Edge

Chapter 1


The crack of wood hockey sticks striking in a battle for the puck brought my senses to life. I didn’t just hear it; I tasted it on my lips and felt it deep in my gut. I’d never been in this minor league arena before, but I was home.

Two months without hockey had been harder on me than the pain of my injury. Hockey was more than a sport to me, and it was more than my livelihood. When I was on the ice, I thought more clearly. It was the place I took out my aggression, celebrated and brooded. It was a part of me.

My exhilaration at lacing skates up at a rink again was clouded by the fear in the back of my mind. Was hockey still a part of me? Or had John London taken more than the past two months from me? What if my knee buckled as soon as I got out there and I ended up flat on my back again?

“Hudson,” a warm voice called. Tanner Welch, the minor league team’s coach, was approaching, hand extended. “Great to have you.”

“Great to be here, Coach,” I said. “Practice still on?”

“We’re about done. I’ll introduce you to the guys and show you around. You can skate, too, if you want. And Dell will want to check you out.”

I nodded and slung my equipment bag over my shoulder.

“Anxious to get back out there?” Tanner asked, grinning.

“Yeah. I was hoping to practice today.”

“Plenty of time for that. Full practice tomorrow and then a game Wednesday.”

His words sent a rush of adrenaline through my body. A game. And finally – after eight weeks of watching my team play from the stands or on TV – I’d be back on the ice. It’d be with the minor league team I was rehabbing with, but that was good enough for me.

“I can’t wait,” I said.

Tanner, a lean man in a track suit with the team logo, smiled at me. I could tell he was one of those friendly, positive reinforcement kind of coaches. I didn’t have much experience with those.

“I’ve only got a few rules,” he said, turning to lead me toward the locker room. “Work your fucking ass off every day you’re on my team. I don’t tolerate slacking. If you slack, you’ll get bagged like never before. And if you bitch, you’ll get bagged again. Keep your fucking dick in your pants when it comes to anyone affiliated with this team. If I find out you fucked the owner’s daughter, came onto a team employee or so much as thought about the tits of another player’s wife, you’ll be very sorry. I don’t care how much of a superstar you are. You’re here to rehab. No fucking drama. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” He was only a few years older than me, and I made his salary many times over, but he had an air of authority. He was the boss. Good. I needed a hard ass coach to push me so I could get back to my team as soon as possible.

Tanner waved a player over, and a burly dark-haired guy skated over and stopped smoothly at the open wall on the ice, which we stood in front of.

“Luke, this is Nikola Vereshkova. You need to know what’s what from a player, he’s a good one.”

“Hey, man, it’s Niko,” the Russian said to me, his accent faint. I shook his hand, but Tanner was already heading for the locker room, so I followed.

“So how’s the knee?” the coach asked, glancing up my way.

“Great.”

He sighed lightly. “That’s what the brass said, too. But it’s important. We don’t want to push too hard or you’ll be right back where you started.”

I adjusted the bag on my shoulder again and looked straight ahead. “My knee’s good. I’ve been in physical therapy seven days a week. My game … I don’t know where the hell it’s at. But the knee’s good, and I’ll let you know if it changes. I’ve got too much riding on it to bullshit you.”

Tanner nodded, looking satisfied. “Drop your bag off at the locker on the end and go find Dell. Probably in the training room around the corner.”

I left the bag with my skates and sticks and headed in the direction he’d pointed. With the team still on the ice, the locker room was silent.

I stuck my head in the doorway and looked around. All I saw was someone dressed in black digging through a cabinet near the floor. From the size of the lithe frame, it had to be a woman.

“Hey there,” I said. Her head snapped my way, green eyes wide with surprise. “I’m looking for Dell.”

“You found her.” She stood – all five foot nothing of her. “Something funny?”

“I just … ah, was expecting Dell to be an older … man, I think.”

“Nope. You must be Luke Hudson.”

“Yeah. So you’re the trainer?”