Chapter 6

“I own a hotel.”

Dominik blinked and looked over at Hunt, who was sitting on the bench a few feet away from him with the bottom half of his equipment on, staring at his phone as though he’d been struck dumb. Dominik shook his head, sure he’d heard wrong. “What?”

Hunt plunked his phone onto his sports bag and raked his fingers through his close-shaven hair. The poor boy looked just as confused as Dominik was. “Not sure how that happened. I have to talk to my dad. He has power of attorney because I don’t want to deal with all the money shit. He pays my personal trainer and my manager and… I guess he thought it was a good investment?”

What the hell? Dominik’s jaw hardened. He’d heard about this happening to other players. Not just the young ones either. It wasn’t any of his business, but why the fuck was Hunt finding out about this right before their first game in the goddamn playoffs?

Other players were filling the room, and Dominik was sure Hunt didn’t want everyone to know, so he shifted over and kept his tone low. “He thought it was a good investment? I’m guessing it’s not?”

“No. Fuck, I shouldn’t worry about this now. I got some bills in the mail, and I was like ‘Huh?’” Hunt rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, picking up his phone again when it dinged. “I couldn’t get ahold of my dad, so I sent everything to my accountant. He just emailed me. There’s all kinds of repairs I need to pay for. And late payments and interest… I’m kinda fucking broke. I don’t get it.”

Damn it. If this got out, Hunt would be dealing with more than money problems. The press loved stories like this. Dominik wasn’t an expert on investments, but he knew a few of the players were. If nothing else, he could help make sure this didn’t get the young goalie off his game.

He put his hand on Hunt’s shoulder. “Listen to me, kid. There’s nothing we can do now, but tomorrow we’ll talk to a few of the guys. They’ll have some great ideas for you and know all the right people. Keep it quiet until then, all right?”

“Yeah. I can do that.” Hunt paled, still staring at his phone. “My credit cards are frozen. My accountant said he’s talking to the bank in the morning, but I’m in deep.”

“If you don’t have good people to help you manage your affairs, Hunt, we’ll find some. This is some nasty business, but you’ve got us. Give me the fucking phone.” Dominik held out his hand, breathing a little easier when Hunt handed it over without question. “Get this out of your head. The game is all that matters. I’ve got you. ’Kay?”

“’Kay.” Hunt rubbed his thighs irritably. “But me being fucked doesn’t matter since I’m just the backup. And Bower’s on fire!”

Dominik smiled at that, glancing over at the starting goalie who was bouncing his daughter on his knee. Under normal circumstances, wives and children weren’t allowed in the locker room before games. But nothing lit Bower up more than those few precious moments with his baby girl. And his fiancée, Silver, and their man—Dean Richter, the team’s general manager—didn’t need anyone’s permission to be here. Media wasn’t allowed in before playoff games, and everyone was cool with whatever worked for their star goalie.

“He is, but you’re a big part of the team, and you damn well know that. I expect you to be on the bench, ready to step into the line of fire if you’re needed. Understood?” Dominik gave Hunt a hard look, and Hunt ducked his head and grinned.

“I’m on it!” He pushed to his feet and strode over to Richards, the team’s youngest player, and hooked an arm around his neck. “Those strippers fucking loved you! Tell me that didn’t get you off!”

And this is why I’m fine with getting old. Dominik rolled his eyes, chuckling as Richards did the same. A few of the players were bisexual, but they kept to themselves and the media didn’t have the opportunity to make a story out of most of the relationships. The trashier reporters had tried, which was Hunt’s reasoning for trying to make things “easier” for Richards. And even though Richards was only attracted to men, he was young enough to go along with all his friend’s crazy plans.

If it kept up, Dominik would tell Hunt to back off. But so far, it had been pretty harmless. Hunt looked out for the rookie and was supportive. He didn’t want anyone messing with the kid, which was fine, but his attempts to throw women at the rookie were questionable.

When Richards was ready, he’d likely tell Hunt to back off himself. But Dominik had a feeling he enjoyed spending time with Hunt and understood that the other young man had been raised with an old-school mentality that needed to be gently shifted to reality. And the reality was, Hunt’s outlook was changing more than Richards’s ever would.

Relaxing back against the edge of his stall, Dominik observed the rest of the team like he did before every game. The trouble triplets—Vanek, Demyan, and Carter—were kneeling around Demyan’s adopted daughter, Casey. Looking at pictures she’d probably drawn at school. Scott Demyan was becoming downright respectable as a father and staying out of trouble so he might lose his spot with the trio at some point, but that wasn’t a bad thing. The other two? Dominik reserved judgment.

Over on the other side of the room, Shawn Pischlar and Ian White had their heads bowed as they spoke quietly. Pischlar looked up and a brilliant smile spread across his lips.

Dominik’s lips thinned as Sahara hurried across the room and wrapped her arms around Pischlar’s neck. She patted White’s cheek and let out a soft laugh.

Whatever was going on with them was new. Yes, she’d played with Pischlar at the club, but it was never serious. Pischlar didn’t do relationships, and Sahara hadn’t wanted one at the time.

He’d hoped that had changed, but maybe he’d read her all wrong.

Or maybe you fucked that up when you ditched her during your date.

Possible, but he didn’t regret being there for Sloan. Or Oriana and Max. He couldn’t imagine Sahara doing differently if Jami or Akira had called her. He wished he’d had a chance to talk to her, to iron things out, but after being at the hospital most of the night, he’d gone home and crashed. Then went back with Sloan to get an update on Oriana’s condition.

She was stable, but there were complications and she needed more tests. Sloan still wasn’t allowed in the hospital, but when Dominik had come back and given him an update, he seemed more relaxed than he had just hearing it on the phone from the nurse.

Speaking of Sloan, he walked in with Max, looking tired, but determined. They parted near the coach’s office and Max went to his stall to change, glancing over to give Dominik a nod, mouthing, “Thank you.”

Inclining his head, Dominik smiled. Despite the mess of his first real date in far too long, he was happy with the progress that had been made. Both Max and Sloan seemed focused. The tension between all of three of them was gone. He couldn’t ask for more.

But he had a hard time keeping his eyes off Sahara as she hugged White and kissed Pischlar’s cheek. He was on his feet before he had a chance to think of what he’d say to her. Or worry if she wanted to see him.

He caught up with her in the players’ lounge and spoke softly. “Sahara?”

She jumped and spun around, almost falling over on her cute little bright pink heels. Which almost matched her cheeks. He grabbed her wrist as she flailed and pulled her close to steady her on her feet.

“Dominik.” She wet her lips and turned her head, but he’d already seen the bruises. She’d tried to cover them with makeup, but the discoloration was still obvious.

And as he put his hand under her chin to make her face him, he could tell by the placement that they had been made by a big hand. Not quite as big as his, but with strength that hadn’t been held back.

She had seen Grant Higgins yesterday—she’d told him as much. But these marks hadn’t been there when she’d been with Dominik.

“What happened?” He managed to keep his tone calm. As angry as he was, he needed her to know he was in control. That she didn’t have to worry about his reaction. “Was it Higgins?”

Her eyes teared as she nodded. “Yes, but he won’t come near me again. I’m surprised you hadn’t heard. I have to go see Mr. Keane—he wants to hear what happened from me before this goes public. I’m honestly shocked it hasn’t already.”

“Higgins showed up at your house last night?” Damn it, he should have seen her home himself rather than put her in a cab. The phone call from Max had him thinking of nothing but keeping Sloan out of jail. And making sure Oriana was okay.

Sahara shrugged and dropped her gaze. “He broke into my house. He was there when I walked in, and I had to kick him in the balls to get out of there.”

Dominik swallowed, torn between pride and a deep, acidic rage. The encounter could have ended so much worse. “That’s my girl. I’m… Damn it, Sahara. I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you.”

Hiking up her chin, Sahara met his eyes. “It is what it is. Pischlar picked me up at the station. I’m staying with him for a bit. I’m not sure when—”

“Sahara! Damn it, sweetie, are you okay?” Silver burst into the lounge, holding up her cell. “I can’t believe I had to find out about this on Facebook! Your ex was just charged with breaking and entering. The Islanders said that he won’t be playing tonight, but other than that, they’re not saying much. His fans are trying to start shit. Idiots!” Silver pulled Sahara into her arms. “I’ve got you—I hope you know that? The press is swarming the halls, but Keane has security clearing them out.”

“Oh.” Sahara pulled away from Silver, all the color gone from her cheeks. “I knew it would get out, but not this fast…”

“Honey, it’s the playoffs. All the guys are being watched. But your followers are defending you and you know the team will. Keane asked Becky to meet with him for a press release. We have less than an hour before the game. Becky will probably want to talk to you.” Silver shook her head and carefully brushed her fingers across Sahara’s jaw. “I could kill that man. You!” She pointed at Dominik. He narrowed his eyes in warning, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Talk to the guys and make sure none of them does anything stupid out there. He’s not playing. This isn’t to affect the game.”

“Sweetheart, I’m pretty sure neither Richter nor Bower tolerate you speaking to them that way. And I sure as hell won’t.” Dominik tried to keep the anger out of his tone, but he needed to be alone with Sahara. To make sure she was all right before she was dragged in front of the cameras and reporters. “You need to back off.”

Silver’s cheeks reddened. She stomped her foot, her heel clicking sharply on the tile. “This isn’t about you being a Master at the club.”

“No, it’s about respect. I don’t work for you, princess.”

“You work for my family. Dean will—”

“Then he can speak to me himself.” Dominik shook his head, not too impressed with Silver going back to her spoiled rich girl attitude. She may think she was being professional, but she was crossing the line into diva territory. And the focus should be on what was best for Sahara. He turned to her. “You don’t have to speak to anyone if you’re not ready. I can take you home.”

“I can’t go home, I don’t feel…” Her lips parted as though what he’d said had just registered. “Dominik, you have to play. The team needs you.”

“Do you need me, Sahara?” Fuck, he never missed games for personal reasons. He’d even played once with a fractured ankle. But he couldn’t see past those bruises.

Dropping her gaze, Sahara hugged herself. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know. I can’t think about… Please don’t be upset, but staying with Pischlar is the best thing for me right now. And I want to perform. And forget about…everything.”

He inclined his head, schooling his features to show nothing but acceptance. She wasn’t rejecting him for another man. Not yet anyway.

There was no place for bitterness. If he was going to support her, he had to do so completely. Pischlar would keep her safe. Comfort her.

Do all the things Dominik had lost the chance to do.

“Talk to Becky. I’m sure she’ll field any questions if you’re not ready to answer them.” He cupped her cheek in his hand, loving the way it felt to touch her and have her lean toward him as though she wanted to be near him. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not upset. Say the word and I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” She put her hand on the back of his and inhaled slowly. “I did enjoy our date. Maybe we can do it again sometime? And leave our phones at home?”

“Definitely.” He smiled, dropping his hand when she slipped away to follow Silver out.

He stood there for a few long moments, groaning as he realized, despite her questionable delivery, Silver was right. If Higgins’s arrest had gone public, the guys needed to be told what happened. The last thing they needed was to see it on Twitter or Facebook or whatever their social addiction happened to be.

Or worse, on the ice.

Stepping into the locker room, he looked around, catching Sloan’s eye as the other man glanced up from where he was having a heated discussion with Max. Lips drawn in a hard, thin line, Sloan nodded.

“All right, men. Listen up.” Dominik folded his arms over his chest, waiting until conversation died before he continued. “This is gonna piss some of you off, but don’t you fucking forget why you’re here. And the people out there in the stands, the fans and our family, need us to prove they’ve put their faith in the right team.”

“Fuck that.” Demyan rose from where he’d been sitting with Zach. Casey was nowhere to be seen. Becky had probably taken her out at the first sign of trouble, along with Bower’s baby. Which meant Demyan didn’t have any reason to hold back his rage. “I just heard. And the game don’t fucking matter.”

“That’s not how she feels. She’s getting ready to go out there.” Dominik felt a strange calm come over him as he considered his own words. And then his doubt was gone. “Can you do any less?”

* * *

Both Chicklet and Laura were in Keane’s office when Sahara walked in with Silver. She’d expected Becky, but she was nowhere to be seen. She frowned and glanced over at Silver.

“She texted me to say she was bringing the kids to the wives’ lounge. I’m heading there now so she can come up.” She rubbed Sahara’s arm, then gave Keane a hard look. “She’s been through a lot. Be nice.”

Keane sat forward, smiling pleasantly. “Miss Delgado, I’ve heard some concern about your unique manner of speaking to the players and the staff. Is this something we should address with the board in the near future?”

Silver blinked at him. “What? No, of course not. Anyone who’s complaining is one, a wimp, and two, friends, family, or people I go to the club with.”

Chuckling, Keane stood, something about his bearing making Sahara want to back right out of the room. She’d pretty much gotten over her crush on him. Kinda sorta. But that didn’t change the effect he had when he got that dominant air about him.

“My dear, I do think you’d regret making this a club issue. With the number of Doms you’ve irritated, you may end up regretting your transgressions for a very long time.” His steps were slow and steady as he approached Silver, but she, like Sahara, seemed frozen to the spot. “I will speak to your Master. If it’s attention you require, I’m certain he can see that you get it. However—” he spoke close to Silver’s ear “—if it’s discipline, I am more than willing to do my part.”

The color left Silver’s cheeks. She almost tripped on her way to the door. “I’ll talk to him, Sir. And I’m sorry. I just want to make sure Sahara will be okay.”

“She will be.” With that, Keane turned away from the closing door and stood in front of Sahara, making her feel like a little bunny that had hopped right up to a lion roused from a long, refreshing nap.

How the hell had she ever thought she could interest a man like him? Admiring him should be done like one would admire a force of nature.

From afar.

Keane grinned and suddenly he was the kind gentleman she hadn’t been too intimidated to share the same air with. The one she dreamed would take her on limo rides and bring her flowers and maybe fly her around in his helicopter…

Chicklet, who Sahara had forgotten was even in the room, nudged her and spoke in a mock whisper. “You’re staring, pet.”

Someone, please shoot me.

Over by the window, Laura shot her a sympathetic look.

Taking her hand, Keane led Sahara deeper into the office, pulling out a chair in front of his desk. “You are too easy to read, Sahara. Please, have a seat. This won’t be long.”

“Okay.” Sahara sat, chewing on her lip as Laura came over and took the chair beside her and Chicklet stepped out into the hall. Frowning, Sahara glanced toward the door. “Why did she leave?”

“She’s here to make sure you get home safely. If that’s what you choose to do. If not, she will accompany you to the Ice Girls’ locker room. We’re taking your security very seriously.” Keane’s tone was soft, but completely professional now, making it impossible to see him as the Dom who wore leather and wielded a whip at the club. He was too proper. The dark blue suit, his dark hair with its gray streaks combed into a perfectly neat hairstyle, all made him nothing more than her boss.

Which was exactly what he was.

“Now, Officer Tallent has given me the official statement about the incident, but I’m hoping you can give me a little more. Only what you’re comfortable with, of course, but considering that this will be a high-profile case, I want to be sure the team is in the position to fully support you.” His brow furrowed and he leaned forward. “Which we will do, regardless. But there has been mention of your having invited Mr. Higgins into your home. That you had rekindled the relationship.”

“That’s a lie!” Sahara’s breath caught as she shot out of her chair. Her stomach twisted and she wasn’t sure if she was going to pass out or puke. Neither made any sense. She’d known there’d be rumors. Grant had a lot of fans, and they weren’t going to be nice about her getting him arrested. “He came over yesterday morning and I told him we could go out for coffee. I didn’t even let him in my house then. I may be stupid, but I’m not that stupid. He was telling me about losing his mother and I felt bad and…”

Laura reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “None of us will doubt anything you say, Sahara. We went over this last night. But when my brother brought him in, he got in touch with his lawyers. They encouraged him not to contact you, but he didn’t waste any time calling a friend who was more than happy to spread ‘his side’ of the story.”

Sahara slumped back into her seat. She’d expected the gossip to spread like wildfire. Even expected Grant to call her a liar. But to pretend they were together? That she’d accuse him of breaking in for…for what exactly? Why would anyone even believe his story? It was crazy!

Then again, why wouldn’t they? Better to think she was some crazy, scorned girlfriend than see a handsome sports hero as an abuser.

She put her hands on her knees so Keane wouldn’t see how badly she was shaking. And she took a slow breath so she could speak very clearly. “I should have charged him with domestic abuse when I first came here. You encouraged me to, but I was so happy, I figured I could just move on. That’s not an option anymore. He won’t stop unless he’s forced to. I’m afraid to be in my own home, and I refuse to live like that anymore. I’m staying with a friend, and I will go to court and do whatever the law needs me to do to keep him from doing this again. To me or anyone else.”

“I’m very happy to hear that. And I believe you will be happy to hear, since charges have been laid against Higgins, the league has suspended him indefinitely. They are likely releasing a statement as we speak.” Keane leaned back in his chair. “We are in a unique position because you are one of our own. I doubt Higgins’s team will make any big announcements other than supporting the league’s decision, but we will most certainly make one in regard to you. The question is, what are you comfortable with?”

Fiddling with the hem of her skirt, Sahara considered the question carefully. Like it or not, people would be paying close attention to how the league handled the situation.

“The situation.” Yeah, she liked thinking of it like that. Distancing herself. Imagining it was happening to someone else. A friend whom she could hug and say, “You can do this.”

Before she could answer, Becky burst into the room, sounding breathless. She came up behind Sahara and wrapped her arms around her shoulders before kissing her cheek.

“I’m sorry it took so long. Casey saw something on one of her favorite sports blogs and I had to assure her you were okay. The blog was on your side, but they were telling everyone you’d been choked and were still in the hospital.” Becky touched her cheek. “Oh, honey. Why didn’t you call me? Or Scott? He’s so angry I think Sloan might bench him. He told me to ask you to stay with us. When Pischlar said you were going home with him…” Becky held up a hand as Sahara’s lips parted. “Don’t even worry about it. Zach will deal with Scott. And White was actually quite helpful. He may not be the sharpest tool in the box, but he knows his boy.”

“White isn’t stupid.” Of all the things Becky had said, one would figure the last thing Sahara would focus on would be the slight against White’s intelligence. But she just couldn’t absorb the rest. And White, like Pischlar, had kept her sane this morning while she’d been waiting for the phone calls from Grant’s lawyers. Calls that never came. “He swore he wouldn’t get in a fight with Grant even if he was allowed to play. And he’d do his best to make sure no one else did either.”

Becky gave a quick nod. “That’s good, but thankfully, we don’t have to worry about him. We will do a quick press release. It’s up to you whether or not you’d like to be there. Or if you’d like to wait to talk to the district attorney before you say anything publicly.”

“I want to wait. Talking to the cops was bad enough.” Sahara winced and looked over at Laura. “No offense—it would have been ten times worse if you hadn’t been there.”

“None taken, honey,” Laura said with a small smile. “I think you’re handling this very well, and we’re all proud of you. The DA is a great guy and he’s dealt with high-profile cases before.” She handed Sahara a card. “Call him if you have any questions. I have to get back to work, but Chicklet will be with you all night. Not that we expect Grant to show up, but we’re not taking any chances. He’s got some rabid fans that came to see him, and we don’t want them coming after you.”

Sahara rubbed her arms to stave of the sudden chill, realizing that those fans would be a bigger threat than Grant for the next few weeks. He couldn’t find her at Pischlar’s, but the fans would be at this game, and possibly the next one. She’d have to stick to the restricted areas of the Forum. Stick by Chicklet in the parking lot. And pray that they would leave when the Islanders did and never come back.

“I’ll stick with Chicklet—until I’m with Pisch anyway. I feel safe with him and White.”

“That’s good…” Laura glanced over at Keane, who was dealing with paperwork and giving them some semblance of privacy. “Umm…Pisch is a great guy, and I’m happy you’re comfortable with him. We were afraid you’d be avoiding men for a while. The thing is, he’s…” Her brow creased as though she was struggling to find the right words. “He’s not the relationship type. You know what Scott’s reputation was? Well, Pisch’s isn’t much better. He has some kind of standard, but I’m afraid, if you get too attached, he’ll make his usual graceful exit from your life.”

Nothing Sahara didn’t already know, so she let out a light laugh. “He gave me the speech the first time we scened at the club. Don’t forget, I played with Ford too. And we’re still friends.” She shrugged, something hurting deep in her chest as she accepted the reality of her future. One she’d hoped to change only last night. “I’m not ready for a relationship. It’s better if I’m with someone who doesn’t want more.”

“Hon, you don’t know that.”

With the way that she’d reacted toward Dominik? Yes, she knew she was still too much of a mess to consider a life with anyone. The fact that she’d gone from not dating to considering something long-term was proof of how seriously not ready she was. She’d have to learn to stand on her own before she headed down that particular road.

“I do. But it’s fine.” She pushed out of the chair and met Keane’s eyes as he lifted his gaze. Strange, but besides her reaction to his heady dominance, she hadn’t felt the pull from him that she’d experienced every single time she’d been in his presence. She had his full attention, but she wasn’t looking for some kind of signal that he might be interested. Which made it easier to smile back at him without the slightest bit of shyness. “Thank you, Sir. For everything.”

He studied her face for a moment. Then stood. “No need to thank me, Sahara.” He came over and gave her a hug that was almost paternal. Which made her past crush even more awkward. “If there’s any way I can help you, please let me know.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And as for being ready, there’s no rush. You’re still very young.” He patted her arm gently. “I do hope to see you at the club again soon. During times like these, our close community can give you the escape you need. You could use some time out of your busy head, sweetheart.”

A suggestion, not an offer. But that was fine. Pischlar would have no problem playing with her. He was safe. She wouldn’t lose her heart to him.

But as she said goodbye and walked with Chicklet to the Ice Girls’ changing room, she couldn’t help thinking back on those golden eyes and that warm smile. One that didn’t make her feel just safe.

Dominik had made her feel alive.