Iron Cross: The Dartmouth Cobras #6 (17 page)

Luke smiled a little, but he couldn’t help wondering if Sam was just saying what she thought he wanted to hear. The movie, her being all understanding, was bringing back memories. But she wasn’t the little girl he’d looked out for, the sixteen
-year-old girl he’d gotten in a fight for with one of the toughest guys in the league just to protect her “honor.” He couldn’t say for sure he knew her at all. Or if he ever had.

“I brought out the Van Wilder movies. I know you love those.” Sam stood and went to the DVD player to put on another disc. “You want me to stay and watch it with you?”

He almost said yes. He wanted those times when they could chill out and talk and she could just be his little sister. If he could, he’d pretend like she’d never hurt his mother so badly. That his mother hadn’t asked for Sam when she was sure she was going to die.

But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

“Naw, I’m just gonna sleep anyway.” Fuck, he could tell she was gonna cry again and he felt like he was being an asshole. Which was messed up because he was doing his best. He hadn’t asked her to get lost for a couple hours at least. That had to coun
t. Bear nudged his palm with his cold, wet nose and he grinned at his puppy. He had an idea. “You wanna let him out back? He’s probably gotta go.”

“You trust me with your dog?” Sam gave him a brilliant smile, the same one she’d given him when he’d cheered her on while teaching her to skate and she slid the first few feet on her own.

He returned her smile with a crooked one of his own. “He’s Jami and Seb’s dog too. Jami won’t be so nice if you hurt Bear and…well, you think you’re scared of Seb now?”

“Got it.” Sam opened the door and called sweetly to Bear. “Come on,
handsome boy! Outside?”

Bear looked at Luke, then hurried after Sam. Luke rolled to his side, sleep pulling him down, his eyes drifting shut. But he couldn’t sleep until he heard the click of Bear’s nails on the kitchen tiles. This was the punk’s chance to prove to him she’d changed.

The problem was, he had a feeling he’d regret it.

R
aif took over one of the sofas in the players’ lounge, resting his eyes for a few moments before getting suited up for the game. The laughter of the men, the quiet chatter, faded away as he eased into an almost meditative state. He sensed a cold coming on, but he wasn’t concerned about it affecting his play. He was in good health and tended to shake viruses fairly quickly.

Louder laughter and a few
whistles from the rookies brought up from the minors to replace Carter, Demyan…and Tyler. Raif slit his eyes open, eager for the three to finish their suspension. Mostly Tyler—denial was pointless. After a couple of games with the obnoxious rookies, he’d welcome even Demyan’s return. He glanced over at Zach and saw how he struggled to get loose from the grip their big goalie had on his arm. The goalie, Bower, looked ready to go after the rookies himself.

Jebi ga.
Raif sat up as Rebecca Pearce headed toward him, ignoring both her brother and her husband. Rage blazed in her eyes, her whole body shook with it as she stopped in front of him, feet shoulder-width apart as though prepared for a fight. He moved to stand out of respect.

She shook her head and spoke through her teeth. “Sit. You’re going to sit there and listen to me, you sneaky son of a bitch.”

Zach twisted away from Bower. “Becky—”

“Shut up, Zach. If you won’t stand up for our relationship, then I will.” Her
gray eyes flashed like lightning leaping between storm clouds. “I’ve had to tell bitches to back off my men, but I never thought I’d have to deal with one of their teammates. Zach’s a married man and that marriage includes Scott as much as it does me. If that hasn’t been made clear enough, it better be now.”

Quite an outspoken little thing, but Raif had no idea what she was talking about. Granted, he’d considered making a move at one point, but since Zach had made it perfectly clear he loved Demyan, Raif had backed off. Their time together was purely platonic, usually right here. His one consolation was that their friendship remained unscathed.

“That has been made clear,
draga
.” He shook his head when she blinked at him, and Bower gave him a hostile look. “Dear. I apologize, I mean it in all due respect.”

“You have my husband lying about where he goes during the day. You call that respect?”

Raif frowned and glanced over at Zach, who gave a covert shake of his head. The man
wanted
his wife to believe he’d been with Raif? When exactly? Today?

We will have words, my friend.
Squaring his shoulders, Raif smiled at Becky. “Zach and I have history, but I see no reason for you to feel threatened. And I suggest any further issues be addressed to your husband.”

“You cocky bastard, you—”

“Becky, I need to see you in my office.” Callahan strode through the room, his dark eyes simmering with rage as he approached Becky. Becky’s lips parted as Zach and her brother blocked the assistant coach. Callahan shoved Bower out of his way. “
Now
.”

“You better fucking watch it,
Coach
.” Bower cracked the back of his hand into Callahan’s chest. “You ain’t her goddamn boss.”

“But I am yours. So back off.”

“Whatever you have to say to her, you can say here. I’m not letting you blast her.”

“I don’t recall asking your permission.”

Ovo je sve zajebano!
So very fucked up, but the words in English didn’t match the intensity of the equivalent in his own language. Most of the players looked on in silence. The rookies elbowed one another, grinning.

Becky held her hand up to her brother and followed Callahan to his office. Bower turned to glare at the rookies. His shoulder slammed into Zach’s as he strode to the locker room.

Zach rubbed his hand over his face and groaned. “I’m really making a mess of things. Sorry, man.”

“I’ve never known you to be dishonest, Zach. What’s really going on?” Raif kept his voice low as he approached Zach. He wanted to put his hand on Zach’s shoulder in support, knowing his friend was going through something serious, but they’d drawn enough attention to themselves. “If it is an illness you should—”

“I’m not sick. Believe me, I would tell them if it was something like that. I can’t tell you more.”

“Considering you’ve involved me, I think you owe me an explanation.”

“Yes. I’m aware of that.” Letting out a sound of frustration, Zach shook his head and moved to pass by Raif. This time Raif did put his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“You are hurting the people you love.”

“The damage would be so much worse if this got out. Leave it alone, Raif.”

There was no use in pushing Zach any further, Raif recalled exactly how stubborn he could be. He watched Zach disappear into the locker room, following only once most of the team was inside. They didn’t speak again as the clock counted down the minutes until the game would begin, which was probably for the best. Becky had walked out of the coach’s office and departed with her head down, looking red-faced with both anger and embarrassment. Aside from the rookies, the players were awkwardly silent. The captain, Dominik Mason, attempted to rouse up the men before they walked
down the hall out to the ice, but his “Let’s get em, boys!” failed to reach through the lingering unease.

From the second the puck hit the ice, Raif could tell they would spend the game chasing the Red
Wings. The lines were completely redone, and Callahan audibly ground his teeth as the head coach stupidly experimented with untried trios.

Raif
cracked his knee hard on the board in surprise when he was sent out with Richards, a rookie who actually had the experience and skill to play on this level, but whom Raif had never done so much as a scrimmage with, and one of the new boys, Chris Spooner. The kid drove between the Wings’ forwards, snatching up the puck smoothly, but refused to pass to Richards, even though he was well positioned for a breakaway.

Doing his best to read Spooner’s erratic play, Raif sped into the offensive zone, keeping his stick low in case the kid ever decided to toss the puck his way. It didn’t take long to figure out Spooner wasn’t a team player. He took a shot right into a well-placed crowd of Wings, forcing the Cobras to retreat as the Wings went back on the attack.

Bower stretched out to catch the snap shot zipping toward the top left corner of the net. He went down to cover the puck as a forward slammed into him and the puck hit the blue ice. Mason hauled the Wing off the goalie and without warning, threw his fist in the man’s face. The ref immediately separated the two.

Mason was ejected from the game for misconduct. The head coach called a time
-out.

They weren’t even ten minutes into the first period.

“What the fuck, Spooner! I was wide open!” Richards pushed Spooner into the boards as they skated up to join the rest of the team. “We’d be screwed if Bower hadn’t robbed them!”

“You know what, Richards?” Spooner leaned his forearms on the boards and gyrated his hips. “Why don’t you blow me? Might help relieve some stress.”

“Careful, Spooner, he might take you up on that.” Another one of the new rookies, Louis Caron, punched the third rookie, Brad Kelly, in the shoulder. “He’s one of the pretty ones—bet he likes sucking cock.”

A few feet away
, the backup goalie, Dave Hunt, stood, stick in hand, looking ready to decapitate the three of them with it. “You better watch your mouth, Caron.”

“Afraid I’ll upset your boyfriend, Hunt?”

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend!”

“Damn it, that’s enough.” Callahan jerked Caron down to the bench by the back of his collar, glaring at the head coach who was going over something in his notebook with Mason and Ramos, oblivious to the rest of the team. Raif expected the assistant coach to tear the rookies a new one for their ignorant comments. Instead, Callahan went over to Hunt and took his stick away, propping it against the wall just out of reach. “I’d love to let you at them, sport, but we need them for the rest of this game at least.”

“You can’t do this without us, Callahan!” Spooner fist pumped Kelly. “Admit it!”

“Not like it matters what he thinks.” Caron added, inching up to the edge of his seat when Callahan stopped behind him. He eyed the assistant coach warily. “Just sayin’.”

“How about you just sit there for the next couple shifts, Caron?” Callahan smiled stiffly as he slapped Caron’s shoulder. “We can spend some time together and discuss how much it
does
matter.”

“You’re up, Caron!” The head coach called.

Callahan looked ready to kill the rookie when Caron smirked at him and vaulted over the boards. Perron latched onto Callahan’s wrist.

How quickly the assistant coach jerked away from his best friend, a man he shared a woman with, worried Raif. Between the inflammatory remarks of the rookies going unpunished and the head coach’s blatant disregard for Callahan’s attempt at discipline, there were some serious issues behind the bench.

The loss hit the whole team harder than usual. A few more and they’d slide out of the last place seat on the Eastern conference, but even that wasn’t enough to explain the lack of exchange between the men as they trailed out. As though they had better places to be. Better people to be around.

Rifts happened on every team—had happened with the Cobras before from what Raif had heard. This was different. The comments from the rookies hadn’t stopped and hadn’t been challenged by many. It was hard not to wonder at the clear division forming between the men who lived alternative lifestyles and
…everyone else. Not a single man spoke to Zach, but Raif might have taken the blame for that if only those close to Demyan were being distant. Perron appeared neutral, and perhaps a little oblivious with all his attention on Callahan. Ramos remained focused as ever, never one to socialize, so it didn’t seem odd that he was gone after a brief exchange with Mason. Their starting goalie was fairly popular with their teammates, but for some reason Bower seemed watchful, quick to lose his temper with everyone, snapping at the most innocent comment. Hunt and Richards spoke only to one another in the locker room. And for the first time, didn’t leave together.

Raif knew he might be reading too much into things, and yet, he seriously doubted it. He’d felt this kind of tension before. In high school, even rumors of a student being gay would lead to the boy or girl being shunned—along with any who dared to remain their friends. And that wasn’t the worst of it by far. His own parents had supported him when he’d confessed an interest in the same sex, but both had been afraid for him. The laws in Croatia were progressive and protected him as much as any law could. The mind
-set of the people he’d known all his life… Well, he’d never been good at deception and openness came with a price. Those who could not accept who he was made sure he’d never forget it.

He’d paid the price and stopped caring what anyone thought of him. He’d been judged by those who defined themselves as straight and gay. Only once had he ever regretted his choices. Mid-teens and everyone knew he liked boys. But they believed that meant he couldn’t possibly be interested in girls. Sweet temptation and a pretty smile nearly ruined his life. A stolen kiss behind the school with a girl who belonged to another—he hadn’t known, couldn’t have imagined the violent response. The blood of his precious dog in the dirt, painting out the words
“Last warning, fag” had his parents packing up their home within the week. His father was a cardiac surgeon, so moving to America hadn’t been difficult. They’d been convinced life would be better here.

It had been, but Raif always knew that could change. He’d been prepared to deal with pretty much anything. Had been surprised by how many fans he had since he didn’t fit with the social norm in any way.

Stupid of him not to expect his team would eventually buckle under the pressure of having so many players who were…different. He wanted to be wrong. He wanted to see that nothing had changed after Pischlar had been exposed. Yet things had gotten progressively worse since the interview. Publicly, the team was behind the man. On the ice, their true feelings came out, and it showed a little more with each bitter loss.

He finally left the locker room, finding that some of the players hadn’t gone as far as he’d thought. The three rooki
es were surrounded by reporters and Mason was on one knee a short distance from them all, paying a lot of attention to the large sports bag he’d dropped in the middle of the hall. A cute blonde knelt next to him, nudging his shoulder with a fist and giving him a hesitant smile when he glanced up at her.

“Wasn’t that bad, Dominik. You’ll win the next one.”

“It was a loss.” Mason stood and slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. His gruff tone softened as he faced her. “But I hope you’re right, Sahara. We need all the points we can get.”

The reporters finally cleared out and the rookies
turned to admire Sahara, who didn’t seem to notice anyone besides Mason until Caron spoke up. “Damn, girl.” Caron let out a low whistle. “I’ve seen you perform before, but never up close. Love those cute little outfits you girls wear. Fucking hot.”

Pursing her lips, the blond
e girl, Sahara, looked over at the rookies. “Thanks. I wish I could say the same about
your
performance.”