back of my eyes.

“Kid, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Turning, I looked at the guy. I hated judging a book by the cover, but I couldn’t help myself. He was massive. Nearly as wide as he was tall.

“Said everyone who’s ever hurt me in the past.”

I took off down the hall away from him. He was hot on my heels. For a big guy, he was fast. Really fast.

I raced into the arena, down the stands, and around the rink to the opposite side of the building. I got to another door. The one I came in through last night, hoping it would open. But, of course, it didn’t.

I collapsed on the floor, my back to the hallway wall. Defeat pummeled me, knocking out the dam holding back the tears that clogged my throat and filled my eyes. Big fat droplets fell. I knocked them off my face, but they came so hard and fast that it was no use. So, I stopped.

The footsteps that pounded after me stopped several feet away.

The guy huffed a breath, but I kept my eyes averted.

Until a jangle sounded. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of light just before he tossed something into the air.

The unmistakable sound of keys hitting the ground filled the near silence between us, echoing off the walls.

“The doors are locked. You can’t get out without a key. Although I don’t know how you got in without a key either, but that’s not the point.”

“Are you Russian?”

“No. I’m Croatian. And you?”

I shrugged, chewing my lip while trying to force myself to look at him. My eyes made it to his shoes before darting away.

“I dunno. Plain old American?”

“Nothing wrong with that. Wanna tell me how you got into my rink?”

Oh crap!

I swallowed, then asked, “This is your place?”

“Yes, but that didn’t answer my question.”

I nodded at the door I sat next to. “I came in through that door.”

“So did you pick the lock, or do I need to fire someone?”

The corner of my eyes pulled. I shrugged, and he laughed. A full-on belly laugh. Was he demented?

“Well, that didn’t work the way I hoped.”

My brow pinched at his words. What did that mean?

“Can’t fire myself or the wife, and since we were the last to leave last night, it’s on us. Which means, I know you picked the lock.”

I swallowed, nodding my head as I said, “Yes, sir.”

“Humph. Well, I guess you have two options. One, you can pick up the keys, unlock the door, and disappear, or two…”