Page 312 of Power Play

“Cade told me not to come.”

That stopped me for half a second.

Briggs unzipped his duffel and pulled out a beer.

“You brought fucking beer into the arena?”

“I always bring beer.”

“I don’t want one.”

“They aren’t for you.”

He opened the bottle and took a drink.

My temper climbed another degree. “Get the fuck out.”

Briggs leaned one shoulder against the glass. “No.”

“This is my rink.”

“It’s the Frost’s rink. Unless you bought the franchise on the drive up, your ownership claim feels shaky.”

“I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

“I didn’t bring any.”

The absence of humor in his voice pissed me off worse than any joke would have. Briggs met my stare through the glass without smiling, moving, or pretending he didn’t see the blood on my hand.

“I’m not talking tonight.”

“I don’t need you to talk.”

“Then why the fuck are you here?”

“To listen.”

A laugh tore out of me with nothing funny attached to it.

“¿A qué, carnal? Ella no dijo nada.”

Briggs’s expression didn’t change.

“Lo sé.”

I stepped through the bench door and got close enough that he had to tip his chin to keep looking at me.

“Ella no dijo nada. Ni una puta palabra.”

“Lo sé.”

I knew Briggs spoke Spanish. I knew exactly how fluent he was, but hearing him answer me in the language Charm couldn’t understand made the rage inside me turn poisonous.

“That what you drove two fucking hours to hear?” I shoved off my helmet and threw it onto the bench. “You know. Great. Conversation over.”

Briggs raised the beer again, and I slapped it from his hand. The bottle struck the floor and rolled beneath the bench, spilling foam across the rubber.

His eyes followed it before returning to me. There was still no grin on his face.