Crashing the Net (2 page)

The kid was covered in bruises.

“Did we do that to you?” he demanded, picturing how the team had pounded on him.

Mike jumped, almost losing his footing on the wet tiles. He slapped a hand on the wall to steady himself. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

Alexei looked away from red-rimmed eyes and instead tried very hard not to notice how tempting Mike’s long frame and whipcord muscles were, in spite of the colorful array of reds and purples blanketing him.

“Did we do that?” he asked again, gesturing to a particularly vivid patch of blue on Mike’s shoulder. Right where Alexei had punched him. But not
that
hard. “Do you bruise super fucking easily or something?”

“What? No. I play hockey, for Christ’s sake.”

“I’ve seen a lot of hockey players naked, and none of them looked like this!”

Mike blinked water from his eyes and looked at Alexei like he was crazy.

Okay, so that really hadn’t come out the way Alexei had meant it to.

Mike spared Alexei having to explain by turning away and ducking his head back under the shower. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Looking for you.”
Looking
at
you
. Alexei let his gaze follow the streams of water down the long, lean back.
Man,
that ass was spectacular.

So…
biteable
.

Then he saw a distinctly boot-shaped bruise on the back of the kid’s thigh. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It sure as hell is
something
.”

“No. It’s not.” He turned, his hands planted on his hips, his scowl fierce. “Not to you.”

Alexei’s brain went completely blank when he noticed Mike’s junk was waxed clean.

Alexei went back to glaring at Mike’s
face.
“Did you deserve it?”

“What?”

He indicated the bruises running down his ribs. “Were you an asshole? Did you start it?”

“
No
.”

Alexei believed him, if only because he sounded so offended.

“Then why did they do it?” Because no way just one person did that much damage.

“If I had any idea who the fuck they were, maybe I’d ask them.”

Alexei’s mouth went dry and for a moment he forgot about the fact that Mike was still standing there, stark naked, without a lick of modesty. “You were attacked by strangers?”

“Yeah, of course. Seriously, who do you even hang out with? I got jumped, okay?”

“When?”

“Last night. Look. Forget I said anything.”

“But—”

“No. I don’t even know why I told you that much.” He turned to shut off the water, muttering under his breath, “I should have just made some shit up.”

Alexei didn’t move, forcing Mike to look up when he couldn’t get around Alexei.

“You can trust me,” Alexei said, as surprised by his earnest declaration as Mike appeared to be. Probably way
more
surprised than Mike.

“Okay,” Mike said slowly. “Thank you. I’ll bear that in mind. But for now, at least, can we please drop it?”

Alexei barely knew the guy, and it wasn’t any of his business, but he didn’t
want
to let it go. It fucking rankled, but he gave in, for now. “Fine.”

Mike’s shoulders slumped. “Thank you.”

Alexei took a few head-clearing steps away, grabbed the towel from its hook, and tossed it to Mike. “Come on. I’ll drive you to Smitty’s.”

“That’s not necessary,” Mike said, his voice muffled as he scrubbed his hair dry.

Alexei tried not to look too much, but it was fucking hard. He didn’t breathe normally again until Mike wrapped the towel around his waist. He’d spent his entire life in locker rooms and never had this problem before. He took several more head-clearing steps back toward the locker room, but Mike followed.

“I don’t think I’m going to make it out tonight. I’m not much for company, anyway.”

Funny, Alexei wasn’t feeling particularly social anymore, either. “I’ll drive you home, then.”

“Thanks, but I have a car.”

“Need directions?” he asked, as if everyone didn’t rely on GPS these days. What the fuck was the matter with him?

“No, I’m good. I’m crashing at the Fairmont Motel around the corner for a few days while I look for a place to live.”

Alexei shuddered. “You’ll get crabs.”

“Sorry, what?”

“You’ll get crabs. From the sheets. You know, itchy things in your—”

“
Oookay!
Got it. Thanks for the warning.”

“You can stay with me.” Alexei honestly couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Mike looked as alarmed as Alexei felt. “No, thank you. I appreciate—”

“Yes. I have a guest room. It will be fine.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as Mike. Which he was. Jesus Christ. This wasn’t his thing. Garrick was the one who acted like some goddamn goodwill ambassador to anyone new in town. Alexei was the one who dumped lube on their heads by way of a greeting. That was how it was supposed to work.

Mike shook his head. “Really, I don’t want to impose. Thank you anyway, though.”

Damn kid was stubborn. Why did that make Alexei want to smile?

“I insist. I can help you find an apartment tomorrow. I know a place. Clean. Decent rent.”
Safe.

“Thanks, really, but my budget is probably too small for anything you have in mind.”

Alexei knew roughly how much Mike was making, but he didn’t ask where the money was going. Not his business. “This building will work. Now, come on. I still want a beer, even if it’s at my place.”

Mike hesitated. “You sure?”

The only thing Alexei was sure of was that he’d lost his damn mind. Even as he was nodding and telling Mike he was more than welcome, Alexei was calculating how to get Mike’s enticing ass back out of his apartment as quickly as possible.

Mike sat in the cab of Alexei’s gigantic pickup truck, trying to make sense of the deserted warehouse looming above of them. He thought Alexei had been taking them to Alexei’s home, but he’d driven them here. Now, large steel doors slowly parted to reveal a huge, barren cavern, lit only by their headlights.

Alexei drove inside, parked and hit the remote to close the doors behind them. He plucked a foot-long Maglite from his glove box and jumped from his truck.

“Come on.”

Mike grabbed his bag and chased the beam of Alexei’s flashlight to the back corner of the building and an ancient industrial elevator that could easily have fit Mike’s mid-sized Toyota inside.

“Where the hell are we going?”

Alexei laughed. “You’ll see.”

At least the lift had a light. That was about all it had going for it, though. It rattled and swayed alarmingly as it delivered them up to the fourth floor. Mike had to focus on not squeaking like a little girl with every jolt. Finally, they came to a stop and Alexei pried open the enormous doors.

Mike stared down a long hallway made of partially finished walls draped in plastic tarps, illuminated by bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

What the fuck is this place?

Every horror movie Mike had ever watched replayed in his head. It was surely a coincidence that the psycho killer in those Halloween movies wore a goalie mask, right?

He trailed Alexei down the hallway, painfully aware that he was the new guy in town who’d stupidly followed a man he didn’t know right to his lair. And no one knew where he was. Or who he was with. Surely Alexei wouldn’t carve him up into little pieces and leave the Ice Cats’ defense down a man. Right?

They arrived at a wide, steel door.

The kind you could claw at for months and never get out.

“This is my house,” Alexei announced. He threw the heavy door open and all Mike’s worries over his pending demise disappeared.

Before him was a huge kitchen, gleaming with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances, including a stove that somehow suited the name emblazoned across the front—
Viking
. A wall of windows looked out across the city streets to the river and reflected the light of the funky fixtures above the kitchen table and counters—all suspended from the heavy steel girders holding up the twenty-foot ceiling above.

To the right was the living room, vaguely separated from the dining room by the enormous sectional couch and the sheer amount of space around the enormous table. Reading lamps, wood floors, and area rugs made what should have been a harsh, industrial space welcoming.

“Come on, I’ll show you where to throw your stuff,” Alexei said.

Mike snapped his mouth shut—how long had he been standing there with it hanging open?—and followed Alexei down a hallway. They walked past an office, a bathroom with a cool glass-block shower, a bedroom with a gigantic bed that Mike wasn’t going to think about again—much—and on to a smaller bedroom.

“You can crash here.”

Mike dropped his bag. “Thanks. This place is great.”

“Thank you,” Alexei said with a smile. “I just moved in.”

Mike wanted to ask how Alexei had found such a bizarre and amazing home, but didn’t want to seem rude or nosey. Mike was definitely going to have to apartment hunt on his own, though, because if this was what Alexei was used to, the place he had in mind for Mike would probably be way outside his budget.

Alexei walked back to the kitchen and went straight for the fridge. He needed a beer.

Grabbing two, he opened them both and plunked one down on the counter. “Here. Just don’t tell the cops I’m corrupting a minor.”

Mike stopped gaping at the stove and shot Alexei a dirty look. “I’m twenty-two.”

Ten years younger than Alexei. “All right, kid. Then there’s your beer. You had supper?”

“No, the nursery only gave me a bottle and some gruel before they sent me to the arena.”

Alexei stuck his head back into the fridge and smirked. The kid had some grit.

“How about an omelette?”

“Uh…sure.”

Alexei looked over his shoulder. “You could try to sound less surprised that I know how to cook.”

“I just figured it must have been tough to learn when you were young. What with dinosaur eggs being so big and all.”

Alexei laughed. Definitely some grit. He grabbed the ingredients he needed to make dinner and put it all on the island. He shoved the peppers, a knife and a cutting board at Mike. “Here, chop these. Then you can set the table.”

“Okay, Dad.”

Alexei barely suppressed a shudder. “
Don’t
call me that.” His eyes dipped to where Mike’s T-shirt clung to his flat belly and tight abs. Alexei wasn’t feeling in the least bit paternal.

“Sorry,” Mike said, his laughter gone.

Shit, now he had that sad-eye thing going again. Alexei fucking hated it. He yanked out the drawer full of his cast-iron pans and it squealed in protest.

Alexei got an idea. Wiping the smirk from his face, he turned to his houseguest. “Hey, can you come here a minute?”

Mike put down his knife and circled the counter. “Yeah?”

“This drawer is squeaking.”

Mike hesitated at his side. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

Alexei grabbed the taller man in a headlock and dug his fingers behind Mike’s ears.

“What the hell are you
doing
?” Mike protested, shoving at him before standing up all the way and almost lifting him off his feet.

Alexei held on for all he was worth. The kid was
strong
. “Hold still. I need some lube. I bet you’ve still got some back here somewhere.”

Mike’s laughter echoed off the high ceilings. “Yeah, and whose fault would that be, Belov?”

Alexei grinned. “Yours, newbie.”

Mike woke up the next morning and couldn’t remember where the hell he was. Not that this was anything new. He’d been traveling with one team or another for years, and waking up in bizarre hotel rooms was pretty standard.

But this didn’t look like a hotel room. And he swore he smelled someone cooking French toast.

Then he remembered.

Alexei
.

Mike flopped onto his back and scrubbed his hands through his hair, trying not to conjure up an image of his host, nor vividly recall the night they’d spent on his couch drinking beer, watching hockey, and just shooting the shit. At some point, Alexei had stretched his arm out along the tall cushions, just to get comfortable, and Mike had fought the urge to lean into the long curve of his body, acutely aware of how big the couch was and how he’d chosen to sit right next to Alexei.

He could only assume Alexei was being polite when, after getting them another round, he’d returned to the same spot instead of choosing a more appropriate seat on the other side of the sectional.

Mike huffed and sat up in bed, glaring balefully down at his stubbornly enthusiastic morning wood, willing it to subside.

It took a while and a focused and detailed mental review of the childbirth video he’d been forced to watch in eighth grade biology class.

Worked every time.

Jumping from the bed, he threw on his clothes and followed the amazing smells to the kitchen.

He found his host standing at the stove, his bare back to the door. Flannel pajama bottoms barely clung to his hips and the smooth swell of his ass. Mike stared hungrily at the twin dimples hovering on either side of Alexei’s spine, forgetting to breathe until his lungs seized up and he made a small choking sound.

Alexei turned.

“Good morning,” Mike gasped, hoping like hell his voice sounded just-woken-up scratchy and not like he’d swallowed his tongue. Because
damn
, the view from the front was even better.

“Good morning.” The rough timbre of Alexei’s voice rubbed over Mike’s skin, making the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

This was
so bad.
He needed to get a handle on himself.

Mike had known since the first blush of puberty that he was gay. When the guys had started talking about girls, he’d still been thinking about the guys. And from there it had only gotten more obvious.

To him, anyway. Everyone else just saw a hockey player. Which, apparently, meant “straight guy.”