The Pucking Wrong Man: A Hockey Romance (The Pucking Wrong Series Book 4)
Chapter 31

I walked down the hallway after class, exhausted and ready to head home. “Anastasia,” a voice called. Turning, I saw one of the office admin people walking toward me—Linda, I think was her name—and Michael.

I froze, gaping at the wide smile on his face as she said something to him and pointed over to where I was standing.

“I had no idea you had such a charming brother,” Linda cooed as she got closer. “He came to the office looking for you. You really need to answer your phone,” she chided lightly.

“Foster-brother,” I murmured, the synapses in my brain not working correctly because I was used to Michael showing up outside. This was the first time that he’d actually come inside, violating an unspoken treaty between us I just now realized I had believed in.

My heart sank, dread twisting in my stomach.

“Thank you, Linda,” Michael said charmingly. “My parents will be so grateful for your help. Anastasia has been so busy lately, we’ve scarcely seen her!’

I felt sick as I watched him play Linda like a fool. This was what he always did, and just like always, I couldn’t believe that no one else seemed to see the cockroach that lay under his pleasant surface.

I wanted to scream as I watched her walk away.

“Get over here, Anastasia. We’re leaving.”

I was stuck in place, unable to move.

I couldn’t do it. Not now that I had Camden.

Anger flashed across his face. “Sorry, I should have said that differently. Let’s fucking go.” The genteel tone dropped, replaced by the one I was used to when I didn’t give him what he wanted. “Fight me on this, and I’ll release those fucking photos. Everywhere. See how much that NHL star wants you when the whole world can see your pussy, and he replaces out how much you like to show it off.”

My shoulders fell. Camden had been so upset just on the notion that I was interviewing at a strip club. How would he feel when the whole world saw me naked?

Disgusted, obviously.

Trust me. I could hear his voice in my head saying that over and over again.

But in this case, it wasn’t about not trusting him. It was about not tainting him. I didn’t want him to have anything to do with Michael Carver.

He was way too good for him.

“Move,” he hissed, pushing me toward the exit behind me.

One problem with that, though—my phone was still in my locker. Camden would freak out when I didn’t text him and didn’t come outside after class.

“I need to grab my phone.”

Michael snorted. “Like I’m going to give you a chance to let fancy pants know there’s been a change of plans today. Get fucking moving. I’m getting annoyed, Ana, and you know what happens when I get like this.”

I did. Oh, I did. One time, he’d stabbed me with a fire poker just because he decided he didn’t like the sound of my voice—I hadn’t even been talking. Another time, he’d put his hands around my neck and choked me until I passed out.

There were a million stories in my back pocket like that.

The ride to his childhood house felt like a nightmare, every familiar landmark like a monster waiting to pounce. As we pulled into the Carver’s driveway, its familiar worn bricks and perfectly landscaped lawn sent waves of nausea through me. Mrs. Carver even had pink roses blooming this year.

The same roses that Michael used to pick for me, placing them in my hand and making me squeeze the thorny stems until I bled.

“Home sweet home,” Michael cooed, shooting me a grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

His hand pressed against my back as we walked up the sidewalk to the front door. It felt like a death sentence.

“Hello, Anastasia,” Mrs. Carver said when she opened the door, staring at me with the same lifeless eyes she’d had the entire time I was growing up. The house smelled the same, a mix of Pine-Sol and stale air. It made me want to run, but Michael’s fingers dug into my skin, pushing me across the living room to the dining table that was already set.

“Look who decided to join us,” Mrs. Carver said to her husband, her tone icy.

Mr. Carver sat at the head of the table, his stern face etched with permanent disapproval as he cast me a disinterested glance, eyes cold and calculating behind his glasses. Mrs. Carver settled herself rigidly onto the seat beside him, a tight-lipped smile on her pink stained lips, the same color she’d worn while I’d lived with them. Her posture was stiff and unwelcoming, but her gaze softened when she stared at her son. It looked like her blind spot for the psychopath hadn’t gone away.

It was obvious, as usual, whose idea it had been for me to come to dinner.

Michael’s hand slid down to the curve of my ass, and I lunged forward, sitting in a chair before he could do anything else.

After dinner, would he have something to show me in his old room? Would his camera be sitting on the desk? Would a silk blanket be draped across his bed? I was on the verge of a panic attack just sitting here.

There was a baked chicken on the middle of the table, expertly made I was sure because Mrs. Carver had always been a good cook.

I wanted to throw up all over it.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. We all glanced at it, like a doorbell ringing was the oddest thing that could ever happen.

Mrs. Carver sniffed when it rang again. “That package is two hours late,” she huffed. She finally stood, her expression irritated as she went to answer it. I heard the faint murmur of voices—and one sounded awfully familiar. Sitting up straighter in my seat, my eyes darted towards the doorway.

But surely not…I had to be imagining his voice out of pure longing because I wanted him to be here so badly…protecting me like he had with everything else.

Her footsteps echoed on the tile floor, signaling her return—but there was another set of footsteps that had joined hers.

My heart nearly stopped when I saw Camden behind her, looking completely at ease and confident and flawless…despite the fact that he’d just walked into a house of horrors.

It was all I could do not to burst into tears. How had he found me?

How was he always able to save me?

“Hi, baby girl,” Camden said cheerfully, coming over and placing a soft kiss on my cheek, his hand warm and comforting and perfect as he gently squeezed my shoulder. He glanced at the food laid out on the table. “This looks amazing, Mrs. Carver. My mouth is literally watering.”

“Who are you?” Mr. Carver asked, the first words he’d spoken since I’d arrived. He was eying Camden like he was an alien who’d landed from space.

In this family, he might as well have been.

“I’m Camden, Mr. Carver. Anastasia’s boyfriend. I’m sorry for the surprise visit, I was held up with hockey practice. It was so nice that Ana was able to get a ride.” I didn’t miss his inflection on the word nice, but Mr. and Mrs. Carver seemed to.

“Hockey practice?” Mr. Carver asked, the first time I’d heard him sound interested in something since I’d met him.

“Anastasia hasn’t mentioned it? I’m a defenseman for the Knights.”

Mr. Carver leaned forward. “The Dallas Knights?”

“Yes, sir.”

And just like that, I watched as Mr. and Mrs. Carver turned into putty in Camden’s hands.

“This is Michael, our son,” Mrs. Carver said, gesturing to the sonofabitch as Camden settled on my other side.

Camden was silent for a moment, and I saw his gaze was focused on where Michael’s fingers were digging into my thigh. I’d forgotten his nails were even hurting me—I was just so fucking relieved Camden was here.

“Hello, Michael,” Camden said evenly, his stare slowly dragging to Michael’s face. I shivered at the underlying threat in his voice. Michael must have heard it, too, because he yanked his hand away from my leg.

I couldn’t help but look at Michael—not surprised at the look of pure fury in his eyes. Michael had probably been planning this dinner for months, and Camden was ruining everything for him.

Camden leaned back, his arm draped casually over my shoulders. “Can you grab the potatoes for me, Michael? I’m starving.”

Michael stared at him for a moment, a menacing snarl on his lips, as he finally slowly reached for the bowl. But Mrs. Carver got to it before he could, practically shoving the potatoes at Camden in her effort to get them to him.

It would have been funny if anyone but the Carvers were the ones doing it. There just wasn’t anything funny about them.

We began to eat—or at least everyone else did. I couldn’t stomach a single bite, even with Camden here. Now that my initial surge of dopamine at his arrival had leveled, I was getting anxious again.

Camden was going to replace out about the pictures.

And he was going to be so disappointed in me. Cheeks burning, I glanced at Camden, expecting to see a scowl on his handsome face. But when he saw me looking, he gave me a reassuring smile, like everything was fine.

“So, Michael, how’s work treating you?” Camden said lightly.

Michael stiffened next to me.

“Oh, Michael’s in between jobs, right now. His manager was just awful,” Mrs. Carver commented. “He’ll replace something soon, though. He’s such a smart boy.”

I almost gagged on the small bite of mashed potatoes I’d just put into my mouth at the idea of Michael being called a “boy.” He was far too evil to ever resemble that word.

“Thanks, Mom,” Michael said through gritted teeth, not sounding thankful at all.

I didn’t speak a word for the rest of dinner. Neither did Michael.

Camden, meanwhile, ate every bite on his plate, and entertained Mr. and Mrs. Carver with NHL stories the entire time. It felt like forever had passed when he finally pushed back from his chair. “Well, we’d better get going. I’m sure Anastasia’s exhausted from dance today. This was amazing, though.”

Mrs. Carver blinked at me like she’d forgotten I was there. “Oh, you can’t stay for dessert?” she asked disappointedly.

Camden patted his stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite, ma’am. That was the best chicken I’ve ever had.”

It was almost fascinating, watching Camden turn Mrs. Carver into a tittering version of herself.

It didn’t escape my attention that Mrs. Carver didn’t offer me dessert. It also didn’t surprise me in the slightest.

“Come on, baby girl,” Camden said, helping me out of my chair.

“Thank you,” I said, every nerve on edge. Was this it? Were we really going to walk out of here unscathed, and it would be done?

“I’ll show you out,” Michael said then, dashing all my hopes.

“Oh that’s—” I started to say, but Camden cut me off.

“Sounds good.”

Shit.

Camden said his goodbyes, artfully evading Mrs. Carver’s invitation to come back soon. She and her husband had a much cooler farewell for me, but it was still infinitely less icy than it usually was.

And then we were walking out, Michael silently stalking behind us.

None of us said anything until we were outside, the door to the house firmly closed.

“Go get in the truck,” Camden suddenly murmured to me, and I glanced up at him, only to see the full weight of his feelings.

He was absolutely furious.

“Let’s just go,” I whispered back, not because I was scared that in a fair fight Camden couldn’t beat Michael to a pulp…but because never in the history of the world would Michael ever engage in a fair fight.

“Are you sure she’s worth it?” Michael called from behind us then.

Camden stiffened and slowly turned to face him. “Excuse me?” he said, in a chilly voice that should have sent Michael running, if Michael had any normal human emotions left in him.

Instead, Michael stood his ground, his arms folded in front of him, a wide grin stretched across his serial killer face. “She obviously doesn’t care about you if she won’t even give me what I want for the pictures.”

Fuck.

This was it.

A terrifying heat was settling over Camden as he stared at the man who had tormented me from the time I was just a girl.

“What pictures?”

Michael laughed, looking delighted as his gaze bounced between us like a demonic ping-pong ball.

“Well, she can’t be that in love with you if she hasn’t told you about that.”

“What pictures, Anastasia?” Camden turned to look at me, completely ignoring Michael. His body was stiff, a dark expression in his gaze that I couldn’t quite read.

I squeezed my eyes shut, a tremor passing over my skin. I wished this wasn’t happening in the front yard of the house that still gave me nightmares to this day. My throat was clogged, anxiety clawing at my spine. My pulse was racing so fast, I thought my heart might explode.

“Smile, little bunny. Arch your back. Pinch your nipple. Yes, that’s it. You like that, you little slut.”

Memory after memory assaulted my brain. Fuck. I was going to throw up. Leaning over, my breath came out in short, panicked gasps.

I didn’t want to give Michael a show. He’d love that, me sick over him.

Frantically inhaling, I tried to make myself brave enough to talk about this—my darkest secret, my biggest shame. This was where I would lose him though.

I forced myself to straighten, dragging my eyes to meet Camden’s face. I just needed to get the words out, to get it done.

Slowly I began…every syllable halting and painful.

“Growing up, Michael would take…pictures of me…without my consent. And since then, every time I’ve come here, he’s forced me to take more.” I took in a deep, shuddering breath. “I know I shouldn’t have let him, but I’m terrified of him,” I tried to explain.

My excuses sounded stupid coming out of my mouth, but I didn’t know how else to explain the sheer psychological terror that I experienced because of Michael. He was the bogeyman in the closet for me. And he knew it.

Michael had never given a threat that he hadn’t followed through with.

“Now that you’re here, though, you can give me the money that your little girlfriend couldn’t. And this whole thing can be over with,” Michael said gleefully.

Camden was still looking at me, a blank expression on his face. Why wasn’t he reacting to what I’d said? What was he thinking?

He was disgusted by me, I knew it.

I knew this was how it was going to be.

“He’s been blackmailing me since you and I met. I…I didn’t want to embarrass you.” The words came out in a choked whisper, shame so thick in my voice that I could taste it on my tongue.

Camden slowly turned to give Michael his attention, not acknowledging what I’d said at all. I squeezed my eyes shut in pain, a tear sliding down my cheek.

“You ever study cockroaches, Michael?” he asked, and I blinked, because that’s what Michael was. A cockroach.

“Can’t say I have, Camden.”

“Well, the thing about them is that if you kill one, there’s always another one that’s waiting in the wings. I’m sure someone has described you as one before, so you should get that allegory.”

Michael lifted his chin, his cheeks reddening.

“I’m not paying you that money. Cockroaches like you never give up. There’s really only one way to get rid of them. Do you know what that is?”

There was a tic in Michael’s cheek, and he didn’t answer, his pale blue eyes darkening like clouds right before a storm.

“Extermination.” Camden leaned forward, his lips curling into a menacing smile that gave me goosebumps.

Michael’s eyes widened in shock, and my heart was pounding…I was pretty sure Camden had just threatened to kill Michael.

The thing was, I wasn’t sure what method of death could possibly be enough to pay Michael back for what he’d done.

The door opened then, and Mrs. Carver peeked her head out, her gaze darting between us all, like she’d just noticed the tension that had been present all of dinner. “Everything okay out here?”

“Of course, Mrs. Carver. We were just talking about pest control.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Carver said, clearly confused since it was the dead of winter and bugs weren’t a problem at the moment. “Well, have a safe drive.” She lifted her hand in farewell.

“See you, ma’am,” Camden nodded, his palm on my back as he led me toward the truck.

I could feel Michael’s gaze digging into my spinal cord, probably planning all the terrible things he was going to do to me.

We drove off, and I kept my eyes on the road in front of us, not daring to look back and lock eyes with Michael.

I could only breathe after we’d turned a corner and we were no longer in his sights.

The silence was stifling though, and I couldn’t handle it. I was so damn grateful that Camden come for me, but I was sure I’d fucked it all up—again.

I glanced at him, flinching when I saw how livid he was. His teeth were gritted together and he was clenching the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were white. My heart was squeezing in my chest. I knew he’d be angry at me for this. I knew he’d hate me.

“Thank you for coming to get me. I’m so sorry,” I finally sobbed brokenly. “I understand if you don’t want to see me again…”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Camden’s face snapped toward me. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“What?” I whispered, confused. “But you’re…furious.”

Camden growled, beating on the steering wheel with one of his palms. “Of course, I’m furious! I just found out that a disgusting monster has been torturing you for your entire life. He was taking intimate pictures of you. He was violating you! And no one fucking did anything about it! I’m trying not to turn the truck around and kill him.”

I started crying harder as his eyes softened, the look in them turning tender and loving as he focused on me.

How could he look at me like that after what I’d just admitted?

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he soothed. I blinked, my hands shaking as I brought them to my face in disbelief. Was he serious? He couldn’t be? Could he?

A thread of hope…and relief began to twist its way along my insides.

“I wish you had trusted me. But I understand. I do. You’re fucking terrified of that motherfucker, that’s obvious. I realized it that day when I saw him standing on the street corner outside of Charlie’s. But you’re not going to have to deal with him anymore. I’m going to take care of him. I told you the other night that I’m going to take care of everything.” He sounded so confident, like all of this was easy.

“You don’t understand, Camden. He’s…he’s not normal. The pictures are only one of his things. He used to torture me after I moved in, crazy stuff—things I can’t even talk about because it’s so freaking traumatic to even say them out loud. And embarrassing too…” My last words came out in a whisper.

“Why is it embarrassing?” Camden asked, his voice careful, like he could sense I was falling apart.

“Because I…I just let it all happen. I told his parents the first few times, and they called me a liar, so I never brought it up again. I never told anyone—not my teachers or my caseworker…no one. I was too afraid of them not believing me…or of being placed somewhere even worse.” I swiped at my eyes, furious that any of my tears were attached to Michael.

Camden abruptly pulled to the side of the road, threw the truck in park, and then faced me fully. “You were a young girl, recovering from a horrific injury, who was all by herself. I think you’re the bravest, most incredible person I’ve ever met, Anastasia.”

I scoffed. “You don’t have to say that.”

He reached across the seat, cradling my face with both hands as he pulled me closer to him. “I’m fucking serious. Anastasia Lennox, I am in complete awe of you, and that only grows with every passing day.”

I closed my eyes as he placed the most heartbreakingly sweet kiss on my lips.

Every time I thought it would be too much, that this would be when we broke, he fixed us.

Or maybe the better way to say it was…he fixed me.

A thought hit me as he let me go and pulled the truck back on the road.

“How did you replace me?” I asked.

“When you weren’t there when I came to pick you up, and you weren’t answering your phone—” he added, casting me an exasperated look. “I went into the studio and asked if anyone had seen you. Some front office lady said that your brother…Michael…had come to get you.”

His hands tensed on the steering wheel before he took a deep breath and relaxed them. “I had the address of your foster parents already…it had come up when I had done some research on you when I was trying to figure you out.”

“Some research?” I asked, my cheeks flushed because I was guessing that meant he knew a lot more about me than I’d thought. I was more embarrassed than upset. He was technically famous…sometimes I forgot about that. I would think someone, his agent, his publicist…someone was looking at who these guys dated.

Camden reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m glad I knew what I did. What exactly was your plan tonight? What happened?”

I told him how I’d been cornered after practice and basically forced to the house.

We pulled into the parking garage, and Camden turned off the truck, sitting so silently that I began to fidget in my seat with nervousness.

Finally, he looked at me, and I got lost in the fire in his gaze, twin flames of warning. “You are not going to worry about Michael Carver anymore, do you understand, baby girl?” he vowed. “I’m going to destroy him if he ever comes close to you again. He doesn’t exist in your world. The monster is dead, okay?”

I nodded, a touch of hope filling my chest. I wanted to believe him. I wanted it desperately.

Maybe it should have scared me what he was promising, but it didn’t, not at all.

Because like he’d said, the only way to truly get rid of a cockroach…was complete extermination.