Page 1 of Slashed By You (Chicago Steel #5)

Chapter 1

Josh

September 2017

W alking into the locker room of my new team, the Chicago Steel, I feel the familiar rush of excitement flood through my veins. The emotion in the air causes me to hold my breath. I am so thrilled to be here, on this team. Leaving Arizona wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. I suck a deep breath into my lungs and my chest seizes. At the same time, my baby-blue eyes begin to water. What the hell? Am I crying? Wiping at my teary eyes, I realize they’re also burning. My nose picks up the pungent odor of bleach that permeates the room. “Guess that’s better than sweaty hockey gear.” I laugh under my breath. Walking farther into the space, I see all the names of my new teammates, and it makes me smile.

Spinning around, I notice the cubbies are all grouped by position. When my eyes land on mine, I see it’s already been filled with my gear. Stepping closer, I run my hand over my new jersey. I’m a member of the Chicago fucking Steel. Pride fills my chest. Voices travel down the hallway and my nerves slam into me just like a forward trying to get past me in front of the net. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was until this moment. My palms sweat and my shoulders tighten. Lowering myself onto the bench in front of me, I roll my head back and forth, trying to loosen the tension crawling up my neck. The voices get closer, and I force a smile to my lips just as the locker room door swings open, putting me face-to-face with some of my new teammates.

“You’re Josh Logan,” Ludkov, one of the more well-known defensemen, says as he sizes me up. As a professional athlete playing the same position, I get it. There are rumors he’s planning to retire in the next few years. He’s probably questioning if I’m here to take his slot.

Standing up, I run my hand through my white-blond hair. I realize I’m desperate to make a good impression on my new team. “Last I checked,” I answer with a laugh. He smiles, then steps away. Another few of the guys give me chin lifts or fist bumps as a greeting. As I start dressing, my mind wanders to my career. So far, I’ve been fortunate to put up decent numbers, building a reputation as a solid defenseman. In researching the Steel prior to my transfer, I studied tape to better understand what I could expect. Earning your spot on a starting line depended on the chemistry and effectiveness you developed with your teammates. I hoped that by identifying my teammates’ strengths, I’d better understand whom I’d best play with. It was a risk, and I could be completely wrong, but I’m hopeful my investment will be worthwhile. So far, the player I’m most excited to skate with is Connor Jefferies. His speed and puck handling are unmatched, and his reputation in the league is untarnished. As far as they were concerned, he could do no wrong, and everything he did was impressive. As a center, he made things happen. It didn’t matter if they seemed impossible or improbable. From what I’d seen, his overall skills are remarkable, and I can’t wait to experience it live.

The build-up to today was excruciating. Coming to a new team was an adjustment, and I expected some growing pains, but I didn’t expect to be so tightly wound. Leaving my old team, the Arizona Jaguars, was tough. Mostly, I liked my old team, even if our record was shit.

Sitting down, I consider it all. Arizona was in a rebuilding period. In the last year, they’d been working on team dynamics and chemistry. Before I left, the organization had experienced some shake-ups. Most of us had survived, coming back stronger than ever, but the team lost a major component—the head coach. Management had hired a younger, greener coach who’d yet to prove his worth to replace him. In his first year, Coach Steve had been all over the place. His lack of experience left us confused and without direction. It’s a wonder we managed any wins. It felt like a giant clusterfuck. Basically, it proved to be the perfect time to get out.Even if I’d been willing to give the new coach a chance to get his feet under him, my grandfather’s passing was the final push I needed to leave. But leaving was bittersweet.

My knee bounces harder as I try to tamp down those memories, but the fight with my father that came after the funeral always seems to worm its way into my head; his voice incessant, aggressive, and accusing.

W hen William Issac Logan Sr. died, the need to leave became absolutely necessary. The environment surrounding his death, and his inheritance, had become toxic. From the moment I received a call from my mother that my grandfather had passed, everything decent about my father had vanished. He’d always been entitled, but after reading his father’s will, he became angry and demanding. And a narcissistic asshole. Every conversation we had was always the same. He thought he was being cheated. It was exhausting trying to communicate with him. His acidic accusations about how I stole his birthright were non-stop.

“You don’t even deserve it. I’m the next in line. It’s mine,” he said.

One day it was too much. Unable to ignore him, and tired of our interactions, I finally responded, giving him what he wanted—a fight. Growling, I spit, “I didn’t ask for it. If you’ve got a problem with grandfather’s will, talk to him about it. Otherwise, shut the fuck up and leave me alone.”

Normally, I’d just grunt and mutter something under my breath that my father wouldn’t pay attention to. But finally, I’d had enough. My father wasn’t the victim he claimed to be. Grandfather was a smart man. He’d learned that it would be a disservice to Logan Electric customers and its employees if he left my father in charge. True, I knew nothing about running the company, but my grandfather knew I would treat it with the same care he had. I was a born leader, and I cared about people.

After my harsh words to my father, I stormed out of the house and sat on the aging deck swing my parents had had since I was a child. No longer pristinely painted, I ran my fingers along the weathered and peeling wood and thought. What is it about people behaving their absolute worst after a loved one dies? When we should have been supporting each other through the heartache, my father began acting irate and unreasonable . I still didn’t know what the will stated. I’d only picked up bits and pieces when my father was ranting. But I knew I needed to find out. Especially if Grandfather intended me to take over. That was an enormous responsibility, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. Questions flooded my mind as I considered what running Logan Electric meant.

A few days later, when I’d cooled off, I visited my parents for a family dinner. However, despite my mother’s pleas, my father was in a drunken tirade, spouting off. Through his ramblings, I learned more of what the will included. Apparently, what he was inheriting was not to the liking of William Logan, Jr.

I’d had to sit there and listen while he’d snarled my name several times, and each time I heard it, I cringed. I’d need a lawyer to help me understand all the legal jargon in the will. But one thing I knew for sure was that it had turned my father from a grieving son into an angry dick.

My grandparents were stable members of the community. Grandfather met my grandma, Darla, after starting Logan Electric. At that same time, he also established himself as one of the most respected men in the industry.

Darla was only a few years younger, twenty-four to his twenty-eight. Unlike most women her age, she’d pursued a different path. Instead of marrying young like most of her peers, she’d sought higher education, earning a degree in business. Once she graduated, they married and joined forces, becoming a powerhouse in the field. When they were established and the business was stable, they decided to start a family. And after years of struggle, they finally got pregnant with their miracle baby—my father.

Being the only child, William Jr. assumed he would inherit everything his parents had worked so hard to build. But he, like many children who were raised with money, never showed the desire to take over Logan Electric. And so grandfather made other arrangements. Unbeknownst to me, I’d been selected. Because of that, my father was in a tizzy. Doing everything he could think of to unseat me. But as the lawyers explained, grandfather’s will was ironclad, and I would be the face of the company.

Scary as that knowledge was, I was grateful that it included a clause that afforded me some much-needed time. Grandfather stipulated I couldn’t take over as CEO until I was thirty-five. So being that I was only twenty-one, I didn’t have to make any drastic changes yet. Until I’m of age, I’m off the hook, and a proxy, selected by the board, will serve as the head of Logan Electric.

S itting in the locker room, staring at the Steel logo at my feet, I question whether I made the right choice. Stepping away from the family drama has left my stomach in knots, instead of the relief I expected. Each piece of information revealed by the attorneys about my grandfather’s estate made me sick to my stomach. It was all in limbo, and until the proxy was selected and my father stopped causing a ruckus, it would only get worse. Questions constantly flooded my mind, and the answers eluded me.

To those close to me, my leaving Arizona for Chicago made little sense. But it was a necessary choice for self-preservation. Without it, I wouldn’t have a chance at a semi-normal life. As a professional athlete, you’re used to the media, but those in Chicago know nothing about how I became a billionaire overnight. And staying in Arizona would have continued to make my life hell. And I hope all the lies, fake stories, and soap opera moments they turned my life into will stay on that side of the country.

I continue dressing in my gear as a few more guys come in. I feel someone approach from behind. Turning, I recognize him immediately. “Grady. How are you?” I say confidently as I extend my hand to him.

Shaking it, he answers, “I’m great, man. It’s good to have you on the team, Josh.”

Grady Roberts, another impressive defenseman, is a force not just on the ice. Let’s just say he has intimidation down. At 6’5” and 250 lbs., he’s huge. He greets me with a smile, but every picture I’ve ever seen of him shows a deep scowl on his face. His bright blue eyes are piercing, giving him a tough edge. If that’s not enough, he has a buzz cut that reminds me of an Army Ranger and screams, mess with me, I dare you .

Grady has played the majority of his career for the Steel. He’s logged six years, half of that as the captain. From what I’ve heard, he’s promised a few more years. Until then, I’m planning to learn everything I can from him. My goal is to be captain one day, and I hope it’ll be with the Steel organization too.

Once Grady moves on, most of my other new teammates come by and introduce themselves. Overall, they seem like a decent group of guys. I already know their skills on the ice, andI’m excited about this fresh start.

T he last few weeks of practice and training camp have been grueling, leaving me achy and sore. I should be physically and mentally exhausted. Instead, I feel energized, moody, and more than ready to blow off some steam. Hoots and catcalls fill the air as we enter the club. Our rockstar entrance only drives up the adrenaline coursing through my body. Did they know we were coming?

The air is thick, like the club released a pheromone directly through the air conditioner, attracting every available woman nearby. Within moments of entering the VIP section, we’re surrounded. I’ve had my fair share of puck bunny conquests over the years, and I’m getting tired of it. Their games don’t have the same thrill they once did. For me, it isn’t about the easy score anymore. Now I’m looking for something that requires a bit more effort.

Kicking back with a beer on the black leather couch, I watch the show before me. Lights dance and music thumps as bodies grind up against each other. Watching our rookies is the best. They are goldfish in a sea of piranhas, and they have no chance of survival. These women are no joke. And it’s fucking hilarious.All I need is some popcorn to enjoy this live-action soap opera in front of me.

Looking to my left, I see Ludkov also enjoying the show, and we exchange a smirk. Being new to the team, I don’t know my teammates that well. I don’t know what I’ll see tonight. It’s anyone’s guess. In Arizona, I knew which of my teammates were faithful, flirty, or filthy. Here, I watch with rapt attention. Sure, I have my assumptions, but I’ve learned that people don’t always do what you expect of them. When I see Abe and Steve, two teammates with wives at home, getting friendly with some ladies, my stomach drops. Come on, don’t be those guys. Respect your wives.

Not wanting to see their blatant adulterous trysts, I turn back toward the rookies, who I know are single. Even if I didn’t know them, our rookies would be easy to spot because their eyes are as big as saucers. Their tongues are practically wagging.And their smiles… Fuck. They grow wider the more the women rub up against them. For these guys, they’ve just figured out this place is the adult version of Chuck E. Cheese. It’s like they’ve never seen a scantily dressed woman willing to do anything your heart desires. The only thing it’ll cost you is a little limelight.

Thankful I’m not part of the chaos, I kick my legs out in front of me, making myself more comfortable. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a brunette on a slow approach. She’s a looker, for sure. It’s hard to miss the royal blue dress she’s wearing because it’s wrapped tightly around her, showing off her best assets. When she gets to me, she lowers herself down, almost into my lap. Presumptuous, much? Not interested, I scoot myself over and she follows, again trying to glue herself to my side like we’re a thing. We aren’t. I’ve never seen this woman before. And, yes, I get she is beautiful, but there’s something about her that sits wrong with me. I’m all for a confident, independent woman who knows what she wants. But when she crosses into arrogance, I’m totally turned off. To me, that seems more desperate than attractive. It’s not all about a woman’s looks for me. I want something more.

Again, I try to add some distance between us, but she doesn’t take the hint. Instead, she starts touching me. Really? Annoyed, I make a huffing sound.

“Are you a grouchy boy? Do you need someone to make you feel all better?” Her syrupy-sweet baby voice makes my skin crawl.

“No,” I growl, using my tone as a warning. And, apparently, she isn’t as dense as I imagined because she gets up without another word and leaves. Most likely she’ll approach another player who’s more amenable to her games.

Relaxing back into the weirdly comfortable leather couch, which you’re more likely to see in a low-budget porno than in one’s living room, I take a pull off my cold beer. I’m here to unwind, nothing more. On some nights, I’d be in the thick of it. Front and center in the horde of ladies. But tonight, I’m not looking to get sucked off or have a quick fuck. No, tonight I’m here just to be. Take it all in. Learn the scene.

Grady approaches with a beer in hand and joins me. He’s taken me under his wing since I joined the team. I’ve become the captain’s protégé. Finally, he breaks the silence with his deep baritone voice. “I’m planning to head back to the hotel. You staying here?” Looking around, I don’t see anyone who remotely interests me, so I give him a chin raise to let him know I’m down. We drain the last of our beers before heading out.