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The sound of people arguing causes me to pause as I pass the gym. I hesitate to get involved, concerned I’m intruding on something I shouldn’t be, until I catch sight of Queenie, chin tipped up in defiance while some huge guy gets right in her face.
I have a low tolerance for any kind of behavior that threatens the fairer sex. Not because I believe women can’t fend for themselves but because men generally have the physical advantage, and this is especially true when it comes to Queenie. She’s petite.
I can’t tell who has her cornered, but there is absolutely no way I’ll allow this to continue. Even if it’s Jake. Especially if it’s Jake.
I yank open the door as the guy grabs for her wrist and she tries to duck out of the way, except he has her pinned up against a piece of equipment. “Hey, buddy, you need to back off. Now.” I don’t recognize my voice, which seems to be more growl than actual words.
The man encroaching on Queenie’s personal space turns around, his expression reflecting irritation. I recognize him, I realize. He’s Corey Slater, forward for Philly, and one of the most difficult players in the entire league. He has more game suspensions than any other player. Even more than Lance Romero in his rookie years, and that’s saying something. But he’s also leading in goals, so while he has a reputation for being a general pain in the ass, he’s one of the top players in the league.
A smug smile turns up the corner of his mouth as he looks me over. “This is a private conversation, buddy, so maybe you need to mind your own fucking business.” He turns back to Queenie, dismissing me.
Anger like I’ve never felt before makes my spine hot and my fingers curl into fists. I step into the gym and let the door close behind me. “Queenie happens to be my girlfriend, so the fact that you’re putting your hands on her and using your size to physically intimidate her makes this one hundred percent my fucking business.”
Queenie’s eyes flare in surprise, and Corey chuckles.
“So it is true. How’s your daddy feel about that?” He shakes his head and glances over his shoulder. “Get out while you can, man. She’s not worth the trouble.”
I take pride in the fact that I’ve never been in a fight on the ice, or ever, really. Even when I was a teenager and hormones made tempers flare, I was always able to keep it together and avoid reacting without thinking.
But the way Queenie’s face has crumpled and her shoulders have curled in, like she’s physically trying to protect herself from his words, and the actual words themselves, cause a spike of rage to short out my entire center of reason. I also realize, based on that one statement, and the way he’s invading her space, that Corey and Queenie know each other, possibly in ways I don’t want to consider too closely.
I grab his shoulder, which finally puts his attention on me. “Do not disrespect Queenie. Not ever.”
His smug sneer pulls higher, distorting his face. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
I edge my way between him and Queenie, creating a barricade. “Do not push me, Slater.”
He has the audacity to laugh. “Look at you, getting all righteous and defensive over some chick. I didn’t think you actually had any balls, Kingston.”
I fist his shirt. In the back of my head I recognize violence isn’t going to help. If anything at all, it’s going to make the entire situation worse, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “First of all, Queenie is not some chick. She is my goddamn girlfriend, and if you talk to her or about her like that again I will not hesitate to put you in your place. Secondly, who the hell do you think you are, coming in here, talking to her like that?”
“First of all, I’m her ex-boyfriend, so Queenie and I go way back, don’t we?” He glances over my shoulder, his smirk growing. “Secondly, I’m your new teammate, so it might be a good idea to reconsider putting me in my place, unless you want to end up watching games from the bench.”
“What?” I don’t know which one of those pieces of information I find more shocking.
“God, you’re such an antagonistic dick, Corey.” Queenie puts her hand over mine and tries to pry my fingers loose from his shirt. “Let him go, King. He’s actually not worth the time or energy it would take to kick his annoying ass.” She squeezes my biceps gently.
I let go of Corey’s shirt, more because Queenie is touching me than anything else. Corey and I take a step away from each other. He’s still smirking, but there’s uncertainty lurking there now where there wasn’t before. I pull Queenie into my side and wrap a protective arm around her.
