Pucking Strong: An MM Workplace Hockey Romance (Jacksonville Rays Book 4)

“Come on, man, did you die in there?” I pound my fist on the bathroom door again. I’m standing in this dark hallway as a fluorescent bulb flickers overhead. The wall behind me is covered in a sea of faded posters for everything from beach events, to missing pets, to items for sale. The music starts up outside, and the crowd surges with a cheer. I just barely hear the door lock click before the door is swinging open, nearly catching me in the face.

“Sorry ’bout that,” says Jake, stepping out of the bathroom. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glassy, hair tousled.

Caleb steps out behind him, looking a little more put together. He pats me on the shoulder with a smug, “All yours, man.”

My mouth opens in shock as I watch them both saunter away. “Oh, fuck both of you!”

Caleb waves over his shoulder, giving Jake’s ass a swat as they both turn the corner to head back outside.

Grumbling, I step into the bathroom and take care of my business. I jerk a few paper towels free, dry my hands, and toss the papers atop the already teetering pile in the trash can. I barely have the door open before someone steps into my space, blocking me from getting out.

“Hey, Ted. Long time, no see.”

I glare up into the face of Corey Lamont. He’s tall and broad shouldered, with a Mad Men haircut and a little cleft in his chin. I’d still call him handsome if I didn’t know he was such a pompous prick. “Fuck off, Corey. Forever. Or did you not get my last text before I blocked your number?”

“Oh, I did.” He grips my arm, stopping me from slipping past. “So feisty.”

I jerk away from him. “No touching, asshole.”

“I heard you got married,” he says in a teasing tone.

“And you still just had to shoot your shot, didn’t you? You’re pathetic. Let me go.”

He leans in, a sweep of his dark hair crossing his brow. “I also heard it was a publicity stunt. Something to do with Karlsson’s kid, right?”

Seriously, who the fuck is still out here saying our marriage is fake? Because I’m about to kick them in the fucking cunt. If it’s Corey spreading the gossip, I’ll kick him twice. “There’s nothing fake about my marriage.”

Corey leans in, his other arm bracing against the open doorway. “Come on, you can tell me the truth. I know that stiff Karlsson can’t possibly keep you satisfied.”

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about what keeps me satisfied, seeing as we never fucked.” I twist my arm out of his grip. “Now, get out of my way, before I knee you in the balls.”

He just grins, baring his teeth like a wolf. “You thought you were so cute, slipping my hook the last time. You left me standing there with my dick in my hand.”

Fuck, the asshole is already drunk. His breath is hot, reeking of beer. I grimace, leaning away. “I imagine it’s not a foreign sensation for you, right? Alone with your dick in your hand?”

He inches closer. “Teddy the Tuna. The one that got away. Well, I caught you now, little fish. Come on, baby. Just one taste.”

Heart racing, I dare to try to duck under his arm just as he grabs for me. He pulls at my shirt, and I stumble as he turns. We both fall against the wall. The faded posters for missing cats and used jet skis crinkle behind my head as I twist around and push on him hard with both hands. “Get the fuck off me.”

His eyes flash with anger as he recovers his balance, still trying to block my way. “You’re a fucking whore, you know that?”

“And you’re a bad loser.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I watched Henrik best you out on that ice all night. My man beat your ass, and now you’re being petulant, trying to take what isn’t yours.”

“You owe me for being a dirty fucking tease,” he snarls. “Should be quick now that you’re putting out for that clumsy Swedish asshole—”

Crack.

“Ouch,” I cry, shaking out my fist. “Oh, fuck, that fucking hurt!”

Corey reels around, one hand rising to catch the blood now dripping from his nose. His expression is all surprise. “You hit me, you little bitch.”

“Talk shit about my husband again, I’ll do more than hit you,” I shout, adrenaline pumping. “And you ever touch me again, I’ll run you over with his goddamn Porsche. Then I’ll let Henrik fuck me on the hood while you scream. Is that clear enough for you? Teddy the Tuna is off limits.”

The moment he digests my words, he lunges, surprising us both with his drunken violence. I scramble backwards, crying out as Corey goes stumbling past me and into the wall. But he’s not actually stumbling. He was shoved from behind.

“Henrik!” I step back, eyes wide. “Oh god, stop!”

Henrik and Corey wrestle down to the floor in a great storm of grunts and curses. Their fighting tips over a stack of boxes. Plastic cups and lids go rolling around on the floor. Corey fights to break free as Henrik wails on him with both fists. Corey’s legs kick about, but Henrik keeps him pinned.

“Babe, stop,” I beg, trying to grab Henrik’s arm.

He shouts something in Swedish as Corey wrestles an arm free and starts hitting him back. “Did you touch him?” Henrik switches in English. “Did you fucking touch him?”

“Getoffme—fucking asshole—”

“Guys, stop!”

All the commotion gets the attention of people down the hallway in the main dining room. A woman screams.

“Someone, call the police!”

“God, no police,” I shout. “Henrik, stop!” I dive for him in earnest, pulling on his arm. “Just leave him.”

“He attacked you!”

“He’s drunk.” I pull on him harder. “Come on, baby. Just leave with me. Please.”

“Hey!” Hunter DeGraw comes running down the hallway, followed closely by Flash and Paulie. A Hawks player is there too. “Break it up,” Hunter shouts. He barrels in next to me and grabs Henrik by both arms, lifting him bodily away from Corey. “Let’s leave this kind of fighting for the ice, eh, fellas?”

The other Hawks player ducks around me and pins a bleeding Corey to the wall with his forearm, keeping him from lunging at us again. “Come on, Core, calm down.”

Corey laughs, blood in his teeth. “What’s the big deal, huh, Karlsson? Your boyfriend and I were just talking—”

“He’s my husband!” Henrik shouts, now restrained by Hunter and Flash.

In moments, Jake appears, all his mirth from minutes ago gone. He storms down the hallway in full team-captain mode. “What the hell happened?”

“Karlsson and Lamont were fighting,” Paulie explains.

Jake glances from Henrik, his clothes disheveled and his chest heaving like a rhinoceros, to Corey, who looks like he’ll have two shiners and is still bleeding from the nose. “Jesus. Why?”

“It was me,” I admit. “Corey’s drunk and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

“We were just talking,” he sneers, dabbing at his bleeding nose with the back of his hand.

Henrik jerks under the hands restraining him. “Don’t talk to him—talk to me!”

“Hey, he wanted to talk to me,” Corey taunts.

“Oh, you’re such a fucking liar,” I shout. “I was minding my own business, and you know it.”

“Please, you wanted me to follow you. Practically begged for it—”

“Say another word to him, and I kill you,” Henrik bellows, fighting against his teammates.

“Okay,” Jake shouts over him, stepping between them and putting up his hands. “Fuck’s sake. Ryder, get Lamont in the bathroom and clean him up,” he says at the other Hawks player. “He doesn’t get to walk out of this hallway to a bunch of cameras looking like the victim of a bear attack. None of us needs that kind of bad press.”

My heart drops out. Cameras? Of course everyone out there who heard the shouting will have a smartphone. And someone shouted something about the police. Oh, fucking fuck.

“I got him,” Ryder mutters, pulling on his teammate. “Come on, Core.”

Corey just smirks. “But Teddy and I weren’t finished.”

Jake rounds on him. “You got a fucking death wish, asshole? ’Cause with a snap of my fingers, my guys let Karlsson go to finish your drunk ass.”

“No,” I plead, adding my hands to the ones holding Henrik at bay.

“I can take him,” Corey slurs. “I could take any of you pansy-ass bitches—”

“Jake, he’s sorry,” Ryder says over him, pulling him away. “If not now, he will be in the morning.”noveldrama

“He’s dead,” Jake growls. “Clean him up, and get him out of here, Ry.”

With a nod, Ryder shoves Corey into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

As soon as the Hawks are gone, Jake lets out a breath. “For fuck’s sake. Seriously, guys? Bar brawling on karaoke night in our own backyard?”

Tears fill my eyes at the look of rage on Henrik’s face. “We shouldn’t have come. I knew Corey would be here. I just thought he wouldn’t care enough to do or say anything stupid. I was wrong.”

Jake raises a brow at me. “You and Lamont have history?”

“Barely,” I mutter, chest filling with white-hot shame.

He sighs, nodding to the guys to let Henrik go.

Hunter and Flash loosen their hold on him.

I step in. “Jake, someone said they were calling the police. Please, Henrik can’t get arrested. We have Karro—our custody case—”

“It won’t come to that,” he replies, squeezing my shoulder. “Straighten up,” he says at Henrik. “You and Teddy will walk out with us. Get to the parking lot and keep going. Don’t say a word to anyone, understand? Just go home.”

Henrik nods, running his hands through his mussed hair and straightening his shirt.

“I’ll come back and deal with Lamont. We’ll put the fear of god in him to keep his mouth shut. It’ll be fine.” He turns to the other defensemen. “Paulie, Flash, stay with them.”

The guys both nod.

“I can go too,” says Hunter.

Jake shakes his head. “Sorry, man. You’re way too valuable if this turns into a brawl in the parking lot.”

“It won’t,” I assure them all. “We’ll go straight home.” I look to Henrik, heart in my throat. “Right, babe?” I hold out my hand, desperate for him to take it.

After a moment’s hesitation, he does, his fingers wrapping possessively around mine as he reels me in. I let myself be pulled, not stopping until my arm is around his waist, face tucked in at his shoulder. I fight the urge to cry, clinging to him. God, I think I’m trembling.

Paulie leads the way with Hunter. Henrik and I follow. The other two take up the rear. The dining room is ready for us. Half the room is looking our way. Some people are standing. There are definitely phones out. A few of them flash. Henrik tucks me in tighter at his side, trying to shield me.

“Just keep walking,” Jake says from behind us. “Don’t look at them. Smile and keep walking.”

The crowd buzzes like a hive as the karaoke music outside hums. The whole building feels like it vibrates with an excited energy that doesn’t match our somber group. Henrik keeps me tucked in tight at his side as we walk right through the restaurant, past the hostess stand, and out the front doors into the parking lot.

Jake and Hunter wait under the lights of the front porch as Paulie and Flash walk with us out to the car. All three men have their heads on swivels, looking for more trouble.

“Where’d you park?” says Flash.

“Back of the lot,” Henrik replies, guiding me that way. We get to the Porsche, and he opens my door, not letting me go until I’m safely inside. I can’t hear what he says to the others before he opens his door and slides in, closing it with a snap.

The sounds of the karaoke band filter out on the night ocean breeze. It sounds like Caleb is singing a Billy Idol song. I feel like I’m outside of my body, not really part of this moment. The car purrs as Henrik puts it in reverse. With two quick turns, we’re rolling down the A1A highway.

“Henrik, I’m sorry,” I finally blurt.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Apologize? I have to if I feel like I’ve done something wrong. And I have—”

“He attacked you!”

I shake my head, tears stinging hot and heavy. “You didn’t hear it all.”

“I heard enough.”

“I goaded him. He pissed me off. I said things to stir him up, even when I knew he was drunk. I did this—”

“Just stop.” Henrik shifts gears and the Porsche picks up as we race down the beach highway. “No more talking. I need quiet.”

I bite my bottom lip, heart racing faster than the car. Each breath sits shallow in my chest. Henrik passes the first turn that would lead back towards our apartment. Then he passes the second. “Henrik—”

“It’s fine.”

“But that was the exit.” I glance over my shoulder. “Babe, we’re driving in the wrong direction.”

“We’re not going home.”

My heart races faster. We’re going in the wrong direction to get to Karolina too. “Then … where are we going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

He just keeps driving.