Page 16 of These Wicked Games (Wicked Sins #1)

seven

Oli

M y head is fucking pounding.

Sitting on the bench in our locker room, I attempt to focus through the fog clinging to my brain.

First my team, then my rink, now my—well, Jessica.

Dammit, Jessica! What a goddamn traitor.

How could she just take him on like that?

She knows! She’s one of the few people who know why I hate him. How could she just sign him too?

We lost tonight . . . horribly. Five to one.

Great goalie my ass. Great job, Coach. While I think it, I know Coach has no say in trades, and our GM doesn’t give a shit how I feel about Andre.

While I want to place the blame on Andre, the rest of us weren’t any better.

I was sloppy, distracted. They scored on two power plays—one from me getting thrown into the penalty box for a bullshit hooking call, and then an empty net.

Shit is all messed up. This was what I was worried about. How can I focus with him here?

“Well, that was fun.” Atlas walks in shaking his head. Coach has already chewed our asses, and I’ve been sitting on the bench for nearly ten minutes waiting for everyone else to shower and change and yeah, maybe avoiding a certain goalie dickhead.

“Did you have fun with that Destiny chick the other night?” I ask, just needing a distraction.

We haven’t talked much since then. I’ve been actively avoiding thinking about that night at The Treasure House, seeing Andre so entranced with that man, then his comments after .

. . and my reaction to them. I did apologize to Grey for what I said, though. I do feel bad about that.

“The fucking best.” Atlas winks. “How was Monica? You and Grey do a little tag team?”

“We didn’t hook up. Not sure about Grey.” I tug my jersey off as the man in question walks in with a towel slung low on his hips. Atlas’s eyes snap to Grey, giving him a once over before looking back to me. “Did you have fun at least, with Monica?”

“Oh, I had fun. Just not with her. I wasn’t her type,” Grey says then freezes, looking over at us both. “We had fun, though. Right, Oli?”

Um . “Yeah, yeah it was fine.” Those thoughts summon Andre in my mind. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something about him, but I’m not about to out someone—no matter how much I fucking hate them. Andre’s business is Andre’s business.

“Where did you guys end up?”

“Another nightclub,” Grey says quickly .

“Didn’t stay out much longer.” I crack my neck.

My mind is still fucked up and this loss sets us back.

At least that’s how it feels. I know the season just started but I feel every loss because my sights are set on the Cup this year.

I’ve worked too hard. We’ve built this team up and this is our fucking year.

As if the universe hasn’t done enough lately, I feel Andre before I see him walk into the locker room, his helmet in hand, still dressed in most of his gear.

Shaking my head, I focus on what I can control, and that is not punching Andre in the face in front of everyone.

Honestly, he played like shit, so maybe they’d let me.

“Hey, newbie.” Andre frowns, turning to Atlas.

“You better not fuck up our game against the Hydras on Saturday. Today was horseshit.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I know you guys love to almost be in the playoffs. Was that not intentional?” He smirks.

Atlas’s mouth drops. Fuck, I don’t have the energy for this. “Don’t mind him, Atlas. Daddy can’t help him here. He must be a little lost.”

“I’m a great fucking goalie. Without Tripp.” Andre glowers. “It’s why I was signed. The GM said they needed help. Something about shitty offense and terrible D-men. Looks like he was right.”

“Fuck you, I’m a great—” Grey presses Atlas back, shaking his head.

“Enough.” He looks back at Andre, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Both of you.”

Ryker walks in, freezing when he looks at all of us. “Whoa, what’s going on?”

“Our new goalie’s a dick,” Atlas growls.

Andre chuckles as Grey lets him go. “Just making nice is all. ”

Ryker shakes his head. “Yeah well, make nice during our next game. That shit was ass.” He looks around the locker room. “What the fuck was that on the ice, Oli?”

I just want to go home, but unfortunately, we’re in New York. I just want to crash in my own bed and forget the joke the universe is making of my life right now. “We’ve got this, against the Hydras.” Tomorrow we catch our flight to Chesapeake Bay and I really need to get my head straight.

While I’m sitting here, I debate on what I have to do to get him out of here. Short of killing or maiming him I’m coming up blank. I hate this, but whether I like it or not, we need him.

Fuck, that tasted gross.

“Well, we’re in New York and you know what that means, fellas.” Ryker puts his hands on his knees, shaking his ass in a poor attempt at twerking, blinding us all with his shitty dance skills. “Come on, guys! Who’s going with me?” he sing-songs. God, he’s ridiculous.

“No.” Colton walks in, frowning, watching Ryker make an idiot of himself. “No fucking way.”

“Come on!” He keeps dancing terribly. Someone needs to stop this.

“Who’s going out with me tonight? The Charm Box is ready and waiting.

” Ryker grins, looking at us. A couple of other guys walk in but his sights are set on us.

Most of the other guys on the team have wives or girlfriends, and Ryker’s idea of fun usually means him and as many women as he can get together in bed at the end of the night.

Especially when it involves The Charm Box. “Grey? ”

“No. I don’t know why we have to go every time we play New York.” He shudders. “Remember last time? I still have nightmares.” He shivers. “Picking glitter out of my pubes for days.”

“Mm, thank you for that, Grey. Now I really don’t want to go.” Colton goes to his locker, sinking onto the bench.

“The women employed at the club do not wear glitter,” Ryker says. “I think some of the bartenders do but—”

“I don’t want to go!” Grey cuts him off.

“Why? The Charm Box is amazing.”

“If you love orgies.”

“So . . . amazing.” Ryker grins. Unlike a lot of us, Ryker is very loud and open about how much money he makes and that he’s a professional athlete.

Picking up women has never been an issue for him with his classic good looks and multicolored eyes that promise sinful fun.

On top of winning the genetic lottery he’s also charming as fuck.

He’s trouble incarnate. “I’m looking for an all-time high tonight.

It’s ladies night. You guys need to come. ”

“The mafia sex club?” Andre asks.

Ryker makes a motion with his hand, cutting his throat. “Don’t say that shit out loud. Allegedly mafia run. And it’s not a sex club!” The Charm Box is an infamous club that is allegedly owned by the Morozov family. It’s known for its high price tag and wicked nature.

“It’s a sex club.” Grey shakes his head. “And definitely mafia owned. Not again.”

“You literally are an eighty-year-old man in a thirty-two-year-old body. Seriously. If there’s a choice between eating pussy or not eating pussy, why are you always taking the not option?” Ryker shakes his head. “You guys really disappoint me sometimes. ”

Wolf just shakes his head as his eyes lift to mine, pleading for help.

“I’ll go with you.” Andre turns his head toward me but I ignore him.

Every time I look at him my fists get punchy, my jaw clenchy.

Tonight was a shitshow, but I refuse to let him affect me anymore.

I need to get my head straight. What have I done to the GM to make him put me through this?

I’m a great captain—one of the lead scorers on our team—and that man went, “You know what? Oli hasn’t been through enough .

Let’s make his fucking rival the netminder. ”

Why did Andre even leave the Vipers? Now that’s the fucking question.

The Vipers have always been one of the top teams, and if they keep up their pace they have a great shot at the playoffs.

Why leave a great team for a team below?

It doesn’t make sense. I guess if I ever start to understand how Andre’s fucking mind works the way it does, I’ll go insane. “Oli?”

My eyes lift to Ryker. “Huh?”

“I was asking if you want to ride with me from the hotel or meet me at Charm.” Fuck, I don’t care. Honestly, I just wanted to go crash and forget today even happened. I can’t even blame Andre alone for the game.

Fuck it. I will blame him for it.

My game is off and I’m letting him get to me.

I’m just so pissed. Why is he fucking here?

I swear he got traded just to piss me off, as if he hadn’t already ruined my life enough.

It makes sense. Andre’s a fucking spoiled brat.

Why wouldn’t he show that he can also come here and take my team from me?

He already took my shot at my dream team.

Why not try to steal this one away too? Fuck!

“Kuli?” I look up, meeting Atlas’s eyes. “You alright? ”

No. No I’m not. I feel off, and odd. Both exhausted and also amped up. “Yeah, just a rough game.” My eyes lift to Grey who takes his towel off. Averting my eyes, I look back up at Atlas and catch him watching Grey before focusing back on me. “You alright?”

“Uh, yeah.” Atlas throws on a smile. “Can I come too?” Ryker fist-pumps, which looks ridiculous for a nearly six-foot-five man to do. “Who knows, maybe Mrs. Sgarbossa is there waiting for me.”

Ryker stops his dancing to glare straight at Atlas.

“Ew, get wifed up on your own time.” He dresses, and while my friends play fight I focus on getting ready for a shower.

I strip down, putting my dirty clothes in a bag, and grab my towel, doing my best not to look in Andre’s direction.

My intrusive thoughts tell me to elbow him as I pass by, but fighting in the nude just isn’t my style.