Secret Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)
Secret Obsession: Chapter 52

I pull away from the curb in my new rental, fuming in my head. In the rearview mirror, the police precinct gets smaller and smaller.

Detective Barrister spent the better part of an hour grilling me about enemies of Willow’s, where she spends her evenings, who might be out to get her. If she’s had any run-ins with a man who Willow might be too embarrassed to talk to the police about.

She showed me a sketch, a loose rendition of the man I killed. Although I suppose it could be his brother, the one searching for us.

In a way, I feel like we’re being hunted.

Steele and Greyson went to Prime last night to scope the place out. They did spot security cameras, but they didn’t have cash on them to bribe anyone to see it. The bartender seemed like the type to sway when faced with cash, though, so they’re going to return tonight.

I can only imagine the fiasco that would erupt if the investigating detective discovered we’ve been snooping. And worse, that we knew exactly who we were looking for.

This asshole is targeting her, but he’s been elusive. I keep scanning the streets in front of me for the dark truck with the brush guard, the one that totaled my car, but I’ve been coming up empty.

Willow: See you at the arena?

Me: On my way.

I drop my phone in the cup holder. My hockey bag is in the trunk. It’ll be nice to have Willow within sight—and hopefully not too much of a distraction—and focus on what I can control. Stopping the puck from getting past me.

In just a few days, we play Leighton University at home. And then I’ll take Willow back to meet my parents.

Spring break is next month. She mentioned in passing that her family is coming to visit, and I’m going to meet them. Okay, well, she didn’t add that last part. But I will get an introduction, and perhaps buy them lunch or something. You know, make a good impression.

Since they’ve no doubt already got an earful about my brother’s reputation—and how skilled he is at breaking hearts.

I sigh.

Something catches my eye in the rearview mirror, and my spine prickles.

A truck.

Keep cool, I order myself, taking a breath. Just because a truck is behind me doesn’t mean it’s that truck. Even if it has a brush guard on the front. And just because it suddenly flicks on its high beams, nearly blinding me, doesn’t mean anything either.

I reach for my phone.

An engine roars behind me, and I’m reminded of the crunch sound my car made when it was rammed into a few nights ago. Then, I wasn’t in it. Then, I wasn’t going to be flattened like a pancake along with it.

I wrap my fingers around the phone, and I tell it to call my brother.

It rings.

Rings.

The roar gets louder, and I step on the gas out of pure instinct. My car shoots forward, running a stop sign and speeding through an empty intersection.

“Yo,” Knox answers.

“I’m being followed by that asshole.”

“Where are you?” he demands.

I crank the wheel, turning onto another road. One that will lead past campus and the arena. But the last thing I need is to lead him straight to Willow. “Passing the rink in two minutes.”

The headlights fill my rearview mirror, and I have a split second to brace.

His truck slams into me from behind.

The rental car goes squirrely, the back end swinging around, and I drop my phone. I manage to keep myself on the road and press the pedal down farther. Our speed picks up, the car whining.

“I dropped my phone,” I call. “If you can still hear me, I’m fine. I’m sure he just wants to scare Willow by getting to me—”

Slam.

This time, his hit spins my car. I lose control completely, my speed now a detriment. One of my wheels catches on a curb, and the whole vehicle lurches sideways. My head bounces off something, and my vision goes white for a second. My stomach goes with the car as it flips over on its side, sliding with a sharp squeal across someone’s lawn. My seat belt is the only thing keeping me from eating shit.

“Miles,” Knox is yelling. His voice is tinny. “Jesus fuck—”

Slam.

Metal bends, and the car shudders. It’s flipped onto the roof. I hang upside down. I’ve still got stars blooming in front of my eyes, and I can’t seem to focus. There’s another shudder, and glass tinkers around me.

My door is wrenched open, letting in cold air.

Hands reach in, and my seat belt is cut. I fall, my body smashing on the steering wheel, and I’m dragged out of the car and across the lawn. My heels leave twin, grooved paths in the snow-covered grass.

I’m guided up into the bed of the truck, and it only occurs to me belatedly to fucking fight. I struggle, swiping at him, but he swings something down. I see it coming, but my reactions are too fucking slow.

Pain explodes across my temple, and I’m out like a light.