“I’m warning you, if you try to sell even one item, I will personally see to it your career is over. You won’t even be able to ride a bus in the minors.”
Nick’s laugh had a desperate ring. “You don’t have that kind of influence.”
“You’d be surprised how quickly I could spread the word. Guys get mad when they think someone is taking advantage. Do you really want to be the target of their anger?”
Jake’s words hung menacingly in the air.
Nick swore. “Fine. You want his stuff so badly, you come and collect it. You’ve got one week. After that, everything goes in the nearest Dumpster.”
The last thing Jake wanted was to have to deal with Adam’s things. He didn’t need to be reminded that he was a pale shadow of the man his friend had been. He sure as hell didn’t need to be reminded of how he’d let Adam down.
It had been bad enough living in Chicago, surrounded by memories of coming up from the minors together, being drafted together, winning and losing together. Since he’d moved home, he’d finally begun to come to terms with what had happened. Not a day passed that he didn’t remember and regret, but he’d managed some semblance of peace.
Nick’s demand had shattered that fragile peace and ripped open still-raw wounds.
Jake had no choice. He owed Adam that much. “You make damn sure everything is still there—every last sock, button and scrap of paper. Screw with me and you’ll regret it.”
He hung up and jammed his cell into the front pocket of his jeans, then smacked the flat of his hand against his M-Class.
Damn Nick. Jake had never understood why Nick and Adam had been so close. Adam was a good, honest, hardworking guy. Nick took shortcuts, looked for the easy way. This was a new low.
Jake scrubbed his hand over his jaw and tried to calm his anger.
A flutter of pink reminded him Maggie was here. He forced himself to shove the problem to the back of his mind—he didn’t want to spoil the afternoon.
The thought of huddling around Mimi’s computer, the warmth of Maggie’s soft skin so close, was enough to make his pulse pound with frustration of a different kind.
Where would the buttons be today? His groin tightened as he recalled yesterday’s Chinese-style gray dress. The knotted silk buttons had started at the base of her throat and trailed their way across her left breast. Enough!
He turned toward Maggie.
What the hell...?
She stood by the door to the building, staring at him, her hand across her mouth. Her ashen skin made her brown eyes look even darker.
She looked scared.
Confused, he stepped toward her.
He halted abruptly when she pressed herself against the door.
“Maggie?”
Her lips trembled, even as her chin tilted defiantly.
What was her problem? Like a slow-mo replay, he reviewed the past few minutes—his anger, his threats, his actions—then swore silently, as he realized Maggie was scared.
Of him.
She probably believed that clichéd crap about hockey players being violent because they played a physical game. Sure, he’d fought off the ice in the past, but only because some knucklehead had thrown a punch to prove how tough he was. Jake hadn’t fought in anger since he was a kid. And he’d never, ever, hit a woman.
Maggie wouldn’t know that. He had to put her at ease. Slowly, he raised his hands, palm out, to show he meant no harm.
“Are you okay?” He kept his voice calm and low.
She stilled, nodding sharply. Her dark brown eyes never left him.
Perhaps he should explain. “That was a former teammate on the Blackhawks—Nick. He used to share an apartment with Adam. I guess you know I was injured in a car accident?”
She nodded again, watching him warily.
“My friend Adam...it was Adam’s car. He was driving. He lost control and—” he coughed to clear the lump in his throat “—was killed.”
The bald statement left a bitter taste, but Maggie didn’t need to know about Adam’s weird behavior on that drive. His trembling fingers on the gearshift, the sweat beading on his forehead. How he’d veered between moods as wildly as he’d swerved between lanes.
She also didn’t need to know Jake had deliberately ignored the signs Adam was troubled because he’d cared more about getting to the party than finding out what was wrong.
Maggie’s expression softened slightly. The sadness in her eyes hardened his emotions. Jake didn’t want, or deserve, her sympathy.
He stepped closer. Her body remained tense but she didn’t flinch.
“Nick’s been traded to L.A.” He quickly explained the bastard’s demands to Maggie. “With house-hunting and training camp about to start, the timing sucks. But I have to rescue Adam’s stuff.”