Free Off the Grid by Cassandra Carr Page B

police, but who would believe that he’d acted in self-defense? Even with the letter, Ethan doubted the police would give him a thumbs-up and let him go. And if they did, what about this Delacourte? Ethan had seen enough action movies to know guys like that didn’t usually take well to the double whammy of still not having their money and one of their employees being dead too. He couldn’t keep a bodyguard with him twenty-four/seven, and what about all this other shit? Who else had his parents pissed off?
    I just killed someone. The sentence replayed in his mind over and over. Ethan pressed his palms into his forehead and then ran his hands through his hair. Oh my god, I killed someone.
    He had to get out of there. Not only had he just committed a felony, but apparently owed all kinds of people money he didn’t have. Clearly his parents didn’t either.
    No wonder they’d insisted on taking this month-long cruise through the Mediterranean. I wonder if they’re even doing that. Maybe going on vacation had been a cover story and his parents were long gone, leaving him to clean up the mess.
    His gaze was drawn to the blood still spreading on his gray ceramic tile floor and Ethan held his stomach, the oatmeal, protein shake, and fruit inside it turning sour. “How could they do this? It wasn’t even their money. They were supposed to be making sure I had a secure future after my career was over. And now I have nothing. Not a damned penny, probably, after this is over.”
    His fists clenched and his body went hot and cold in turn. Ethan began to shake again. I have to leave. He skimmed the surroundings with a wild, unfocused gaze. The various objects seemed distorted, like one of those haunted houses. Yeah, this is a fucking haunted house, complete with dead guy.
    His feet moved of their own volition and he found himself in his bedroom.
    Because of his travel schedule, he kept a bag half-packed and sitting in the corner, and now he grabbed it, stuffing socks, underwear, jeans, sweats, whatever came out of his drawers into it. With that filled, he grabbed another, larger suitcase usually reserved for vacations. Won’t need it for that anytime soon. That bag soon overflowed with more clothes, toiletries, and a couple of other items he didn’t want to leave behind, like his two Cup rings. At least his parents hadn’t pawned those.
    Ethan had picked up both bags and begun to leave when he remembered the safe he’d never told his parents about. All players in the league got a stipend when they traveled, and Ethan never used all his money. Years ago he’d begun to stash the extra. He couldn’t remember why he’d never mentioned it, but now a wave of relief washed over him that at least they couldn’t get their filthy hands on that money.
    The cash would help only a little, but at least he’d have some. The only certainty was he couldn’t go about his life as if nothing had happened, even as his life fell down around him. Ethan couldn’t even think about the looks on the faces of his teammates, the public, and the press. The media would have a fucking field day with this, especially once it came out what he’d done. He couldn’t hide a dead man.
    Quickly, Ethan threw the luggage into the back of his Range Rover, but then paused, glancing over at his “summer car”, a 1969 Shelby GT500 Mustang. He and his dad had restored it together. An involuntary tear squeezed out of his eye, but Ethan refused to give in to the desire to crawl into a corner and curl up into the fetal position. He needed to move.
    He drove, trying to calm the burning anger and overwhelming fear inside him, but to no avail. His heart raced, his head pounded, and he gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles as he considered the ramifications of all this. If he’d never become a hockey player, if he’d just gone into law enforcement like he’d planned before he’d realized he was good enough to play pro hockey, none of this would have