Dump and Chase: Nashville Assassins: Next Generation Read online

  We went at it all night in the dark, and I regret that. I wish I had turned on the lights. I want to look at her, admire her. I was pretty far gone last night. With the NHL All-Star break, I’m able to let loose, have some fun. It’s the first time I regret not being sober when I had sex. I feel like I didn’t give her all that I could, but she seems pretty satisfied.

  Fuck, I know I am.

  I wonder if I can convince her not to leave. To stay for the day. I don’t have anything to do, and I wouldn’t mind rounds six and seven with her. Maybe make it to round ten. I owe Chris for this one. He never disappoints. He brings me some really great girls who keep quiet about our time together, but he went above and beyond with her. As much as I hate depending on someone else to get me a girl, I can’t trust myself to pick them. Seems every girl I find and fuck tries to screw me over. Wants me to fall in love, take my money, and make me theirs. When I refuse, they come up with some bullshit story and go to the media. I love to fuck, don’t get me wrong, but I always make sure to respect the girl. I don’t do anything they don’t want to do, yet I’ve been pegged as some kind of womanizer. Hence the reason I have to depend on a friend to bring me someone to fuck. I refuse to allow another woman to make more fucked-up allegations. I refuse to embarrass my mom and dad any more than I already have.

  I don’t know why I’m thinking of that when I have this spectacular beauty in my arms. I kiss the side of her boob and then her ribs. Just as I’m about to run my tongue across her ribs, I notice her ink. I pull my brows together when I realize it’s the Nashville Assassins logo. The Assassin with the skyline of Nashville on his shoulders. It’s the old-school logo, the one my dad wore for most of his career. I’m a bit taken aback by it. Usually, the girls I get hooked up with are Rangers fans or don’t know a stick from a puck, but she must be an Assassins fan. It’s actually kind of cool since Nashville is my hometown and I watched my dad play for them almost my whole life. His jersey hangs in the rafters of the Luther Arena. I have always dreamed of playing there professionally, but it hasn’t happened yet.

  One day.

  I kiss that spot on her body as the sun shines in on us. Just as I’m about to wake her to ask her about it, my phone starts to go off again.

  “Is that your phone?”

  I kiss the underside of her boob. “Yeah, ignore it.”

  “What time is it?” she asks, her voice raspy and sexy.

  “I don’t know. Don’t care. Please don’t move.”

  She ignores me, and when she reaches over me, I suck her nipple into my mouth. The breathy giggle that leaves her lips awakens my cock in seconds. “Shit, it’s nine. I’ve got to go. And it’s your agent.”

  She drops my phone on my chest as she untangles herself from me.

  “He can wait. Where are you going?”

  She moves quickly through the room, picking up her clothes. Her hair is still in her face, and I want to brush it aside so I can see her features. I go to get up, but she holds up her hand. “Don’t. If you get up and come anywhere near me, I won’t go. And I gotta go.”

  My mouth goes dry as I watch her dress quickly. Her body is a wonderland, and I am nowhere near done with her. As she pulls her hair up into a big messy bun, I say, “But I don’t want you to.”

  She shakes her head. “I have to.” When her eyes meet mine, I cock my head. She blows her hair out of her face and sends me a sweet grin. “I had fun.”

  I blink a few times because there is something familiar about her. “I did too. Please stay.”

  “I can’t,” she says, and she bites her lip. “Have a good life, Aiden.”

  And then she’s out the door.

  I hop out of bed and run to the door completely naked. She’s fast, and by the time I reach her, the elevator doors are closing. That sweet smile is still sitting on her lips, and fucking hell, she’s beautiful.

  “Bye.”

  What the hell just happened? Usually, I have to kick a girl out when we’re done, but she basically hightailed it out of here on her own. But that’s not the part that is bothering me the most. I think I know her. But from where? I can’t place her. Maybe she’s one of Chris’s actor friends. Maybe I’ve seen her onstage. Though, that doesn’t seem right. Weird.

  Either way, I want to see her again.

  I head back to my bedroom and reach for my phone in the sheets to see it’s ringing once more. Again with my agent. I ignore the call and notice that my mom and dad have called many times too. What the hell is going on? I should call them back. But I go to Chris’s text thread instead.

  Me: Dude, after making me wait a month, you hit the jackpot with her. Can you send me her info? I NEED to see her again.

  He doesn’t answer me back. Not even those three dots pop up, but then, it is early. When my phone starts ringing one more time, I hit answer, and the voice of my agent, Joey Brown, carries over the line.

  “What the fuck, Aiden? I’ve been calling you all morning!”

  I fall back in my bed, looking up at the ceiling as I cup my balls. “Sorry, man. Busy night and late morning.”

  “Whatever. Listen, she did it.”

  “Who?” I ask, bringing in my brows.

  “Elli Adler.”

  The name of the owner of the Assassins makes my heart stop. I have known Elli Adler for as long as I can remember. She has always been a pillar in my life. My family is close with hers, and I grew up babysitting her sons when I wasn’t watching my own siblings. She has wanted me on her team since I went into the NHL, and I want to be on her team, too. It’s my dad’s team, and I want to be just like him.

  “What about her?”

  “She offered the Rangers the Assassins’ next three draft picks and two prospects for you.” When he pauses, my heart stops. “The Rangers accepted. You’re an Assassin now.”

  My heart suddenly goes dead in my chest. Surely I’m still drunk. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. She wants you in Nashville by tomorrow. Dude, you’ve wanted this. Sound excited!”

  I am, I really am, but holy shit, I never thought this would happen. I’ve wanted to play for the Assassins since I started playing. When I was younger and my dad would take me to the rink, I would imagine I was an Assassin in my way-too-big number twenty-two Brooks jersey. I would score the winning goal in game seven for the Stanley Cup. I’ve dreamed of this my whole life, yet my thoughts are consumed by the girl who just ran out on me.

  “Aiden! What the hell? I thought you wanted this?”

  I cover my face with my hand. “I do, man. I’m shocked.”

  “It’s a great thing. You’re going home.”

  Home. I’m going home. To play for my dream team.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’ve enjoyed New York. I’ve had the best time here and made some really great friends. Problem is, New York isn’t Tennessee. It’s insanely busy, things are always moving, and I feel like I never get a chance to breathe. When I go home for holidays or the summer, I feel complete. I feel calm. I’ve been homesick for a really long time. I miss my mom and dad, my brother and sisters. I wonder if they know I’m coming back.

  I’ve loved playing for the Rangers and, before them, the Islanders. They’re great teams, but they’re not the Assassins. I didn’t grow up pretending to be a Ranger. I was always an Assassin. When I would score in high school or even college, I wouldn’t hear the Rangers’ goal song; it was always the Assassins’. Everything has always been the Assassins for me. I was bummed when I didn’t get drafted by them, but my dad insisted I go where the money was. I was the rookie. Everyone wanted me, and when people are flashing boatloads of money at you, it’s real easy to put aside that childhood dream. Especially with my dad promising that one day I would play for the Assassins. That day is now.

  I’ve been itching for a new start after everything that’s happened, and this is it. This is my new start, and by the grace of God, it’s at home. Where my love of hockey began. After having the best sex of my life, I have to say, this morning is p