“Thanks for coming, Aaron,” Baden’s dad replies.
I move my gaze to Dominik. “You got a minute before I leave?”
“Sure,” he replies easily and follows me out of the room, closing the door behind him.
I move a few doors down, then lean against the wall. Pushing my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, I ask, “What’s the latest word on Baden?”
I didn’t want to ask his parents, but I know Dominik is being kept in the medical loop since Baden is his player and employee.
Dominik gives a morose shrug. “There’s just no telling. Seems like he’ll heal fine from the stab wounds while the brain bleed seems to be under control. But the doc said it could go either way on the spinal injury. We just won’t know until he’s awake and able to undergo some functioning tests.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, scanning the hallway. “I just can’t believe this happened.”
“Good reminder that life can change on a dime, right?” he replies.
“Makes you want to grab those you care about and keep ’em close,” I concur.
Dominik claps me on the shoulder and starts to turn back toward Baden’s room, but I halt him. “There’s actually something else I need to talk to you about.”
Pivoting back to me, Dominik cocks an eyebrow at the somber tone of my voice.
“It’s personal,” I say, setting the tone right off the bat. “Has nothing to do with the organization.”
“What can I do for you?” he asks.
Not “What’s up?”
But “What can I do for you?”
That’s just Dominik’s way… he’s always ready to help one of his guys.
“This may seem like a strange request, but do you have any contacts in Los Angeles who are big in the film industry?”
Dominik jerks his head up, blinking in surprise. “Why? You thinking about going into the movies?”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not a chance. I’m very happy playing hockey for you.”
“Sure,” he replies easily. “Frank Cannon is a good buddy of mine.”
Now it’s my turn to blink. Cannon is only the hottest director in Hollywood right now, and of course, Dominik’s good buddies with him. Why wouldn’t he be? Dominik is one of the most influential people around right now, as not only the owner of the current Cup champions built from an expansion draft, but he also owns a championship basketball team and is a multibillionaire.
“Okay… this is going to sound weird,” I admit apologetically, “but I could really use his help in getting revenge on someone.”
“Excuse me?” Dominik says, his head dipping closer as if he didn’t hear me right.
I look left down the hall, then right, noting we’re essentially alone. “Okay… going to just lay it out for you. There’s an actor out there named Tripp Horschen—”
“The asshole who humiliated your girl,” he says bluntly.
“You know about that, huh?” I mutter.
“Willow and I share everything. She told me, and she feels awful for Clarke. But you know I can’t support you doing anything criminal, right?”
I glance away for a moment, because, well… technically what I want to do is slightly criminal, but chances of me being caught are slim.
“Okay… here’s what I want to do.” I take a deep breath, then let it out. I lay my plan out to Dominik, realizing it seems cruel and petty, but it’s also a lot better than me going out to Los Angeles to beat the shit out of him.
When I finish, Dominik just shakes his head with a small smirk. Finally, he says, “I’ll call Frank and have him set it up.”
“Really?” I ask incredulously. “You don’t think this is juvenile and unwarranted?”
Dominik snorts. “If that had happened to Willow, I’d be coming up with something just as devious. Maybe even more so.”
“Thanks, Dominik,” I say, holding my hand out. He takes it in a side clasp, leans in, and gives me a bro hug.
“Got to look out for my guys,” he says with a laugh, clapping my back hard. “Happy hockey players are champion hockey players.”
“Agreed,” I reply with a grin.
It’s funny how I thought I was happy before I met Clarke, but now that she’s in my life, I see how lacking it used to be. If I can just get this one thing taken care of—the need to eliminate this burning anger in my gut for what that asshole did to her—then I think it will be the fucking icing on my damn happy cake.
“Are you going to come out to The Sneaky Saguaro tonight?” I ask as we start to walk down the hall together. The exit is back toward Baden’s room.
It’s one of our rookies, Guy Demere’s, turn with the Cup tonight and he has a huge party planned to share his time with all the fans. He chose to have it at The Sneaky Saguaro, which has become the team’s official hangout.
“Yeah,” Dominik says with a nod. “For a little bit, anyway. I don’t want to rain on his parade, despite everything going on here.”
As a team, we had thought long and hard about if we should continue going forward with the Cup celebrations that had already been planned out, given the horrific nature of what happened to Baden. It was his father who eventually told us the team had to continue since our victory had been hard-earned. Moreover, he was convinced Baden would want the team to continue the celebrations.
“Clarke and I will see you tonight then,” I say. “Although we probably won’t stay long.”
“Same with Willow and me,” Dominik replies. “I’m finding my partying days just aren’t as fun as they used to be.”
“Word,” I agree, giving him a slight punch to the shoulder as we reach Baden’s room. I’d much rather stay in with Clarke tonight, but, on the other hand, winning the Cup is a huge freaking deal. It’s worth the continual celebrations from the most seasoned player down to the babiest of rookies. Maybe even more so for the rookies.
CHAPTER 24
Clarke
Even though the atmosphere is incredibly overwhelming, I’m having fun.
For the most part.
I mean, this is my first true taste of Aaron’s fame within the hockey world. My first true taste of how devout the Vengeance fan base is.
The Sneaky Saguaro is packed almost shoulder to shoulder, and the vibe is electric. One of the younger players, Guy Demere—whom I’d met at Brooke and Bishop’s wedding but had no other conversation with—is the host of this celebratory party. The Cup is set up on the top floor, cordoned off with velvet ropes and bodyguards. Fans, however, have the opportunity to take pictures with it if they’re willing to stand in a very long line.
The rest of the players have reserved tables, and we’re sort of congregated in an area together. But the fans are free to mix and mingle, so Aaron has been busy with pictures and autographs.
It’s what I expected, but I can’t say I’m loving having a front-row seat to the female attention focused on Aaron. Sure, I know it’s there. I know it will always be there. But Aaron handles everything with grace and ease. If someone gets too handsy, he shuts it down. In all honesty, though, most of the fans are incredibly respectful and are merely excited by his hockey prowess, not looking to get in his pants.