Kit: A Hockey Novella (Players Book 4) Read online

  When his tongue goes down my throat, I gag, punch, and kick but he just gets crazy. He tears at my hair, clamps onto my ass, and holds me tight against his erection. Finally, I squirm loose and thrust a knee up into his balls which causes him to let go.

  Even as he doubles over in pain, he laughs. “I can see we’ll match well in bed. Begin your warm ups.”

  As I circle around the rink, I gain speed, crossing leg over leg. Then, I prepare to jump, bend my knees, and launch into a double Axel. However, instead of digging my edge into the ice as I land, I let go and fall, spinning on my ass until the wall stops me.

  Breathing hard, I lay my head back on the cold, hard ice as Leonid rushes across the rink, cursing.

  My ankle throbs and for a moment, I wonder if I went too far and broke it.

  “You will skate, bitch.” When he demands I put weight on it, I limp so badly that I stumble and fall onto my knees.

  “Take me to a doctor, immediately or I call Father. Maybe I call American police with 911.” I’ve never before threatened Leonid and am shocked how fast he backs down.

  “Fine. Get off the ice. I’ll call a doctor.”

  While he’s on the phone, I glance down at mine, noticing a message waiting. After playback, I take a deep, shaky breath.

  The FBI says to call them back.

  Chapter 4

  Sonia

  All night long, I awake every hour on the hour, my heart racing. Most of my nightmares end with a knife to my throat, the others are far worse. So, when my alarm goes off, I’m tired but relieved. That is until I recall what day it is.

  Today, I betray my father.

  Black yoga pants and a black t-shirt seem most appropriate for rehab. Then, after splashing my face with cold water, I hop into the elevator and snort at Leonid, waiting for me in the lobby. During the hour-long drive, I give him the silent treatment, my chin still throbbing from yesterday’s assault.

  At exactly five AM, the driver pulls to the curb in front of green garbage bins. Not waiting for the vehicle to stop, I jump out, and get blasted with hot, smelly fumes.

  Ugh. With my hand to my mouth, I almost forget to limp as I rush to the storefronts where a small woman puts a key into a padlock. Behind us, lights from another vehicle cast the long shadows of three huge bodyguards as they climb out of a black town car. The skinny one, with the anchor on his forearm, I call Popeye and the heavy one is Bluto. The third, a new guy, I officially dub Wimpy.

  The fact that my father saw fit to send three men sends chills down my spine but it’s too late to change my mind. Certainly, by now, I’d know if someone found out my plans because I’d be dead.

  When the petite blonde woman finishes pushing up on the metal gate, we shake. “Hi. You must be Sonia.”

  Barely older than me, it’s hard to believe she’s the famous sports therapist I read about online. Her grasp is firm, exuding confidence and for the first time today, I smile.

  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Glad to. I’m a big fan. Come on in.” Her eyebrows raise when she notices my gorillas.

  Shrugging, I follow her into the impressive facility filled with expensive exercise machines. Welcome to my life.

  “Sit.” Leonid points to a chair and I do as he asks, maybe for the last time.

  If he thinks I’m nothing but his trained bitch, he’s in for a rude awakening. I got a serious grudge and sharp teeth. At that thought, I check again for the thumb drive deep in my purse and after finding it, page through old magazines.

  Then Ms. Quinn approaches. “Ready?”

  I nod and stand.

  Her ponytail bounces as she shoots past rows of machines, glancing down at her iPad. “You speak English?”

  “Yes. Quite well.”

  “Great. Up please.” Her fingertips tap the paper-covered vinyl bench.

  While she examines my ankle, I worry she’ll find out I’m lying about the extent of my injury. Since falling yesterday, I’ve said that it hurts too much to skate, purposefully missing all of my jumps. In truth, it’s not all that bad.

  “Does it hurt here?” She presses the joint at all angles and twists my foot in circles.

  When she hits a sore spot, I gasp.

  Frowning, she cocks her head and asks me to walk on the treadmill. She sets the pace so fast that if I was really injured, I wouldn’t be able to keep up. So, I limp, pathetically.

  “Stop!” Leonid strides across the room and hits the red button on the control panel. “Get down from there.”

  Melanie Quinn glares, hands on her hips, and the bodyguards at the door snicker. Me? I turn to the wall, hoping Leonid can’t see how widely I’m grinning. Then, just as she opens her mouth to take him down a notch, the door chimes, and I follow her gaze.

  Air shoots from my chest, my heart stops, and Casablanca comes to mind. Of all the rehab joints in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine.

  ESPN voted Kit Tufek the most handsome hockey player in the NHL His lashes are dark, his chin strong, and his eyes are some weird shade of crystal. Women fall at his feet, begging to be fucked, or so I’ve read. This should make me feel better but it doesn’t. Four years ago, he picked me over all the other beautiful skaters in Sochi, I gave him my key card. Even now, my panties melt at the sight of him.

  Was it my fault my father dragged me off like a misbehaving child?

  To make matters worse, at the awards dinner, Kit told people that I was a tease. I didn’t even know what those things meant. Despite his verbal abuse, I waited up all night for him, naked in my bed.

  Kit Tufek, the man who ruined my teenage dreams, shoves aside Popeye.

  Dammit. Does the hockey player have a death wish or is he just plain stupid? No one messes with my father’s men.

  Shooting off the treadmill, I rush forward where Bluto’s already stepped out in front of Kit, fist clenched. The hockey player swears, knees my bodyguard in the balls who goes down, writhing and moaning.

  Without warning, Popeye pulls a knife. Kit jabs his elbow his solar plexus which sends him next to Bluto.

  “Stop!” By stepping between them, I manage to keep Wimpy from pulling out a gun.

  Kit raises one angry raised brow at me and turns to Mel, running across the room. “Who da fuck are dese guys?”

  Melanie stomps over, face skewed. “For goodness sake, Kasim. Do you need to do… do this?” She points at the two writhing bodies on the floor.

  “I thought maybe you were in trouble.” His cocky grin says nothing of the sort.

  The now furious blond glares at Leonid. “They all need to go.”

  I cringe. No one dares cross my coach.

  However, the woman is bad-ass She sneers and stares him down. “Either they go or she…,” her gaze goes to me, “is no longer welcome. Sorry hun. I can’t have this. Your bodyguards can wait outside or there’s a coffee shop next door.”

  “Fine.” Face bright red, Leonid calls her a stupid bitch in Russian. Then he helps the men to rise off the floor and tells them to wait outside.

  I’m loving this as I try to recall which foot to limp on and start up the treadmill again. Drama over, the oh-so-famous Kit Tufek wanders next to me, favoring his left leg. I try not to stare at his magnificent form, his beautiful dark face, and the bright tats running up and down his forearms. I have lusted for this man since laying eyes on him in Sochi despite the fact he’s a complete mu’dak.

  That’s Russian for asshole.

  Despite how he treated me in the past, a zing shoots between my legs and my panties dampen when the man smiles. Then I notice, his look is not for me, it’s for my physical therapist.

  They hug and he kisses one of her blushing cheek. “How is that little one of yours?”

  She pulls out her cell phone and shows him a picture of a baby. “Looks just like his daddy.”

  He winks at her. “I still say, if CJ doesn’t treat you right, we fuck. Agreed?”

  She blushes and pushes at his gian
t chest. “Start on the treadmill, Kit, thirty minutes. I’ll be right with you.”

  To Leonid she says, “Mr. Blokov? Please wait in the reception area or you can join your friends outside.”

  My coach swears under his breath all while shooting me a look that says I will pay later.

  Obviously, my therapist doesn’t speak Russian because she’s smiling when she walks me back to the treadmill. “Hun? Set your timer at a pace you feel comfortable with.”

  All done ordering people about, she crosses the room to her computer, no doubt entering all the health and insurance data that Leonid brought with him.

  That leaves me and Kit, standing side by side. I set the machine at a pace I figure would be right for someone with a sprained ankle and limp appropriately.

  Kit is already sweating, looking magnificent as he runs.

  A bit competitive, I check that no one is watching and up my pace. Soon our numbers on the screen match indicating we’re at the same speed.

  His eyebrows raise as he huffs under his breath. “I understand you have something for me?”

  Stunned, I stare. Certainly, the US government wouldn’t trust something as important as what I have with him? He’s nothing but a big dumb hockey player from Canada, a stud muffin. Someone who makes women throw their panties at him.

  “Excuse me?” I push on the control panel, running faster.

  He exceeds my pace once again. “Don’t play dumb, Sonia. You’re in over your head. Hand over whatever it is you got and don’t do anything stupid. Do it now before your bodyguards notice and come back.”

  Does he really think I’d trust my future to him? My life? My only chance at freedom? I tell him to fuck off in Russian.

  He calls me an arrogant cunt in a dialect I can’t quite recognize. However, his meaning is clear.

  My face heated, I slow the treadmill, get off and hiss, “I wouldn’t trust you, with, with, my, my grandmother’s diary. Go away.”

  “Your father’s a dangerous man. Don’t fuck wid me. I’m here to help.” He jumps off, face dark, and touches my cheek with his rough palm.

  Immediately, zings shoot to my core, my clit swells, and moisture pools but I’m no longer a stupid teen. They’ll be no panty throwing, today.

  “Tell your FBI they’re dumb as doorknob. Okay?” The moment I jerk my head away, I wish I hadn’t. I should’ve kissed him, instead.

  He growls, fists clenched, and his voice is tight. “First off, they are not my FBI. Secondly, I don’t believe the man who approached me was a real agent.”

  Oh shit. Light-headed, I put a hand on his arm to steady myself. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  He rolls his beautiful blue eyes to the ceiling, regards me through thick lashes, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. “I could convince you, eh?”

  No matter this man’s charms, he cannot be trusted. Not four years ago with my heart and certainly not now, with my only chance for freedom.

  “Sonia!” At the sound of my coach’s angry shout, I jump back and away from Kit.

  Leonid glares at the hockey player, the only man who’s made my sex-organ come to life, and pulls me behind him. “Why’re you talking to her?”

  “It’s a free country.” Kit smirks, looming a full foot taller than my coach.

  “She’s not interested.”

  From that point on, Leonid hovers, making it impossible to pass off the disc.

  The rest of my session, Kit glares icicles. No doubt he wants to kill me but I don’t give a shit. This business is much too important to leave to the likes of him.

  Chapter 5

  Kit

  As I exit the rehab center, I’m hard as fuck. Sonia’s fingers on my arm had sent blood to my cock and after that, watching her for over an over was pure torture. What the hell’s she gotten herself into, eh? When I tried to get close, her coach hovered, giving me no option but to leave empty handed.

  Merde.

  A black Ford pulls to the curb, the back-window slides down, and the asshat from yesterday leans out. There’s a pretty brunette behind the wheel smiling, looking me up and down like I’m a piece of licorice. She’s a pretty enough brunette and I’d do her if I had time. Right now, I’m late for practice.

  “Mr. Tufek? I believe you have something for me?” Even if the FBI Agent is legit, he’s got no right to ask me favors. I Googled it. He’s full of shit.

  Leaning inside, I ignore the man and wink at the driver. “Does this vehicle have sirens and lights?”

  She grins and nods.

  “Fine. Get me to the rink on the Chelsea Piers.” I hand her my phone with Google Maps open and climb into the back seat, next to asshat.

  Watching my hands, he slides to other side of the car. “Perhaps we didn’t get off on the right foot? Let’s start over, shall we? I’m Agent Tory and that’s Agent Popolopolis.”

  “Call me Poppy.” The woman in the rear-view mirror shoots me a flirty smile, making sirens scream as we speed across Brooklyn and into Queens.

  In silence, we pass 59th Street, 59th Avenue and 59th Place, then he opens his palm and says, “Okay, hand it over.”

  “Sorry. No can do.”

  “What the hell happened?” When Tory rubs his face, a gold band shines on his wrist. I highly doubt the United States pays their agents enough for that Rolex but play along.

  “Even after I dispatched her bodyguards, her coach hovered. She obviously didn’t feel it was safe to give it to me.”

  When Tory starts to open his mouth, Poppy barges in. “We think Sonia is in grave danger. You may be the only person who can help her.”

  “Sorry. I’m done.” I wouldn’t trust these two further than I could throw them.

  “Would US Citizenship convince you?” Agent Poppy tries to read my blank face.

  She can’t offer me that. They must be desperate and desperate people say and do stupid things. That thought makes my chest tighten. Sonia’s in way over her head.

  Traffic slows outside the tunnel, I check the time, and as best as possible begin stretching by bringing one knee then the other to my chest. Meanwhile, dick-head digs into his inner jacket pocket and hands me an envelope.

  I slide out a thick, expensive, engraved card. “What’s dis?”

  “Sonia’s engagement party. Tonight.”

  “She marrying him? That abusive prick?” He’s maybe twenty years her senior but that’s not my issue. Even the talking heads on ESPN comment on his unacceptable coaching style.

  Suddenly, I get this odd urge to play hero. “If I go to this affair? I get whatever she has and leave? C’est tout?”

  They nod.

  I pick up the phone and call Maddie, my seventy-year-old assistant. “Allo, cherie. Do I have anything scheduled tonight?”

  “Hot date?”

  “Want the details?” I smirk.

  “Not very likely, young man. And just remember, your rink time starts at 9:00AM sharp. Tomorrow, there’ll be a car outside your apartment waiting. Your teammates called to let me know you missed warm ups and blamed me, for goodness sakes.”

  “I’ll clear it up, I promise. Not a blemish on your spotless record. Besides I’m almost there.”

  “Humph.”

  “You know I love you, cherie.”

  “Of course, you do. Without me you’d be lost.”

  “So, you’ll make sure my tux is ready.”

  “Need flowers?”

  “Only if you agree to be my date.”

  She laughs.

  “Okay. Next time, perhaps.” I hang up, chuckling, and continue to warm up as best I can in the back seat of a limo.

  Once dropped off, I run across the parking lot and into the locker room. The rest of my team is on the ice, so I dress quickly, grab my stick, and join the line. I miss the first shot, earning me some good-natured ribbing about whatever woman made me late for practice.

  At that thought, I’m ready to call one of my friends-with-benefits. Maybe tomorrow, after practi
ce, I’ll get laid. The ice princess set something off inside of me and I hate being fully loaded with no release in sight.

  Chapter 6

  Sonia

  I have no say about the engagement party, nor where it will be held, nor who will be invited. My God, I don’t even have a choice in the groom.

  Shaking, I bite off the bit of thread where I’ve sewn that damn thumb drive into the seam of my silk dress. The form fitting bodice with the handkerchief hem resembles the costume where I won silver. No public appearance can be made without reminding people of my achievements. There’s too much advertising money at stake.

  The hotel phone rings and I answer, shuddering at my father’s tone. “Hurry up. The car leaves in fifteen minutes.”

  I pray to my Mongolian ancestors to help me to be brave. As bad as it’s been living under my father’s rule, Leonid will be far worse and tonight may be my last chance to escape.

  Before I go, I glance one more time in the mirror to make sure I’m perfect. My hair is coiffed, the almond shape of my eyes enhanced, and my cheekbones pronounced. I had to add extra coverup to the purple hue on my chin.

  Then, ignoring my cell phone’s bleeps, I step out into the hall. This time it’ll be Leonid threatening to come get me if I’m not downstairs immediately. Is it no wonder I drag my feet?

  I called the Russian consulate who said my wedding is a personal matter. And, according to the Americans, they can’t intervene until a crime has been committed.

  Seriously? A man is about to marry me against my will and they do nothing?

  Pasting on an icy smile, I exit the elevator and put the mandatory kisses on my father’s cheeks. Leonid, face full of fury, clamps onto my upper arm and pulls me out of the lobby and into the limo while overhead, the sky grows green. After thunder booms, deafening rain pounds upon the car’s roof, making me morose.

  About now, a normal woman about to celebrate her twenty-first birthday would be offered a drink. Instead, my father and Leonid share an expensive brandy.

  “She’ll win the next gold, yes?” My father’s eyes bore a hole into Leonid’s face.