Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
He bit his lip and moved back again. “I’m just here to hang out.”
Even if that was true, I was sure I could change his mind. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”
He shook his head. “I’m trying to be more discreet.”
“I excel at discretion.” That was the first lie I told him, but I would do whatever was necessary to have him. The longer I stood there watching him, the more I wanted him, and the surer I became that he was someone special. This wouldn’t be just another fling.
“Hey Balogh, we’re heading out.” The team’s goalie waved at him. “Are you with us?”
“Yeah, just a second.”
“You’ll have more fun if you leave with me.” I laid my hand on his arm, and he didn’t try to pull away. He was considering it.
“Possibly, but I don’t need that kind of fun right now.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong about that. I bet you’ve never even had fun like I can show you.”
“I need to leave.” He turned and walked away.
I watched him go, then paid my tab and headed out. I had every intention of tracking him and his friends down, but as I left the bar, my phone buzzed with a message from Lucien, the head of the family.
Emergency here. Get on a plane home ASAP.
Fuck. I’d have to let Balogh go. For now.
Zeke
I hadn’t taken ten steps down the sidewalk before I was looking back toward the door of the bar. Who was that man, and how had he known exactly what I wanted? It took all my self-control not to tell my teammates to go on without me.
Hooking up with a man like that, a man who screamed DANGER! from the moment I’d seen him staring at me from behind the glass, was the last thing I needed. I was trying to lay low, to act with discretion. I couldn’t imagine a man like that being the calm, sedate partner I needed in my life.
When I’d first signed with the Wildcats, I’d been a fucking idiot. I’d made all the mistakes of a stupid-ass rookie, even those everyone warned me about. I’d come from nothing, fought my way to the NHL, and when all the money came pouring in and the fans clamored for my attention, I’d fucked it all up.
The team had signed me knowing I was out and proud. I had no regrets about that. I’d decided before I entered the draft that I wasn’t going to hide who I was. I wanted to be seen as a role model for younger LGBTQ+ people in sports, but all I became known for was how quickly I ran through men. I had a right to fuck as many men as I wanted, but I hadn’t meant to let my exploits be so public. Pictures of me and various hook-ups had been splashed all over social media, and all the news surrounding me focused on how much sex I had, not what I accomplished on the ice.
My reputation wasn’t the only thing I’d ruined. I’d lost so much fucking money at the tables. I had to win back some of what I’d lost tonight. I was drowning—fast—and I couldn’t fuck up my chance to follow my dream. Within weeks of signing with the Wildcats, I started joining my teammates at their favorite casinos on a regular basis. I allowed myself to be sucked into the allure of big winnings. I figured I was making so much money it wouldn’t matter if I threw some of it away. I’d had a long winning streak, but it came to an end like they always do.
The NHL was my one chance to be a star. I could be rich, live easy, not have any more problems, but all I’d done since I’d gotten to Las Vegas was make stupid choices. I needed to stay away from men and from gambling, at least as soon as I won enough to pay off my debt.
2
ZEKE
six months later
My phone buzzed as I was putting it in my locker. I glanced down and immediately wished I hadn’t. The message that showed on the screen made my stomach turn.
We’re watching you.
I’d known I couldn’t run away from my problems when I got traded to Boston, but I’d let myself hope the men I owed wouldn’t pursue me here.
That was stupid considering I owed as much as I did. Every time I went to the casino determined to win enough to pay off my debt, I fell into a deeper hole and promised myself I wouldn’t go back, but I always did. Sometimes I’d win and the feeling was as good as scoring a goal on the ice. The high had been too tempting, and now I was fucked.
I hadn’t really believed getting traded to Boston was the solution to my problem, had I? Maybe I’d wanted to believe it, but I’d known I couldn’t actually hide from the fucking loan sharks I’d resorted to borrowing money from. They weren’t the type to just forget about a debt. A few months ago, one of them had broken my fucking arm when I hadn’t made a payment. It had ruined the end of my season, taking me out of the playoffs.