Fire on Ice (Fire on Ice Series)

Fire on Ice

Fire on Ice Series: Book One

Dakota Madison

Fire on Ice

Copyright © 2013 by Dakota Madison

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.

This is a work of FICTION.

Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author's offbeat imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living, dead or previously dated by the author is entirely coincidental.

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Playlist

She’s So High
by Tal Bachman

You and Only You
by We the Kings

You’re Beautiful
by James Blunt

Iris
by Goo Goo Dolls

Little Lion Man
by Mumford & Sons

One

Kian

Runt stamped out his cigarette and glared at me.

“You really want to go into this place?” he muttered, already half drunk.

At only 5
-feet 7-inches, Runt was the smallest recruit on our team. But what he lacked in size, he made up for in speed on the ice.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “This place is for all the rich kids over at the U. Why don’t we head over to O’Sullivan’s instead?
Sheree said she’d be there after work.”

Sheree
was a dancer that Runt liked to hook up with. She worked at a strip club on the other side of town.

“I’m sure she’ll have a few friends with her,” he offered.

I shook my head. I was tired of the whole scene. Easy girls with daddy issues were just too easy sometimes. Where was the challenge? The thrill of the chase? Those girls would be on their backs with their legs spread the minute I got into their apartments. Hell, they’d probably let me do them in the bathroom or in the back seat of my Honda, if I was into that kind of thing. And there were always plenty of puck bunnies around—fan girls we could count on for a good time.

“Can we just go in and have a drink?” I suggested. “One drink isn’t
gonna kill you.”

Runt exhaled loudly. He loved to give me exaggerated teen-age girl sighs just to get under my skin, especially when he didn’t get his way. Runt and I had known each other for years. We kicked around the same neighborhood growing up and when I started playing hockey, I dragged him along with me. I was tough, the player that no one ever messed with, but Runt was fast and could handle the puck. Sometimes his talent was the only thing that saved him from getting his teeth knocked out because he could be kind of an asshole.

“If we’re going to go in, let’s do it,” Runt insisted. “And quit standing out here like pussies.”

Everywhere we went in town, people knew we played for the Firestorm. We were like celebrities in a town where not much else happened on Saturday nights but hockey. We never had to wait in line or pay to get in
to even the hottest clubs in town and we always had the pick of the crowd when it came to getting laid at the end of the night. I hadn’t learned very much in my first 21 years on earth but two things I did know about were women and hockey. I had plenty of experience in both
arenas
. And I knew most girls fell over themselves to date hockey players, even smart college girls.

Just as I expected, heads turned and eyes followed us as we entered the already crowded club. The Twisted Kilt was known for being one of the most popular places for kids from the U to hang out, probably because they were extremely lax with their carding policy, which could be summed up in two words:
looks legit
. As long as you looked even close to 21, you were in. I had a feeling the owner must have known some high rankers in city government or paid off the right people, maybe both. The place never got shut down despite the fact that probably half the people in there at any given time were underage.

Runt ordered us the usual: two pints of Guinness.

“One drink and we’re out of here,” he reminded me. “I don’t want to keep Sheree waiting.” What he really meant was if he didn’t catch her before her third drink, Sheree would probably be out the door with somebody else.

As I glanced at the sea of college kids drinking and laughing, I had a sudden twinge of regret. They were experiencing something I would never have the opportunity to experience. My life was all about the ice. It seemed like my entire life was predetermined the moment I first set foot in a hockey rink and showed so much promise. I knew I was destined to play pro hockey and that had been my focus since I was a kid. 

Not that college was ever an option anyway. I barely made it through high school. I was smart enough to get good grades but my life was so fucked up that I only made it to school occasionally and when I did, I was usually so far behind, it wasn’t worth trying to catch up. I finally ended up earning a GED instead of a diploma.

I spotted two blondes with big tits headed right in our dire
ction.
That didn’t take long
, I thought. Less than two minutes. It could have been a record.

One blonde with big blue eyes got extremely close to me. She smelled like stale cigarettes and beer, a real turn off. She was teetering in her stiletto heels, probably due to one too many of those beers.

“Want to buy me a drink?” she asked. I could see she was trying really hard not to slur her speech, overcompensating.

“Haven’t you had enough already?” I asked even though it wasn’t really a question. I had no intention of buying her a drink or anything else. I never took girls
home when they were loaded.
Full consent
was something I took very seriously.

I glanced over at Runt and the other, shorter blonde was whispering something in his ear. Apparently he liked whatever she was saying because his eyebrows shot up and he grinned.

“Maybe you’ll give me a sip of yours then?” The blue-eyed blonde was now so close, I could feel her stale breath on my neck.

“I don’t think so.” I tried to step away from her but she grabbed my arm to steady herself.

“I thought you guys liked to party,” the blonde said. She looked confused, like she couldn’t believe she wasn’t getting her way. She could have been a beautiful girl if she wasn’t trying so hard to be sexy. Her skirt was a little too tight and a few inches too short. Her blouse was open to her belly button and her tits were practically spilling out of it. And her make-up almost made her look like a drag queen. It didn’t help that she was stumbling all over me. Half of me wanted to step just far enough away for her to fall to the floor.

Runt leaned over to me and said, “I think we’re
gonna take off.”

“You work fast.”

“I guess I’ve just got it,” he snickered.
And it has nothing to do with being on the Firestorm
, I wanted to say. Runt wasn’t a bad looking guy but he definitely got a few notches more attractive when girls figured out he played professional hockey.

“What about
Sheree?” I asked just to give him shit.

“Variety is the spice of life,” he mused as he grabbed the short blonde’s hand and dragged her out of the bar.

“I guess that just leaves the two of us,” the blonde at my side said as she moved her hand up my arm, trying to be seductive.

“
It’s not gonna happen,” I said matter-of-factly.

She looked completely shocked, like I had just slapped her.
“Why not?”

“Can I just say you’re not my type and leave it at that?” I didn’t want to completely and totally hurt her feelings although I felt like I was already halfway down that road anyway.

“Whatever,” she shot back. “You seem like an asshole anyway.”

She turned her back on me and marched away, barely keeping her balance in her high heels.

I shook my head and glanced around the club. Runt was right about one thing: the kids who frequented this place were loaded. Most of them were wearing top notch designer clothes and sporting hundred dollar haircuts. I grew up dirt poor, lucky to have second hand clothes from the donation bin and the occasional coupon-day haircut at Super Cuts. Even now, I didn’t like to waste money even though I was earning good coin. I knew there was a big chance my hockey career could be cut short, so I saved as much as I could for my future, which I hoped would someday be a sports bar, if I saved enough and was smart with investing.

As I glanced around the bar at the sea of perfect young faces, I spotted a girl sitting by herself at a small table in the corner. She was looking in my direction but when our eyes met, she quickly looked down and started reading a book.

What the hell?

Who reads a book in a bar, I wondered. I was intrigued.

The first thing I noticed about her was her beautiful wavy brown hair. The long waves were tucked behind her ears, which were decorated with a single pink pearl in each center. She was wearing a flowered blouse tied over a black tank top and a long black skirt. It was such an odd outfit to be wearing at a bar. She looked like she was ready for a stroll through a museum or art gallery. Most girls at bars tried to show as much skin and body parts as humanly possible. They left little to the imagination. But this girl had her arms and legs completely covered.

I could tell she was different and I wanted to know why.

I tipped back the rest of my beer, put the empty glass on the bar and made my way over to the girl. I just couldn’t get over the fact she was reading a book in a bar. It was such a strange sight. As I got closer, I noticed the book was a lot thicker than I initially thought. A textbook? Who studies at a bar?

She didn’t even have a drink in front of her. She was just i
ntent on reading her book.

I stood next to her table and cleared my throat to get her a
ttention. When she glanced up at me, her expression was neutral.

“Hey,” I said and gave her a quick smile.

She just stared at me. I have to admit, it kind of freaked me out. I was used to girls doing most of the work. Usually all I had to do was decide if I wanted to take them home or not.

Her
hazel brown eyes were completely captivating. I felt like I was swimming in the deep end of two delicious pools. I gulped and suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. The girl made me nervous and I never got nervous. All I could do was stare into her beautiful brown eyes.

“What do you want?” she said finally. The question wasn’t mean; it was like she was really curious why I was standing there.

“I was just wondering what you were reading.” As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I sounded like a complete asshole.

And why was I second guessing myself? That was not
like me at all. From the time I was fourteen, and started to really show off on the ice, girls dropped their panties for me with little more than a wink and a winning smile on my part.

But this girl was different. When
she looked at me, it was like she was looking right through me, like she could see into every part of my mind and soul. And that scared the hell out of me because there was a lot of shit going on in there that I never wanted anyone to see.

She tilted the book up so I could see the cover. “It’s
The Writings of William James
,” she said. “Some people consider him the father of modern psychology.”

I nodded as if it made all the sense in the world but I didn’t have a
freakin’ clue what she was talking about.

“Is that all?” she asked. She pointed to her book. “I’m kind of busy.”

“Can I buy you a drink?’” I blurted and immediately regretted it. It sounded stupid after she had just told me she was busy. But there was something about this girl that completely fascinated me and I needed to know more about her.

She shook her head. “I’m not drinking tonight and I don’t accept drinks from strangers anyway.”

“Oh, I’m not like that,” I said. “I would never—” I realized how dumb it sounded. If some sick asshole was going mess with her drink, he certainly wouldn’t tell her.

“I’m sure you’re not,” she replied. “But I really need to
get back to this.” She pointed to her book again.

I knew it was my cue to leave. She was completely blowing me off but I just couldn’t go. I was quickly becoming obsessed with this beautiful brown-eyed girl I barely even knew.

“Why are you studying in a bar?” I asked. I held my breath hoping she wouldn’t completely dismiss me.

She sighed then looked up at me, giving me her full attention. “We’re conducting an experiment. I’m a psychology major and I also work in the department lab as a research assistant. We’re trying to figure out how much information I can retain studying in a noisy bar.”

I nodded, although I had to admit the only thought going through my head was who she meant by we. It didn’t take me long to find out. A lanky guy with a dull-looking pie face approached the table.

“Is everything okay,
Tay?” he asked as he glared at me.

“He was just curious why I was studying in a bar,” she r
eplied. “No biggie.”

The lanky guy shot me another look then sat down next to her. There was no way the lanky guy was her boyfriend, was there? It didn’t seem possible. She was like a hard nine and he looked like a reject
that had been thrown from the ugly truck.

“We’re kind of busy,” the lanky guy said. It was obvious from his tone that he wanted me to take off but I stood my ground.

I caught the brown-eyed girl’s gaze as she looked at me with a curious expression as if she was trying to figure out what planet I was from and why I was so intent on talking to her.

“I’m
Kian,” I said and put out my hand.

She stared at my outstretched palm for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure whether to take it. It made me wonder if she thought I had some kind of disease or something.

“That’s an unusual name,” she said as she placed her delicate hand in mine. It seemed so small inside my giant mitt. I was almost afraid I would crush it. She was a petite girl, maybe 5-feet 4-inches max, and probably not much over 110 pounds.