“I’m up for a little wager,” Greene said with a cocky smirk that sent me over the edge.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I said across the room, nailing them both with a glare.
Greene raised his eyebrows.
McKittrick winced and scooted a little farther down the bench, putting space between him and Greene.
“I’m sorry, were you in this conversation?” Maxim cocked his head to the side and looked me over like an insect that needed to be squashed.
“You can’t just bet on a woman. This isn’t some shitty teenage movie.” I stood.
So did Maxim.
“Don’t ever try and tell me what I can or cannot do, especially when it comes to London,” he hissed through bared teeth.
“Guys,” Hudson rose, rolling his shoulders back. He was known for throwing more than his share of punches on the ice.
“Relax. He’s just pissed that I have a history with the woman he apparently…” He arched an eyebrow. “What? Developed a crush on in the elevator?”
My chest tightened, and my muscles coiled. His words were too close to the truth for comfort.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Maxim grinned like the asshole he was. “You can’t really blame London for preferring me, can you? After all, our own father chose me, and as for your mother—”
“Asshole!” I launched across the room and slammed my fist into his face with a satisfying crack.
His head snapped to the side for a second before he snarled and launched himself at me, throwing a punch of his own as he took me to the ground.
The first one connected with my mouth, and the coppery taste of blood splashed over my tongue before the pain of it even registered.
My chest protector made me bulky and slow, but I deflected his second punch and rolled, getting him beneath me as I sent a series of jabs into his ribs.
“Fucking hell!” a voice shouted to my right. Briggs?
“Sterling!” That was Axel.
“What the fuck?” Not sure who that was.
Maxim landed another punch, and fire exploded in my cheek, but I got him right in the fucking mouth before I felt hands tearing me off him and pulling me up. He hit me one last time, but it barely grazed my jaw as I was lifted away.
Maxim scrambled to his feet and came at me, but Foster and Axel had him by the arms before he could take a step.
Demon and Briggs had me by the biceps and shoulders. I wasn’t going anywhere, even if I tried.
“Bastard.” Maxim lunged forward, but Foster and Axel held firm.
“Max!” Foster snapped.
Briggs sucked in a breath, but I just grinned. “If the best you’ve got is throwing around medieval legal terms—”
“What the fuck just happened?” Coach McPherson stormed in from his office, putting himself between me and Maxim.
Maxim and I locked eyes, each daring to rat the other out, and both keeping our mouths shut.
“I’d say the cause is pretty obvious, Coach,” Briggs remarked.
Coach’s head swung both directions, studying both Maxim and me repeatedly before he cursed. “We have a game in less than an hour.”
“That’s pretty obvious, too, Coach.” I said, earning me narrow-eyed glare from Coach.
“Guess Bangor didn’t teach you any manners while you were up north, did they, Sterling? And to think, I actually missed you.” He shook his head, and his jaw flexed before turning back to Maxim. “And is this really how you want to make a name for yourself, Zolotov? Coming into my house and starting shit? Because I’ve coached Sterling for a couple years, so I’m pretty well acquainted with what it takes to prick his temper.”
Maxim sneered but didn’t correct Coach.
Huh.
“I threw the first punch, Coach,” I admitted. “This one is on me.”
“I got the last one in,” Maxim retorted.
“Both of you shut the hell up,” Coach snapped. “You’re both out for this game.”
My stomach hit the floor.
“You’re fucking kidding me!” Maxim snarled.
“I’m not.” Coach shook his head. “I’m not taking either of you out on the ice. Not like this. Get dressed. I’ll see you both upstairs after the game.”
Shit.
We won, according to the television screen in Persephone’s office, where I’d watched the entire thing play out. It was close, five to four, and I knew it wouldn’t have been if I’d kept my shit together in the locker room.
Sawyer was exhausted.
The planned lines were fucked without Maxim.
The sinking pit of a feeling growing in my stomach was some well-deserved shame.
A knock on the doorframe made me turn. Persephone stood in the doorway, offering me a kind smile. “You’ve been summoned to the headmaster’s office,” she said with a cringe, handing me a fresh ice pack for my busted lip.
“Silas?” I guessed, coming to my feet.
She shook her head and scrunched her nose. “Langley.”
I sighed but nodded, following Cannon’s wife to the Reapers’ publicity office. Five minutes later, I sat across the small conference table from Maxim, who was glaring daggers at me as we waited for Langley.
“You hit like a girl,” he growled, leaning forward.
“Nice ice pack.” I motioned toward his cheek, where he held an identical compress to mine.
“Both of you shut the hell up,” Coach growled, taking the seat at the foot of the table as the door shut. “I have no problem knocking your heads together.”
“Now that everyone’s here,” Langley, the head of the Reapers’ publicity staff, sang as she sank into the chair at the head of the small table.
London lowered herself into the chair between Langley and Maxim.
Our eyes met and held for a moment that was just long enough to stutter my heartbeat and steal the breath from my lungs.
Her suit was tailored to perfection and just as black as her hair, which only seemed to make her eyes stand out even more. Those strawberry lips parted, and she leaned in slightly.
“I don’t know what happened in the locker room,” Langley launched in, drumming her fingertips on the table. “And I honestly just don’t care. But I do know that it can’t happen again.” Her lips pursed as she looked at Coach. “Sorry, did I just steal your thunder?”
“Feel free,” he motioned her onward. “I plan to take it out of their asses during practice this week, so the floor is all yours.”
“I can’t even begin to tell you what a fucking nightmare you two have the potential to be if you don’t pull your shit together,” she leveled a stare on both Maxim and me. “And I’m not just talking about the scoreboard. That’s not my department.” A tiny smile tugged at her lips. “But I bet my husband is going to have plenty to say to you about that one, too.”
Maxim sighed, letting his head fall back slightly.
At least I knew Axel…and Coach. Maxim was the outsider here.
“But if you think we’re going to pull off any kind of family-centered promotion like we have planned…” She shook her head. “Just look at you!” She threw out her hands, pointing to each of us. “Black eyes and busted lips. How the hell are we supposed to bring in a photographer? Of all the unprofessional, immature antics to pull, a locker room brawl is right up there with a—”