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“I don’t want to be anything like you,” Jack snarled back. He turned his attention back to Kennedy. “Please, listen to me. Come with me.”
He held out his hand.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said.
As if I wasn’t already so fucking in love with her.
But while Jack tried to win her over, Carter stepped between her and me.
It was a bad fucking idea to get between Kennedy and me again.
“Leave her alone,” he said, his face dark with anger. “You’re just going to get her hurt.”
His voice dropped so that Kennedy wouldn’t overhear. “Again.”
“Don’t whisper sweet fucking nothings to me, Carter, I don’t want to hear them any more than she does.” I pushed him out of my way.
Or tried to.
Carter was still built like a truck.
“Get out of here,” Carter warned me, grabbing my arm to hold me back. “Stay away from her. Or I’m going to—”
I was so curious what the hell kind of threat he was going to make.
But apparently not curious enough, because instinct took over, and I decked Carter across the jaw.
He should’ve seen it coming. His winning personality meant he’d taken plenty of hits off the ice and on, even though he was supposed to be safe as goalie. But apparently he’d gotten soft since he ran away from my world, because he rocked back.
Then he threw himself at me.
I hadn’t spent the last few years training for nothing. I swiveled out of his way and then, because I kept close tabs on my old friends, I aimed a quick, snappy kick at his fucked-up right knee.
Carter was already pivoting to lock up on me, but the kick took his leg out from underneath him. His face was shocked as his knee gave way and he stumbled down one of the steps, before losing his balance completely. His big body slammed down the last few steps.
“What the fuck!” Jack yelled, shoving away from Kennedy. He threw one horrified look at Carter, then threw himself into me.
But these days, Jack was used to his fights being on the ice, not off. He wasn’t the young mafia enforcer he’d once been. He grabbed my jacket like he would’ve grabbed another player’s jersey, and I let him rip it off me as I buried my fist in his gut.
“Stop!” Kennedy cried out.
Jack and I closed up, throwing punches, jockeying to take each other down. The world went into a red blur of violence as my training took over.
The only thing that grounded me in this world and kept me from beating Carter to death was the way that Kennedy screamed.
* * *
I stood uncertainly on the steps for a few seconds that seemed to last a lifetime, trying to figure out what to do.
I didn’t even understand what had just happened. I certainly couldn’t figure out what to do next. Carter and Jack ignored me like I was dressed in wallpaper and drywall. Why the hell had they come flying out here like Greyson was some kind of threat?
But then…
Carter was at the bottom of the steps, rolling up to one knee and forcing himself up, with pain etched across his features. He was obviously struggling to put any weight on his wounded leg.
Meanwhile, Jack and Greyson were trading punches. Jack was strong and dangerous on the ice, but here Greyson seemed to have the advantage as Greyson launched a brutal, punishing volley of punches. Jack blocked most of them and got in a punch across Greyson’s jaw that sent him flying back a step, but Greyson was unphased, shaking it off and dancing forward again.
“I’m going to kill you!” Jack told Greyson. “Stay away from her!”
