Chapter 25

Today had to end. Dominik had assumed the worst was over but, while he couldn’t compare the mess the team was into what had gone down with Higgins, it wasn’t fucking pretty.

Bower couldn’t play. He’d come, determined to get out on the ice, but the man’s skin was green and he couldn’t stand for more than a minute without rushing off to puke. Richter wasn’t sick, but when the doctor had asked what he and Bower had eaten, he’d mentioned being in the office all day. Since neither Silver nor Bower could cook worth a damn, they’d probably gone out to eat somewhere.

Hunt was the one looking sick now though. The young backup goalie sat alone on the other side of the players’ lounge, dressed in only his goalie pants and huge black and gold pads, taping his stick and talking to himself. A few of the guys had tried talking to him, Dominik included, but Hunt said he wanted to get “in the zone.”

Fair enough, so long as he didn’t psych himself out.

A tense quiet filled the room, followed by murmurs as the door to the players’ lounge opened. Vanek came in first, followed by Zovko and Chicklet. For some reason, Vanek was eyeing all his teammates with a challenging gaze, hovering close to Zovko, who was holding Chicklet’s arm.

The big Croatian moved gingerly, which wasn’t unexpected considering his injury, but as he spoke softly to Chicklet, she guided him around a table, leading him over to Hunt.

Dominik set aside his skates which he’d been relacing and strode across the room, ignoring the whispered remarks from all the guys who seemed too uncomfortable to even welcome Zovko back. There was clearly something wrong, but as captain of the team, Dominik had to make sure the team understood Zovko wasn’t to be treated any differently.

“Zovko, good to see you, man.” Dominik smiled and shook Zovko’s hand before pulling him in for a hug. “What’s the damage?”

Vanek let out a rough sound in the back of his throat. His eyes glistened as he glared at Dominik. “Fuck, Mason. I wasn’t expecting you to be the one asking stupid questions.”

“Cool it, boy.” Chicklet put her hand on the back of Vanek’s neck in a gesture that was both restraining and comforting. “Raif’s got this.”

Drawing away slightly, Zovko put his hand on Dominik’s shoulder. He lifted his head and appeared to be staring at something in the distance. He gave Dominik a grim smile. “I’m glad you brought me in on the hotel investment—I’ll need a new project to keep me distracted. Which is actually why I came. I went over all the information you left me, and I believe, between myself and Hunt, this will be a successful venture.” He looked over in Hunt’s general direction. “If he’s willing to work with me.”

Hunt swallowed hard, staring at Zovko as though he’d just come to a terrible realization. “You’re not coming back, are you?”

“No.” Zovko squared his shoulders, his jaw clenched. “But your only concern tonight will be winning this series for us. I’ve heard that the mess with the hotel distracted you. There’s no reason for you to worry about it any longer. I’ll be up in the press box, cheering you on.” He shifted his unseeing gaze to the rest of the room. “All of you.”

There was no avoiding the brutal fact. Zovko was blind. Dominik rubbed his lips with his fist, trying to think of the right thing to say. Sorry wouldn’t fucking cut it. Besides, Zovko had come here tonight to show his support, and he wouldn’t appreciate anyone’s pity.

His career was over, but he would find success, regardless of the obstacles. Even if he wasn’t out there on the ice with them, he was a fucking Cobra. And Cobras were the best at beating the damn odds.

“If there’s space for another partner, I’d like to be involved with the hotel as well.” Dominik had several strong investments of his own, but facing how quickly life could change made him more determined to make sure he had more than his hockey career to fall back on. “I’m probably not too far away from retirement myself.”

“Ha! Not so fast, Mason. I expect you to keep my boy out of trouble.” Zovko reached out and put his arm around Vanek as the young man shifted closer. Vanek looked sad but determined as he stood by his Dom’s side. “But he’s promised to be on his best behavior.”

Dominik grinned as Vanek’s face reddened. “I’ve dealt with him at his worst. I’m not worried.”

Conversation had resumed around them, and Chicklet dragged a seat over for Zovko and herself as he told Dominik the details of his vision loss. His optic nerve had been damaged, but there were several treatments that might help him regain at least part of his vision.

Not enough to get him back on the ice, but Dominik couldn’t imagine that being a priority at the moment.

About half an hour before warm-up, Richter came in with his daughter, Amia, and his niece, Casey. The way he greeted Zovko made it obvious he’d already been aware of the man’s condition. They made small talk while Casey went over to sit beside Hunt.

She smiled up at the goalie shyly, holding up a small plastic container. “Mommy said you’re playing tonight because Uncle Landon ate bad food. So I brought you good food.”

“Thanks.” Hunt took the container and opened it. His brow furrowed, but he kept smiling. “Cookies?”

“They’re not fucking donuts, Hunt,” Demyan shouted from the other side of the room, looking ready to come over and either snatch his daughter away or punch the goalie. He grunted when his partner, Pearce, elbowed him in the ribs. “Language. Sorry. But if he doesn’t eat those cookies, I’m gonna—”

Pearce elbowed him again.

Casey sighed and shook her head. “Don’t mind my daddies. They’re peanut butter, and Uncle Landon eats them all the time. He says they make him stronger, and I make them for him a lot.”

Dominik bit back a laugh as Hunt picked up a cookie and took a big bite. The baby goalie was blushing all the way up to his ears, and he didn’t seem to know what to say to the little girl who was watching him expectantly.

Swallowing, Hunt nodded. “They’re really good.”

“Do you want some milk?” Casey clasped her hands behind her back, bouncing on the toes of her tiny Chucks. “They’re better with milk. I could get you some.”

“No, that’s okay. I like ’em just like this.” Hunt shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

Richter chuckled and stood, holding Amia on his hip. “All right, time to go, sweetie. You want to wish your fathers luck before we go?”

“Yes, Uncle Dean.” Casey hesitated. Then she shot forward, planting a kiss on Hunt’s cheek. “I think you’re more handsome than Prince Eric.”

Giggling, Casey skipped across the room, hugging both Pearce and Demyan before running back to take Dean’s hand.

Hunt finished the rest of the cookies, looking like someone had hit him in the head with a shovel. After Chicklet and Zovko left and the rest of the team headed to the locker room, Hunt just sat there, a confused expression on his face.

“Come on, kid.” Dominik had to fight not to laugh. He held the door open as Hunt ambled over, that same dumb struck expression still present. “I’m surprised you’re not used to girls falling in love with you by now.”

“She’s, like, five.”

Demyan threw his sports bag into his stall, practically growling. “She’s almost eight, Hunt. Still too young, but you better be fucking nice to her until she decides she’s in love with Justin Bieber or something.”

Pearce’s eyes went wide. “Hey, that’s not funny, Scott.”

“You know what I mean.”

Slumping onto the ledge in front of his stall, Hunt shook his head. “It’s cute and I’ll be nice. I just…”

Dominik waited. Then sighed when it became clear Hunt wasn’t going to complete the sentence. “What?”

“Who the hell is Prince Eric?”

Every man in the locker room burst out laughing.

Vanek tossed a roll of tape at Hunt. “Are you serious? You’ve never seen The Little Mermaid?”

That only had the men laughing harder. Dominik grinned as he pulled on his equipment. He was feeling good about this game. The atmosphere in the locker room was positive. Even Pischlar and White seemed to have made up. Pischlar was holding a comic book he’d pulled out of his stall. He gave White a crooked smile, then went over to sit by his best friend, holding the comic book like it was the most precious thing in the world.

The rest of the guys were joking and laughing, eager to get on the ice. More than once, he heard a player mention winning “this one” for Zovko.

You’re damn right, we will. Dominik stood by the door, holding up his fist to bump with each player as they passed. Ladd and Hunt were the last two, and tension radiated from both men as they stared one another down.

“You’re teammates. Hate on each other after the game.” Dominik sighed when Hunt’s eyes narrowed.

“Seriously, man.” Hunt folded his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you staring at me for?”

The edge of Ladd’s lip twitched up with amusement. He reached out and brushed something off Hunt’s chin. “You’ve got cookie crumbs everywhere. Just thought you should know.”

As Ladd took off, Hunt shook his head. “That guy is fucking weird.”

“Maybe, but he spoke to you. That’s some fucking progress.”

“I guess.” Hunt took a deep breath and dropped his gaze. “Zovko though…that fucking sucks. He’s a great guy.”

“He is.” Dominik shifted his gaze as he saw the younger man tear up. The last thing they needed was for the kid to be an emotional wreck before stepping between the pipes. “He’s gonna be okay, kid. He didn’t come here to upset you.”

Hunt shook his head and tucked his glove under his arm, pulling his hand out to dry his eyes. “He didn’t upset me. He made me see that all the shit I’m dealing with is nothing. I want to prove to him I’ve got this.”

Good man. Dominik slapped Hunt’s shoulder. “Damn right, you do.”

* * *

Sahara jumped to her feet as she watched Dominik snatch the puck from an Islander forward. He led the charge, whipping a pass to Heath on the breakaway. Heath sped across the ice, faking a shot, then lifting the puck high stick side.

The goal light went off and the crowd cheered. By her side, Bran hopped up and down. Kimber let out a deafening scream of excitement. Sahara gave both a high five as their brother’s first goal in the league was announced.

On the ice, Dominik retrieved the puck, then joined the throng of players hugging and congratulating Heath. Heath was smiling from ear to ear as he skated by the Cobra bench, knocking fists with the rest of his teammates.

“We win! We win!” Bran climbed up on his seat, arms up in the air.

Laughing, Sahara picked him up and hugged him tightly. “Not yet, buddy. But we’re leading two-nothing.”

The second period was almost over and the Forum was buzzing with energy. Sahara had been around the game too long to count the Islanders out just yet, but she had a good feeling with how well the Cobras were playing.

Five minutes later, and the high of Heath’s goal had faded. The Islanders had finally gotten one past Hunt. He still looked solid, but the comfort of a two-goal lead was gone. The Cobras had to score a few more goals to guarantee a win. Facing the backup goalie might have given the Islanders a false confidence at first, but they wouldn’t make that mistake again in the third period. Not when they were fighting for their life in the playoffs.

During the break, Sahara brought Kimber and Bran to the wives’ room for snacks. She smiled when she saw Akira and Jami, but her smile faded when she saw the blotchy redness of Jami’s cheeks.

A woman touched her shoulder. She glanced over to see Becky.

Becky motioned her forward. “Go talk to her. I’ll watch your little ones.”

“Thank you.” Sahara crouched down in front of Bran. “I’m going to talk to my friends. Can you stay with Becky?”

Bran frowned and handed Kimber his plate. “I come.”

“Have you met my daughter, Casey?” Becky held out her hand. “She brought all kinds of toys. I bet she’ll let you play with them.”

Bran’s lip quivered, but he took Becky’s hand. And stuck his thumb in his mouth as she led him to the group of children playing at the other side of the room.

Sahara bit her lip, hating how upset Bran was about her leaving him. Fine, she wasn’t going far, but he’d been with her for the past few days. It would take much longer than that for him to stop worrying that she wouldn’t come back.

Kimber came over and hugged her. “He’ll be all right. I’ll stay with him. Go on, you’re allowed to have a life.”

“Which you’re part of.” Sahara sighed and kissed Kimber’s hair. “I’ll be right over there. Come get me if there’s anything.”

“I will.”

Crossing the room, Sahara pulled up a chair and sat in front of Jami, taking both her friends’ hands in hers. “Hey, what’s going on?”

Jami closed her eyes, tears trailing down her cheeks. “Sam’s moving out. Things are really bad with her and Luke, so I get it, but…” She swallowed hard. “She’s moving in with Oriana. She’s letting her adopt the baby.”

Damn, that’s… Sahara shook her head. What could she say? That was actually pretty smart of Sam. The girl was young and in no position to care for a baby. Jami had been looking forward to helping raise Luke’s nephew, but the tension between Sam and her brother wouldn’t have been good for any of them. Least of all the baby.

The facts wouldn’t make Jami feel any better though. Sahara considered her words carefully. “What does Sebastian have to say about everything?”

Rolling her eyes, Jami hugged herself. “He thinks it’s the right choice. He went with Sam to talk to Oriana and Sloan and Max. They’ve set up a room for her, and they’re going to take care of her until she has the baby. After too. Their lawyers are drafting all the paperwork for an open adoption.”

“Sam has a lawyer?”

“Yes. Sebastian hired one for her. And I kind of hate him for it.” Jami dropped her head to her hands. “Ugh, not like I really hate him. I love him. But I’m so mad. We could have given Sam’s baby a good life. She could do everything she’s doing with Oriana with us!”

Pulling Jami into her arms, Sahara made a soft shushing sound while Akira rubbed Jami’s back. “I’m so sorry, babe. This isn’t your fault. It’s not really anyone’s.”

“I know, but…this isn’t over. Will you come with me?” Jami sat up, her teary eyes wide. “Sam’s with Oriana right now. Maybe if I talk to her, she’ll change her mind.”

Bad idea. Very bad idea. “Jami—”

“Please! It’s not too late, and she should know she has options.” Jami pushed to her feet, pulling away from both Sahara and Akira. “Oriana can have someone else’s baby.”

Akira met Sahara’s eyes as Jami headed out the door. “This will go ten times worse if we’re not with her.”

True. Sahara nodded, stopping by the door to look over at Bran and Kimber. Both seemed to be having fun. Becky was sitting on the floor beside Bran, exclaiming over the colorful lumps he’d formed with Play-Doh. The kids were in good hands.

She slipped out the door and ran to catch up with Jami and Akira.

They reached the press box and Jami strode in, not even looking at her father when he called out to her.

Walking straight up to Oriana and Sam, Jami touched Sam’s arm. “Sweetie, we need to talk.”

“Jami, please don’t be mad at me. This is the first time that I feel like I’m doing something good for my baby.” Sam pulled away, shifting closer to Oriana. “You’ll still get to see him. So will Luke and Seb.”

The third period had started. Sahara split her attention between what was happening on the ice and the drama unfolding in front of her.

“You need to think about what you’re doing, Sam.”

“I have! Jami, you and Luke and Seb are trying to have your own baby. As much as he pisses me off, Luke is right. I want to go to school and get a good job. I’m not ready to raise a kid.” Sam pushed her red-streaked blond hair away from her face irritably. “I’m a fucking mess. Tell me you don’t know that?”

“You’re confused.”

“Not about this.”

The argument continued, both Sam and Jami getting more and more irate. Oriana tried to speak up, but Jami rudely cut her off.

On the ice, the Islanders crashed the net. The ref called the goal. It was sent for review.

Good goal. The game was tied.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Sam?” Jami’s voice broke. “I know Luke’s not the easiest person to live with sometimes, but he does love you. You can’t do this because you’re giving up on him.”

Sam shook her head, reaching out to pull Jami in for a hug. “I’m not giving up on him. This feels right. You know Oriana. You know Max and Sloan. They’ll give my son a great life.”

Holding Sam tightly, Jami nodded. “I know. And I’m sorry. I guess I pictured everything differently, you know?”

“So did I. I wasn’t planning to get knocked up so young.” Sam let out a teary laugh. “But my kid won’t pay for it.”

All right, this was good. Jami and Sam had worked things out. Maybe the discussion hadn’t been pleasant, but better now than after the baby was born.

Sahara went over to hug both girls and excused herself so she could check on Bran and Kimber. When she got to the wives’ private box, Becky was holding Bran, and Kimber and Casey were staring down at the ice with their hands over their mouths.

Heath was down on his hands and knees, spitting blood. Dominik was beating the hell out of an Islander forward, and every player on the ice was fighting. Including the goalies.

“Sahara!” Bran held out his arms, squirming in Becky’s hold. “Heath’s hurt!”

Taking Bran into her arms, Sahara whispered thanks to Becky and stroked the little boy’s hair. “He’ll be all right, buddy. Look, the trainer’s with him. He’s skating all on his own.”

“Is that good?” Kimber whispered.

Nodding, Sahara watched the teams being separated. She bit her lip as the refs handed out the penalties. Dominik would be in the penalty box until the game ended.

Luckily, the game ended with a tie.

Her phone went off in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the text.

Jami: Sam just went into labor. This is all my fault.

Sahara: It’s not your fault. She’s almost nine months along, isn’t she? Maybe it was just her time.

Jami: We’re bringing her to the hospital now. Can you come meet us there?

Another text came in. It was Dominik.

Dominik: Can you come down for a minute?

This was crazy. Sahara stared at her phone, torn between wanting to be there for Jami and needing to be there for Dominik. Jami had Akira. Dominik had his teammates.

“Do you need me to watch them again, honey?” Becky asked.

Sahara nodded, happy to see neither Bran nor Kimber seemed upset that she’d have to leave them again. She quickly sent a text and hurried out to the hall to jump on the elevator.

* * *

Dominik had gotten an earful from both Sloan and Coach Shero for his penalty, but he wasn’t hearing much of anything. After coming to the locker room, he’d picked up his phone to text Sahara and seen the message from his brother.

Joshua had been called for another mission. He wished Dominik luck. Couldn’t say where he was going. He’d be in touch.

Barely managing not to put his fist through the wall, Dominik sank to the bench in front of his stall and blocked out the entire world. He couldn’t fucking do this anymore.

But he had to.

“Dominik?” Sahara approached him, sinking to her knees and placing her hands on his thighs. “Talk to me.”

Fuck, just seeing her face calmed his racing pulse. He slid his hands over her cheeks and into her hair. Pressed his eyes shut as he leaned in to kiss her.

“How are Bran and Kimber? They know Ladd’s okay, right?” He opened his eyes and looked over at Ladd, who was getting checked on by the trainers. The kid had lost a tooth from the slash and had gotten a few stitches on his lip. No big deal.

The kids might not see it that way though.

“They’re good. You’re not. What happened?”

He sighed, feeling stupid for asking her to come down. Seeing her was amazing, but he was a professional. He needed to pull his shit together. “I’m good. I kinda flipped when that guy took a swing at Ladd. Stupid fucking penalty, but Hunt kept us in the game.”

“From where I was standing, it looked like a good penalty. They need to know not to fuck with our players,” Sahara said, all bloodthirsty and sexy as hell. She gave him a wry smile and cleared her throat. “There’s more though, isn’t there?”

“Josh was called up for another mission.” Dominik rubbed his hand over his eyes. “He’s doing his job. I need to do mine.”

Lacing her fingers behind his neck, Sahara met his eyes. “Yes, you do. But you get to be worried about him.”

Maybe, but Dominik was supposed to be leading his team to a fucking victory. They were so damn close. His head had to be in the game.

“What about you? You were awesome in the pregame show. Sucks that they took out your performance between periods.”

“Naw, people are too riled up to enjoy it anyway.” Sahara dropped her gaze. “But I have to go.”

What? “Go?”

“Sam just went into labor. Jami freaked out because she tore into her about letting Oriana adopt the baby. It’s a mess.” Sahara stroked his thick beard with her thumb. “If you ask me to, I’ll stay, but I’ve been trying to be a better friend. Jami needs to be there when Sam has her baby. And she asked me to be with her.”

“You should be.” I want you here, but I won’t be that kind of man. Grant had come between Sahara and her friends. He’d isolated her to the point that she’d lost many friends. She had to see how different life would be now.

She pressed her forehead to his. “I’ll still be watching the game. And Becky’s with Bran and Kimber.”

“Good. Becky will be fine with them.”

“Yes, but you need to listen to me.” Sahara took a deep breath. “Do you remember when I asked you to score a goal for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Now I need more. Win the game. For me, for the team, for your mother and your brothers, because you know they’re watching. Take this round for all of us.”

Dominik nodded. He could do that. And she was right.

She didn’t need to be in the stands to support him. He’d taught her how to feel him with her even when he couldn’t be. And after he kissed her, after he walked her to the locker room door, he still felt her presence.

Even more so when he stepped back onto the ice.

* * *

Climbing into the back of the cab she’d called since she’d come here with Dominik and couldn’t take his truck, Sahara gave the cabbie directions and pulled the game up on her phone. The puck was dropped. The play was fierce, rushing from one side of the ice to the other. Hunt made a spectacular save.

She’d worried that she’d made the wrong choice in leaving, but Dominik looked amazing out there. With powerful hits, moving faster than the younger players, he was on his fucking game. His passes were crisp, and soon, she had no reason to doubt the choice she’d made.

The excitement in the announcer’s voice mounted as he called out every play.

“Mason snaps up the puck on a pinch. Whips the puck over to Perron. Perron passes it back. Mason dodges a check and tucks the puck back to Ladd… Ladd scores! The Cobras win!”