Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
He’s in my personal space between one blink and the next, gripping my shirt. He’s maybe an inch or two shorter than me but just as broad. If I have to guess, I’d say it’d be a pretty even fight, or at least it would’ve been until a few seconds ago. “Did you sleep with my sister?”
I raise one hand in surrender and grip the wrist of the hand currently fisting my collar. His hold is tight and close to my throat. Also, he looks about ready to commit murder. “Rook, listen.”
“Answer the damn question, Winslow.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Bullshit! Answer the damn question.”
“It’s not my place to tell you that. You’ll have to talk to Stevie if you want that information.”
“You son of a bitch.” He spins us around and shoves me against the brick wall.
“Rook, man, take it easy,” Kingston says.
I’d forgotten he was here.
Rook barely spares him a glance. “Don’t interfere, King. I like you, but you get in the way, and I’ll take you down too.” He bars his forearm across my throat.
“Calm down, Rook,” I grind out.
“Don’t tell me to calm down. She’s my sister.”
“And I’m in love with her.”
He exhales angrily, like a bull getting ready to charge. “If the roles were reversed, would you kick your teammate’s ass for putting his hands on your sister?”
“I don’t have a sister.”
“Pretend you do.”
I sigh. “I can’t. All I have is a brother who name-drops me to bag women.”
“King, if Winslow slept with your sister, would you punch him out?”
Kingston’s eyes dart around like he’s looking for someone else with his name to answer. “Uhhh . . .”
“Be honest,” Rook snaps.
“I don’t use violence to solve my problems,” Kingston replies.
Rook twists his head to look at him with one eyebrow raised.
Kingston sighs. “I would probably be inclined to punch him.”
“Seriously, King?”
“Sorry.” He shrugs. “It’s a brotherly duty. Plus, there’s the video . . .”
“You suck, man. Don’t think I won’t remember this when you have woman problems down the line.”
“I don’t plan to sleep with any of my teammates’ sisters, so I should be fine.” I swear Kingston is smirking. Asshole.
“I get four shots.” Rook unbars my throat and takes a step back, cracking his knuckles with a sinister smile.
“Two, and no face and no groin.”
“No way. I deserve at least one face shot.”
“You already got in a face shot.”
He jumps around like a boxer and shakes out his hands. “That was before I knew you slept with my sister.”
“Three shots, all body. No groin or head shots. We don’t want evidence anyone can see or a concussion,” Kingston interjects.
“Whose side are you on?” I ask.
“I’m not on a side. This is about brotherly justice, and I’m hoping after this you two will finally put the antagonism to rest. We’re all pretty damn tired of it, so let’s get this done so we can all move on.” Kingston makes a get-on-with-it motion.
Rook nods and hops around a bunch more, making a show of clenching and releasing his fists.
“Just take the shot—”
He slams me with an uppercut to the diaphragm, and I stumble back into the wall, heaving.
“That was for the video.” He beckons me forward again.
I suck in a few deep breaths, straighten—it hurts a lot—and step away from the wall, bracing for the next shot. He fakes me out a second time and lands a hook to my side. I fall on a bag of garbage, which explodes under me. Thankfully, it seems to be a bunch of paper and plastic.
“You all right, Ship?” Kingston asks.
“Fine. Gimme a sec.”
Just as I get back on my feet and Rook returns to his boxer stance, the door slams open, sending Kingston stumbling forward. “What in the ever-loving hell is going on here?” Coach Waters steps out in the alleyway, face contorting with a grimace as he takes in the three of us and the odor registers.
I try to cop a natural lean against a dumpster because my side is killing me. Also, I might vomit soon, thanks to the pain and the putrid smell out here. Meanwhile Rook shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Just having a conversation, Alex,” Rook says. It would be somewhat believable if we both weren’t breathing heavily. We’re also sweaty.
Alex looks to Kingston.
He clasps his hands in front of him. “They’re resolving their differences, and I’m mediating to ensure it doesn’t get out of hand.”
“So you’re refereeing?”
“No, sir, just mediating a discussion as an impartial observer who would like to see my teammates get along so we can play the best hockey possible.”
“You could probably sell a space heater to someone living in a damn desert,” Alex grumbles. He turns to us and sighs. “You two get it all out?”
“Just about, yeah.” Rook nods.
“Yup,” I add.
“Get your asses up to your rooms. We’ve got an early morning.” Alex holds the door open and ushers us all inside. Kingston leads the way and we follow, with Alex behind us, like a kindergarten teacher making sure his kids don’t get out of line. “Jesus, you two smell like you were rolling around in the dumpster,” he gripes.