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CHAPTER 7

LOGAN

I hadn’t slept for more than an hour last night. I’d been so amped up on adrenaline, pure lust, and want that the best I could do was stare at the ceiling, trying to plot my next move.

Unfortunately, all I could come up with was Googling Tyler Miller’s girlfriend and seeing if anything came up.

It didn’t.

No one cared about Tyler Miller. Satisfying, but not helpful for my current predicament.

My phone buzzed on the desk next to me, and I sighed as I picked it up, ready for what I knew was coming from the guys.

Ari: So, Rookie. You still auditioning for an episode of “Days of Our Lives”?

Walker: I was thinking more Broadway? The dramatic kiss? The brawl?

Lincoln: …

Camden: “As the Ice Melts” starring Logan York.

Ari: That was really bad, Hero. I’m disappointed in you.

Me: It could have been worse.

Ari: You kissed someone’s girlfriend in front of a whole arena and got into like ten fights. How could it have been worse? There’s probably an indentation of your ass in the penalty box.

Walker: I did like the dip. Personally, I would have added a twirl. But it gave good energy.

Ari: You would say that, Disney, you simp.

Me: I was making a point, okay?

Camden: Oh, we got the point. The point was: “I’m a lunatic.” Loud and clear.

Ari: Pot meet kettle, Hero. My big toe is never going to recover from your antics for Anastasia.

Camden: …

Me: Can we admit that the last bit was awesome?

Lincoln: …

Ari: Are we talking about the dramatic double bird flip? Because was it really necessary? Although I’m grateful you didn’t moon him for the grand finale.

Camden: And let’s not forget the Joker grin at the end. I had a nightmare about that last night.

I preened at that revelation.

Me: Really?

Ari: I just scoffed out loud. Blake just gave me the look. The idea that you could be the stuff of nightmares is hilarious.

I frowned.

Me: I can be scary! And I definitely got under his skin. Did you see his face? I was in his head.

Lincoln: You are also inches away from being out of the lineup for Game 2.

Well, yes, that was unfortunate.

Ari: Is this a “just the tip” joke?

Ari: Honestly, I don’t know what’s worse—your unhinged behavior or the fact that you didn’t even get the girl.

Me: It’s early, my dude. The good ones always take more than one try.

Camden: Did you just call him, “my dude”?

Walker: Disappointed in you, Rookie. Very un-circle of trust like behavior.

Me: …

They were almost making me feel bad. Almost being the operative word. While I didn’t want to let down the team, the feel of her lips…

I’d gotten off three times today just remembering them.

Better not tell them that, though.

Me: No more grand gestures. Noted.

Camden: I think, and correct me if I’m wrong, gentlemen, that we’re saying get a better grand gesture. One that doesn’t leave us a man down for a majority of the game.

Ari: Or Geraldine’s dogs. I would like those wild beasts kept out of all future grand gestures.

Lincoln: It wasn’t that bad.

I raised an eyebrow.

Ari: I almost died, Golden Boy! I could have frozen to death.

Camden: Would that have been before or after you lost your big toe?

Ari: I feel like you’re mocking me right now. And I don’t appreciate that since you owe me for the rest of your life.

Me: Which is significantly less than the rest of us.

I gave myself a mental high five. I always liked when I could get a good grandpa joke in on Camden.

Walker: That was a good one, Rookie.

Ari: You still aren’t forgiven.

I scoffed.

Me: Can I remind you all of the sacrifice I made that night! I stood there posing in my briefs, in her living room, for hours.

Camden had come up with a plan to get his now-wife, Anastasia, to move in with him. Long story short, I had been left behind to entertain his seventy or eighty-something-year-old neighbor, Geraldine, in exchange for the use of her dogs. I still didn’t know all the details of what had happened that night—and why they’d needed the dogs—but I did know that they’d gotten the better deal. Geraldine was…well, she was something.

Camden: …

Ari: …

Walker: Why did I miss that night again?

Ari: And I still want to know what you were posing for.

Well, I wasn’t going to tell him that.

Lincoln: Regardless, don’t fuck up tonight. Monroe likes me better when I’m holding a Stanley Cup.

I snorted at that. I was pretty sure Monroe’s obsession with him had nothing to do with Stanley Cups.

Me: Got it. Don’t show up with roses and a boom box.

Ari: I feel like we’ve taught you nothing.

Setting down the phone, I shook my head. I was pretty sure I could do almost anything, and it would still be better than the tidbits I knew about what they’d done to get their girls.

Drumming my fingers, I came up with my next plan.

Security tapes.

There were all kinds of facial recognition software, right? I could get some tape of the game from the security guys—who loved me by the way since I always brought them treats. After I’d almost gotten mauled by a group of crazy girls who were nuttier than a bowl of Cheerios, I had made sure that I was always in the good graces of the security team. I shuddered to think of the state of my balls if they hadn’t pulled that one chick off me.

Picking up my phone again, I called Ernie, who was one of the managers of the security team.

“Ernie, my man, how are you?” I asked as soon as he picked up.

“What do you need, Logan?” he drawled.

Right to the point, I liked it. It was like he could sense the urgent chaos whirling around inside me that demanded I find out who that girl was. Now.

“I need some security tape from last night.”

“Of your five billion fights?”

I snorted. That was a little bit of an exaggeration.

“As great for posterity as that would be, I actually need it of a certain portion of the crowd."

He paused for way too long, and I started to get antsy. “We have privacy laws, I could get in trouble,” he finally muttered.

“Need I remind you I brought some of Mrs. Bentley’s burritos to you last week out of my limited stock?” I answered sternly. Sternly because I would have much rather eaten them myself if I knew he was going to give me trouble.

There was another long pause. This guy had to be the king of them.

“Two batches next week?”

I thought hard about it. I’d have to convince Lincoln of that since Mrs. Bentley was technically his housekeeper and not my personal chef…but that was probably doable.

“Deal.”

There was no pause this time.

“Alright, where do you need video of?”

Twenty minutes later I was staring at her image on the screen, zooming in so I could try and get the full experience. Everything on the ice had happened so fast, I hadn’t gotten time to savor her.

Was she doing all right after her fall?

Finally admitting to myself that staring at her on a screen wasn’t going to get me any closer to my goal, I tried ticketing next. They weren’t any help because Tyler Miller had purchased those seats, and he hadn’t assigned names to them.

I was actually going to have to use facial recognition software after all. That was going to be a stretch of my capabilities.

I picked up my phone and texted the group.

Me: I need some software.

Ari: I find it unreal that you’re asking for favors right now.

I sent a picture of Geraldine’s dog, Fluffy.

Me: Need I remind all of you, that the Circle is in debt to me. Perhaps forever.

Lincoln: So an old broad took some pictures of you, when are you going to get over this?

Ari: Don’t call my bestie an “old broad.” Have some respect.

Ari: But also…Fifi’s balls literally hit my face. I almost got them in my mouth.

Lincoln: …

Camden: This is the first time I’m hearing this part of the story…and the dog’s name is Fluffy.

Ari: The rest of the story was bad enough. It’s hard for me to talk about that part.

Walker: Once again, I’ll state for the record that I’m going to forever mourn the fact I wasn’t there that night.

Me: Lamaze class does come with a price.

Ari: Why did we move on from my trauma so fast?

I huffed out a laugh.

Me: Can we focus? I need facial recognition software.

Walker: Why do all of our conversations in this group make me worry that the FBI is going to burst through my door at any moment and take my phone and computer?

Ari: Don’t say FBI! That triggers something in the algorithm. That’s when they start stalking you.

Walker: You literally just said FBI.

Ari: You did it again!

Me: Focus! We have to be at the arena in like three hours.

Lincoln: Surprised you remembered that, Rookie.

Me: …

Lincoln: I’ll send a program over.

I whooped, because if anyone was going to have that kind of program, it was going to be him. Besides being a star hockey player, he’d inherited an insane amount of wealth thanks to his father’s hedge fund and some wise investments with his trust. He also seemed to “always have a guy.” Also, why I aspired to be like him. He was very useful…and terrifying.

Ari: Anyone else think Golden Boy epitomizes “Spooky Sexy.”

Lincoln: …

My email showed a message from him, and I grinned when I clicked on the program he’d attached and it immediately started loading.

Lincoln Daniels was a fucking king.

* * *

After some trial and error, because I sucked at technology…it came up.

Sloane Calloway.

A pretty name for the fucking most gorgeous girl on the planet.

But that was it.

Unlike with the other faces around her, the software program didn’t have any extra details on Sloane. No address, no occupation…nothing I could use to find out more about her. I could find out all I wanted about the woman who’d been sitting two seats down from her—seventy-five-year-old Dorothy, who’d previously worked as a bank teller if you were wondering—but nothing on Sloane.

Groaning in disappointment, I stared at her face on the screen, resisting the urge to grab my dick because I was so hard I was a little worried it was going to explode.

I would just have to move to the next stage of the plan…using Lincoln’s PI. Surely he’d be able to find out some information on her.

If not, I’d just have to ask her. Something that, ironically, was not the easiest part of the plan.