AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We Didn’t Start the Riots
Casey
Vancouver doesn’t sweep Boston. We battle it out for all seven possible games but get our asses handed to us. At least Sutter and I get to play in those games. Vancouver loses the series. Riots rage again. Milton was right. And, fuck, it so does not help my case because it could be argued that Sutter and I were the inspiration for the riots. It wouldn’t be true, but it doesn’t matter what’s true. It matters what people believe and therefore what the team managers and owners believe.
Sutter and I enter a boardroom that I expected to be full of suits, but it’s empty save for Milton, who shifts uncomfortably at the sight of Sutter.
I was asked to come alone, but Sutter said, and I quote, “Fuck that.” His big bad protective instincts rose up when I said I’d be fine, and I ate that shit up. He squeezes my hand before releasing it and pulls out a tall-backed rolling chair for me. Do Ilook as nervous as I feel? Because fuck are my nerves fried, heart pulsing too fast. Is it cold in here? Why am I shivering?
Sutter takes a seat next to me and grips my hand. He’s totally letting Milton know that if he fucks with me, he fucks with him.
So hot.
But it’s not just hot. The warm sensation of love seeps into my bones. I love having him on my side. He does this kind of thing for me, and I protect him in other ways.
“I’m sorry I had to do this, Casey. You’re a nice kid, but you don’t listen.”
“Shut the fuck up, Milton,” Sutter says.
“I was right. You can’t deny that I was right. Look at what happened!” He lays his trusty iPad on the table, displaying the first headline:Vancouver Scores the Riot Hattrick.
Huh. Kinda clever. There were the riots of 1994, 2011, and now this season.
“Vancouverites are insane about hockey and poor losers. This would have happened regardless. You’re not blaming us for this,” Sutter says.
I don’t like Sutter calling us poor losers, but I guess he’s a Vancouverite, too, so he can have his opinion. I would call us passionate.
“Rumor has it, the owner’s been getting calls from the mayor about this. The damage is done. The money people have lost. People were in the hospital. This could go provincial due to the already heavy strain on our healthcare system.”
Could it?I look to Sutter. He shakes his head, rolling his eyes.
There’s an ear-deafening bang. The door to the conference room bursts open. A handsome young man in a suit storms in, red-faced and nostrils flaring. Oh shit. Is that the owner? Is he this mad because of me?
Milton’s eyes widen. “You’re not?—”
“My father? No. But I am the new guy running the place. Edward Arovini.”
I know who that is. The first-born son of the Arovini family. They own the Vancouver Orcas. Mercy Meyer—Jack’s man—and Eddie were childhood best friends. Has he taken over from his father?
We don’t get to recover from that blow. Another dark figure barrels his way into the room, but this one I know. Everyone in Vancouver knows who he is unless you live under a rock on Wreck Beach: Maxwell Elkington, Mayor of Vancouver. Also known as Rhett’s asshole dad. Or hot evil villain dad. Take your pick.
“I wasn’t finished talking to you,” Maxwell says, straightening out his suit.
“Hmm, talking, eh? Is that what you’re calling what you did to me back there?” Eddie wipes off his lips with the back of his blazer sleeve, glaring murder at him.
Whoa. What kinda drama do we got goin’ on here?
Milton’s looking between the two of them, and I think he’s decided he’s fucked. I’m getting the impression that he doesn’t know Eddie as well as he knew Edward Senior.
Maxwell crosses his arms, waiting, refusing to go anywhere. God, he looks so much like an older version of Rhett, it’s eerie.
Eddie huffs. “Fine, stay, go. I don’t give a fuck at this point. Milton, I’ll be taking over officially for my father from here on out. It’ll be announced soon, but he’s had a heart attack. Thank God he’s still alive, but he’s retiring—effective immediately.”
Milton’s speechless. Sutter squeezes my hand. Maxwell appears to have already been privy to this information. Maybe that’s what they were kissing about? I know I’d want Sutter to kiss me if I needed to feel better.
He leans over, kissing me on the cheek as if he just read my mind.
“Fucking love you, kitten,” he murmurs.
