Chapter 29
Gemma
I had convinced myselfa public place was safer than sitting at home waiting for a hitman to find me. I was under no illusion that my father would deign to dirty his hands and carry out the job himself. He might act like a big man, but he was a coward.
But even with my mental chanting that they’d never risk taking me out where there were tens of thousands of civilians who could be caught in the crossfire, my heart raced, and my gaze darted around, eyeing each person I passed with suspicion.
I found my seat during the point between the main on-ice warmup for the teams and the national anthem. Sasha had secured me the same one as the last game I’d attended, right behind the net where he would be positioned during the first and third periods.
As much as I wanted a drink to settle my anxiety, I needed to remain on high alert at all times. The minute I let my guard down was when the strike would happen.
“Gemma!” A breathless voice cried over the steady rumble of chatter surrounding me.
Scanning for the source, I turned to find Bristol waving both arms over her head, standing in the aisle.
Mumbling words of thanks to those who stood from their seats so I could pass, I reached the pink-cheeked pregnant redhead, exclaiming, “Bristol! You’re pregnant!”
She blew out a heavy breath, which lifted the hair away from her face. “Why does everyone keep pointing that out like I don’t know?”
“Sorry,” I apologized in a rush, having been witness to her hormonal mood swings and not wanting to make myself a target of them. “What are you doing down here?”
The concern in her blue eyes had the hairs on the back of my neck raising before she said the words that would shift my world on its axis. “Goose never made it to the rink.”
Blood rushed in my ears. “What?”
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I whipped it out, praying it was Sasha.
Any hope I had died when I saw the text preview on my lock screen.
Unknown Number:Did you really think the life I took as payment would be yours?
“Gemma?” Bristol’s voice sounded distant, like she was at the far end of a tunnel. “Gemma, what’s wrong?”
Her hand gripping my arm brought me back to reality.
“We tried calling him, but—”
“I need his address,” I cut her off.
Her brow furrowed, and her lips turned down. “You don’t have his address?”
There wasn’t time for explanations; every second wasted could be the difference between life and death for Sasha.
“Address, Bristol. Now!”
The tiniest yelp left her lips at my harsh tone, but her shaky hands reached for the hidden pocket of her dress. Producing a phone, she tapped on the screen, turning it around so I could see the address attached to Sasha’s contact information. I took a quick pic and bolted up the concrete steps, praying it wasn’t too late.
Flying down the freeway, following the GPS instructions to Sasha’s house, I hit dial on my phone, the ringing coming through the speakers of my car.
The line connected. “Gem—”
“I swear to God, if you had anything to do with this, I will kill you with my bare hands!” I screamed, rage taking over as I weaved in and out of traffic toward suburban Indianapolis.
Enzo paused before speaking. “Gemma, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You better not,” I gritted out.
“What’s going on?”
