Free Her Man Advantage by Joanne Rock Page B

I must have run drugs, too.” He handed her back her keys. “I have no idea what they want from me now, but I’m obviously back on their radar.”
    She slid the keys in her purse, stunned.
    “You were part of a gang.” She envisioned hockey players as pampered athletes, funded by families with the money to drive their kids to far-flung games to hone their skills. She knew from an internet search the night before that his foster family in the U.S. was wealthy and influential, owning a global hotel conglomerate. “How old were you?”
    “Eight when I first started going to the clubhouse with my stepfather. By the time he left my mother three years later, I knew better than to take a package with me when I ran messages and I’d quit doing that part of it, but I was already well entrenched.” He levered open the driver’s-side door. “We’d better get going. We don’t want to miss the plane.”
    Jennifer remained in her seat, still processing this new piece of information that didn’t fit with her image of Axel Rankin at all.
    A shiver of unease went through her. “This documentary could be really dangerous for you.” Now she understood his vocal opposition to her project. His resentment about showing her around the practice arena that day.
    “I was on the phone all afternoon talking to my foster family to make sure they know I could be back on the gang’s radar after the documentary airs. But as it turns out, I’m already back in the crosshairs.”
    Cold dread knotted in her stomach.
    “You really think they might—” She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “Try to hurt you?”
    “At this point, that’s the least of my concerns.” He covered her hand with his, his blue eyes darker than usual. “I’m more worried that this film may be dangerous for you. When we come back to Philadelphia two days from now, you need to be careful.”

7
    P HILADELPHIA 2, M ONTREAL 1.
    Vincent Girard liked the look of the numbers on the scoreboard as he skated off the ice the next afternoon following a narrow win in overtime. The team’s playmaker, Kyle Murphy, had made the game-winning goal with eighteen seconds to spare, the shot fed to him on a sweet pass by his foster brother, Axel. The two of them were something to see in a game situation—their passes to each other did not miss.
    The arena was quiet after the hometown team’s loss. Most fans shuffled toward the exits, but a few Philly fans stuck around to cheer for the Phantoms as they filed off the ice toward the tunnel that would take them into the visitors’ locker room. Vinny’s eyes went to the stands in search of Chelsea, the way they did after every game.
    What kind of guy waited nine months to make a move? He kept thinking she’d come around—open her eyes to his obvious attraction—sooner or later. But the waiting was killing him and it was becoming clear that she’d never see he wanted more unless he pushed.
    A big freaking gamble when she’d made it known the players were like brothers to her, nothing more. He risked a lot here. Risked losing her completely.
    “Way to go, Vinny!” a woman shouted, and he recognized Misty’s singsong voice above him as he neared the tunnel.
    Peering up through the flutter of waving programs where fans tried to entice players to give autographs, he saw Chelsea and her friends. Misty was in front, pushing through the small crowd to claim a spot at the rail. Chelsea, Rosa and Keiko circled behind her. And was it his imagination, or did Chelsea hang back more than usual tonight?
    He’d started to implement his more assertive strategy with her today when he’d given her the GPS. Had she started retreating from him already?
    “Thanks, Misty.” He lifted a hand to return her high five, pausing near the rail while the other guys milled around signing autographs and hats. “How did you make out on the trip up here? Did you get good directions?”
    He knew the unit he’d bought was state-of-the-art, but until you got