Marek Read online Sawyer Bennett (Cold Fury Hockey #11)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Cold Fury Hockey Series by Sawyer Bennett
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Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
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“What are you doing here?” I hiss at him angrily.

He doesn’t respond, but instead gives me a slow, cold perusal running his eyes in scrutinizing fashion from my toes to my head. His eyes linger and narrow on my breasts, and I cross my arms across them protectively.

This amuses him and his smirking gaze slides up to my face. “You’re not answering my calls or texts, Gracen. What did you think I’d do?”

“Why would I answer your calls or texts?” I snap at him, but I’m still able to keep my voice low. “I told you I wasn’t coming back. The wedding is off.”

“Don’t you love me?” he asks mockingly.

I refuse to answer him, just lifting my chin higher.

“Don’t you love your parents?” he snarls, taking a step toward me. “Or did you forget I’ve got the power to ruin them?”

My stomach rolls with nausea over the threat to my mom and dad. I have no good comeback, because the bank has not responded to my email or follow-up call. I made my choice to potentially abandon them when I called off the wedding, and now I’m regretting that.

I decide I’m not above begging Owen. I’ll plead with him not to take this out on two innocent people caught in the crossfire of this weird and volatile obsession he has with me. Perhaps he has a soul buried down deep.

But I don’t get a chance to lower myself, because the door flies open and Marek is storming out onto the porch. He’s got on his shorts zipped but unbuttoned, and his hair is as bad as mine. My fingers spent a lot of time there last night.

“What in the fuck are you doing on my property?” Marek barks at Owen as he positions himself in front of my body, shielding me completely.

“Coming to get my property,” Owen sneers back, but I don’t even have time to be affronted.

Marek’s right arm flies and his fist connects solidly with the right side of Owen’s face. There’s a splatting sort of sound when knuckles hit flesh and the force of the punch spins Owen toward the front door. Marek wastes no time, grabbing Owen by the back of the shirt and spinning him swiftly the opposite way. He gives a shove to Owen’s shoulder blades and he goes flying off the porch. He misses the first step, manages to land a foot on the next one, but with arms windmilling he goes sailing face first into the small area of landscaping that borders the walkway. He takes out a small azalea bush and rolls over before popping up to his feet.

Owen’s a fit guy with the build of a linebacker. He’s got a little brawn on Marek, and I expect him to come charging back. Instead, he rubs his fingers gingerly over his jaw and gives a condescending smile to Marek.

“Guess I know whose property she is now,” Owen taunts Marek before sliding his gaze to me. “It’s clear you two are fucking.”

My face flushes hot with embarrassment.

“Guess it’s only fitting,” Owen says, then swivels his jaw a bit. “I mean, I took your sloppy seconds, Marek. They’re even sloppier now.”

“You’re going to pay for that,” Marek snarls, and starts across the porch. Rage contorts his face until I can’t even recognize him.

I lurch forward and put myself in his path. My hands go to his chest and I have to lean all of my weight forward to slow him down.

But I don’t stop him. His hands come to my shoulders to push me out of the way.

“Marek, please don’t,” I murmur to him, sliding to stand directly in front of him again. He just looks right over my head at Owen standing in the yard, his eyes blazing with an unholy sheen of violence. “He’s not worth it.”

A few moments roll by, and Marek doesn’t move. His eyes are locked on Owen and his jaw is clenched so tight I’m afraid his teeth might crack.

“Think of the season starting,” I continue in a soft voice. “You don’t want to get in trouble.”

I get nothing from him, muscles still coiled taut and hatred in his eyes as he glares at Owen.

“Marek,” I implore, but he won’t look at me. “Think of Lilly. I don’t want to have to explain to her why her daddy is in jail.”

And just like that, Marek’s body loosens and he drops his eyes to me. I can still see the heat bubbling deep within, now tempered a bit with frustration that he can’t beat the shit out of Owen.

He takes in a breath and nods. I let my hands drop away from him, and turn to face Owen.

But it’s Marek who does the talking. His voice is surprisingly cool and collected when he says, “Get off my property. And if I catch you anywhere near Gracen or Lilly again, trust me when I say you’ll regret it.”


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