Hooked by Love (Bellevue Bullies #3) Read online

  The way his face changes from smug to shocked to scared, ending in anger is almost comical. Standing up, he glares, his words coming out as venom as he seethes, “She’s a bitch.”

  I move toward him, glaring too, my shoulders back, and my blood bubbling in my skin. “Watch your mouth before your teeth end up on this ice.”

  “Whatever, dude. You can’t touch me—not when so many scouts are here. You might be dumb, but I doubt you want to ruin your career. Well, wait… You kinda are by being with that cunt of a sister of mine.”

  He’s right, people are watching, but that doesn’t stop me from cross-checking him in the chest, my stick knocking him to the ground. Markus is there within seconds, pushing me back. As calmly as I can manage, I say, “You can talk all you want on the ice, you little fucking bitch. But off the ice, say it again and see what happens. You won’t speak badly of her in front of me. Not the woman I love.”

  “I’m not scared of you,” he laughs, standing up. “You think I care about you or who you are?”

  I shrug. “I’m surprised, since I’m a dude and all.” His eyes widen as Markus looks confused, but I shake my head. “Watch yourself, Haverbrooke.”

  He gives me a quick nod. “You too, Sinclair.”

  Skating away, I fix my gloves as Markus looks over at me. “This is going to be a shitshow, isn’t it?”

  I shrug. “Maybe. Just watch my back.”

  “No problem,” he says as he sends the puck over to me, and I feel Matty watching me. Looking back, I see he is while he skates around, his eyes full of hate. He may think he scares me, but he doesn’t.

  And that doesn’t change once the game starts. Since we are both star players, we almost always play at the same time. I had forgotten how fast he is.

  But I’m faster.

  Rushing for the puck that Boston’s defense lost, I send it over to Markus just as Matty comes crashing into me, his shoulder hitting mine. But I push back into him, knocking him the other way, before I zoom up the ice, trailing behind Markus and Gordon as they crash the net, shooting one after the other. Going to the front of the goal, I watch as my teammates pass the puck back and forth. Boston is trying to steal as Matty comes right for me, putting his hip into mine, trying to get me out of the way. But I’m not going anywhere. While I push into him, Markus tries a wrist shot but it doesn’t go in, coming right on my stick. But when I shoot, Matty’s stick comes down hard on mine, snapping it in two.

  “Fucker!” I yell, pushing into him before looking at the ref for a call, but nothing comes as the goalie covers the puck and the whistle is blown. “He broke my stick!”

  “Aw, you gonna cry? Hope you have another one. Or are you broke ’cause you have a wife and a baby and my dad cut y’all off?” Matty sings, and when some of his teammates laugh, I’m confused.

  “How is that funny, you douche? Especially when it’s your sister who’s my wife. Get your life together, fucker,” I sneer.

  “It’s funny ’cause you’ll fuck up, you will, and she’ll off herself. She has tried before.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Markus yells and I shake my head. “You are a piece of shit, you know that?”

  Matty laughs. “You don’t know her like I do. She’s pathetic.”

  “She’s your sister,” I yell. I mean, I knew he was a dick to her, but really? This is the person she is forced to call her brother? What a fucking asshole, and I’m not sure I’m going to make it through this game without killing the dude.

  “That’s enough, boys!”

  “She’s a waste of space, believe me.” His eyes are so serious, so full of hate, and it really just hurts me. Who can hate a person that they share blood with so much? It’s insane and sad.

  Shaking my head, I pin him with a look. “She is the best thing to ever happen to me—”

  “Then you need to reevaluate your life.”

  “Dude, Matty, that’s enough,” someone says, pressing him in the chest, but he knocks his hand away as the ref pushes me back. All I can do is look into his eyes as I shake my head. When I skate back to the bench for another stick, Coach is glaring.

  “Don’t let him in your head, Sinclair,” Coach yells and I wave him off.

  Not going to happen.

  But it’s hard. Especially when he is on me like white on rice. It’s like he has set out to break me, and it’s really trying my patience. The game is tough—no one scores in the first or even the second, which is unusual for us. But their goalie is badass and blocks all thirty-three shots he’s been faced with. Ours is kicking ass too, but I want a goal. Hell, I don’t care who scores as long as we beat these fuckers. As long as we beat Matty.

  When we hit the ice for the third, my eyes are on the prize, but Matty is relentless.

  “Do you know how easy it was for her to do it? It only took a couple days before she tried. She’s weak, pathetic.”

  Shaking my head, I try to ignore him as Markus yells, “Shut the fuck up. Play the game.”

  “Aw, gotta have your friends stand up for you? How are you going to stand up for that wife of yours?”

  My jaw clenches as I win the puck, sending it to Markus. But to my surprise, Matty zips by me, stealing it and heading down the ice. I’m on him, though, trying to poke the puck away, but he throws his hip into mine, sending me face first into the ice. Getting up, I’m too late, and he’s scored. Shaking my head, I slam my stick to the ice. I don’t know why I’m letting him get to me. I’m making mistakes. I’m pushing too hard into him instead of sticking to my game.

  Fuck!

  But it’s hard. I don’t like what he is saying because those are concerns I have for Avery. I don’t ever want her to feel the desperation she did. But man, I understand it a little better now after being on the ice with this bitch. Still, though, I’m shaking with anger and I can feel Avery watching me. I don’t know what to do, but I’m ten seconds away from ruining this dude’s life.

  Coach is yelling at me, but I don’t listen as I go to sit down. Leaning against the boards, I watch as my boys rush down the ice, throwing shot after shot at the goalie, but he isn’t letting anything by him. Frustrated, Elliot hooks a Boston player and ends up in the box like a damn dumbass. When the tap comes for me, I jump over the boards and rush onto the ice after they clear it. But before I can even get the puck, we are called for being offside. Bullshit.

  Setting up for the puck drop, I win it, sending it to Markus. And instead of clearing it, we rush their zone. He fakes, sends it over to me, but the goalie has read that, so I deke quickly, picking the puck up on my blade and sending it over his left leg pad. I throw my arms up, and my boys wrap me up in a hug as the crowd loses it. God, that felt good! Looking back at where Matty is screaming at the goalie, I shake my head.

  Douche.

  Going off the ice, I watch as the Bullies win the puck and go back into Boston’s zone, but someone steals it, racing back. It goes like that for the next two minutes. Getting on the ice when my line is up, I look down to see Elliot with the puck.

  “Go!” he screams at me before sending it up, and I do as he says, Gordon at my left. Taking the puck, we enter the zone and I drop it back to Elliot, getting in position to not only block the goalie but also hoping for a rebound or something. But it won’t come easily, especially when Matty and I are jousting back and forth. He gets in front of me, and then behind me, trying to push me away. But I ignore him, my eyes on the puck as my boys try to keep it away from Boston. When Markus shoots, he misses and it goes back to Gordon, who sends it back to the new line of defensemen. One of them takes a shot, but it goes to the left, where no one is. Rushing to it, I beat Matty, sending it to the slot where, thank God, Markus is waiting. And in over the shoulder of the goalie it goes.

  Throwing my arms up, I go to congratulate Markus, but Matty hooks me around my ankle and I crash to the ground. The cage of my helmet hits the ice hard, causing my head to jerk forward, but not crashing forward like I could have. Getting up, I go for h