Fighting To Score (The Baltimore Banners Book 12)

  FIGHTING TO SCORE

  The Baltimore Banners Book 12

  Lisa B. Kamps

  FIGHTING TO SCORE

  Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  The Baltimore Banners™ is a fictional professional ice hockey team, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.

  Artwork and Cover Design by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art

  http://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other titles by this author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  THE PROTECTOR: MAC preview

  PLAYING THE GAME preview

  About the author

  Other titles by this author

  For my hubby.

  Thank you for always being there.

  Other titles by this author:

  COVER SIX SECURITY

  Covered By A Kiss, A CSS Novella, Book 0

  The Protector: MAC, Book 1

  The Guardian: DARYL, Book 2

  The Defender: RYDER, Book 3

  THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

  Crossing the Line, Book 1

  Game Over, Book 2

  Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

  Body Check, Book 4

  Break Away, Book 5

  Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  Delay of Game, Book 6

  Shoot Out, Book 7

  The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

  Books 1-3 Boxed set

  The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

  Books 4-6 Boxed set

  On Thin Ice, Book 8

  Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  One-Timer, Book 9

  Face Off, Book 10

  First Shot At Love, A Baltimore Banners Short Story

  Game Misconduct, Book 11

  Christmas Interference, A Baltimore Banners Short Story

  Fighting To Score, Book 12

  Matching Penalties, Book 13

  THE YORK BOMBERS

  Playing The Game, Book 1

  Playing To Win, Book 2

  Playing For Keeps, Book 3

  Playing It Up, Book 4

  Playing It Safe, Book 5

  The York Bombers Boxed Set 1

  Books 1-3

  Playing For Love, Book 6

  Playing His Part, Book 7

  THE CHESAPEAKE BLADES

  Winning Hard, Book 1

  Loving Hard, Book 2

  Playing Hard, Book 3

  FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN

  Once Burned, Book 1

  Playing With Fire, Book 2

  Breaking Protocol, Book 3

  Into the Flames, Book 4

  Second Alarm, Book 5

  Feel The Burn, Book 6

  Coming Soon

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)

  Finding Dr. Right

  Time To Heal

  Dangerous Passion

  Be sure to sign up for Lisa's monthly newsletter, Kamps' Korner, for exciting news, sneak peeks, exclusive content, and fun, games, and giveaways! You don’t want to miss it!

  Can't wait for the newsletter? Then please join Lisa and a great group of readers and fans at Kamps Korner on Facebook!

  Chapter One

  "Where the fuck is my sister?"

  Shane Masters didn't have time to register the man standing in the doorway before a fist caught him under the jaw. He staggered backward, dropped to one knee then quickly jumped back up. His own hand curled into a fist, ready to swing back.

  The only reason he didn't was because the question finally registered in his ringing head. It was a question he'd been asking himself for the last two months—a question he had no answer to.

  He shook his head and reached up, placed one hand against the stinging pain shooting through his jaw as he stared at his visitor. Wyatt Hunter—his former best friend.

  And Chloe's twin brother.

  Shane ignored the outbursts of surprise coming from the living room behind him. He waved off his teammates—Jaxon Miller, Logan Simms, Hunter Billings—and pinned Wyatt with a frown that conveyed his anger and his confusion.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?"

  "Chloe. Where is she?"

  "How the fuck should I know?"

  Wyatt's shoulders slumped, just a fraction of an inch, as doubt crept into the dark green eyes that reminded Shane so much of Chloe. The other man blinked and the doubt was gone, replaced by wariness.

  "Chloe's not here?"

  "I haven't seen Chloe since New Year's." New Year's evening, to be exact. When he'd taken her to the airport and dropped her off. When he kissed her goodbye amid promises to see her in a few weeks, when she came back to town to watch that stupid-ass exhibition game the Banners had against a women's hockey team, the Chesapeake Blades.

  A lot of shit had happened since that game—a game they had nearly lost. A game that Chloe had missed because she hadn't bothered to show up. She sent him a text—a fucking text—to let him know something had come up and she wouldn't be able to make it. Then she had proceeded to ignore every single call he'd made, every single text he'd sent—until the very last one.

  Chloe, what's going on? I miss you. Need to see you.

  Busy. Got stuff to work on. I'll catch up with you later.

  Yeah—later. Only later had never come. Shane wasn't an idiot, he knew when he was being brushed off. What he didn't know was why. Why, after all this time? Why, once they'd finally reconnected again after five years? Had he done something wrong? Said something wrong? He didn't know, and Chloe wasn't sharing.

  No, Shane wasn't an idiot. After the twentieth message and fifteenth phone call had gone unanswered, he finally got the point. No matter how great Christmas had been, no matter how great their New Year's weekend had been, the reunion he'd been hoping for wasn't happening.

  No matter how much he wanted it to.

  He shoved the anger and the pain back to the dark corner where they'd been lurking for the last seven weeks and stared at the other man. Wyatt's words slowly sunk in. His concern. His confusion.

  "Wait. Why the fuck do you think Chloe's here?"

  "B
ecause she flew out here a few weeks ago and hasn't been home since."

  "What do you mean, she hasn't been home? Where the fuck is she?"

  "I thought she was here with you."

  The first tingle of alarm crept through Shane, prickling his skin. He swallowed past the icy lump in his throat and shook his head. "She's not here. I told you, I haven't seen her since New Year's, when I dropped her off at the airport. And I haven't talked to her in nearly a month."

  "Fuck." Wyatt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, briefly stumbling before catching himself. Shane finally noticed the heavy backpack slung over the man's shoulder, the smaller duffel resting at his feet.

  He looked closer, saw the pale stubble that covered Wyatt's jaw and the hint of shadows under his eyes. Shane opened the door wider then stepped back, waving Wyatt in with a brief gesture. "Get in here and tell me what the fuck is going on. Where's Chloe and why the hell would you think she's here?"

  "Because she said she was coming here, that's why. Almost a month ago." Wyatt shuffled through the doorway, his limp noticeable when he stepped into the entranceway. Shane reached for the small duffel and slung it over his shoulder then pushed the door closed. The motion blocked the cold night air but did nothing to ease the chill freezing his blood.

  "Are you telling me Chloe's been missing for a month?"

  "Yeah."

  Fear like he'd never before experienced ripped through him. Shane dropped the bag and reached for the door, ready to tear off outside and start looking for her. A month. Why had they waited so long? A month was an eternity. Didn't they know what could happen in a month? Why—

  A hand tightened around his wrist, stopping him before he could race outside. He stared at Wyatt, glanced down at the hand grabbing him, started to jerk his arm free.

  "Not missing, not like that."

  "What the fuck does that mean?"

  "It means we've talked to her—"

  "So she's not missing."

  "—but we don't know where she is."

  Shane clenched his jaw, swallowed back the confusion and anger and panic. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, knowing that exploding wouldn't help anything.

  He exploded anyway.

  "How the fuck can you talk to her but not know where the fuck she is?" The words came out in a roar, filled with every single emotion he'd been bottling up inside him since Chloe had pretty much sent him on his way. Anger. Frustration. Hurt. Confusion. Pain. All that and more erupted in his voice, in the ragged words that ripped from his chest.

  He sensed his teammates behind him, watching with shock and maybe even a little amusement. Sensed them shifting from their sprawled positions on the expensive leather furniture, sensed them slowly coming to their feet. To calm him down? To stop him from ripping Wyatt in two if he didn't start explaining? Or to watch him finally come unglued after teetering on the edge of insanity for the last few weeks?

  All of the above, probably. Or maybe for other reasons Shane couldn't even think of right now. But the outburst didn't seem to faze Wyatt at all. The other man simply clenched his jaw, stepped forward, and shoved one long finger in Shane's chest.

  "We thought she was with you, asshole. Until Mom stopped by the art gallery to drop something off and learned she quit her fucking job. Until Chloe finally admitted that she fucking moved out here."

  "Wait. What?" Shane ran a hand through his hair and tried to get a grip on the confusion swamping him. He was missing something, something important. "Chloe's here? In Baltimore? I don't understand—"

  "Yeah, no shit. We thought she moved in with you, that you convinced her to drop everything to be with you."

  "No. No, I wouldn't do that. And since when does anyone convince Chloe to do anything she doesn't want to do, anyway?"

  Now it was Wyatt's turn to frown. He glanced over Shane's shoulder, the frown changing to a scowl for a brief second before those dark green eyes turned back to him.

  "And you haven't seen her?"

  "No. I told you, not since New Year's."

  "And she hasn't said anything to you?"

  Shane opened his mouth, snapped it shut and looked behind him. Three sets of eyes stared back at him, drinking everything in. Shane narrowed his eyes at his teammates then turned back to Wyatt, his voice pitched low. Not that that would help, not when he knew his teammates were straining to hear every word.

  "I, uh, I haven't really talked to her. Not since..."

  Wyatt's head tilted to the side, waiting. "Not since when?"

  "Not since she pretty much broke things off. Told me she was busy and she'd see me around."

  Wyatt blew out a short breath laced with laughter and disbelief. "Are you fucking kidding me? When the hell did this happen?"

  "Almost two months ago."

  "So before she told us she was coming out here. What the hell happened?"

  "How the fuck should I know?"

  "You guys didn't argue? You didn't say anything to her? Didn't pull one of your stupid fucking stunts?"

  "No, asshole. Everything was fine the last time she was here." At least, as far as Shane knew, everything had been fine. But they hadn't really talked much those few days she had been here. Between his practice and game, and the time they spent in bed definitely not talking, there hadn't been much time for conversation. Not the verbal kind, anyway.

  "Masters, everything okay?"

  Shane looked over his shoulder again, frowning. His teammates were still watching, their expressions ranging from curiosity to...well, just curiosity. Logan seemed to be the only one worried enough to speak up—although worry might be stretching it a bit. But Logan was also the only one who knew that Chloe had pretty much dumped him with no explanation.

  Shane pasted a brief smile on his face and shook his head. "Yeah, man. Everything's fine."

  Logan's hazel-gold gaze moved from Shane to Wyatt then back again. "You sure about that?"

  "Yeah, positive." Shane grabbed the duffel bag from the floor by his feet where he'd dropped it, tightened his hand around the nylon handle, then moved into the large living room. Wyatt's awkward gait echoed behind him. "Guys, this is Wyatt Hunter. We used to play hockey together when we were growing up."

  Shane didn't tell them why they had stopped, didn't tell them how he'd screwed up his best friend's life. They didn't need to know all that and—from the way Wyatt stiffened just the slightest bit behind him—he had the impression Wyatt didn't want him sharing that information anyway.

  Brief introductions were made before Shane unceremoniously kicked his teammates out the door. He didn't miss the raised eyebrows, didn't miss the silent questions, and knew he'd be subjected to an uncomfortable interrogation tomorrow at practice. Fine. Let them hurl their questions at him. He'd deal with it—tomorrow. But tonight he had questions of his own and he couldn't ask them in front of a crowd.

  He led Wyatt into the large gourmet kitchen, ignored the man's low whistle of appreciation at the gleaming black stainless-steel appliances and polished granite. He practically shoved the other man onto one of the stools at the oversized island before moving to the refrigerator and pulling out two bottles of an expensive imported beer. He popped the tops on each then slid one to Wyatt.

  "Start talking. What the hell is going on?"

  "I already told you everything I know. We thought she was here. With you. She's been evasive as shit lately so I came out here to find out what the hell was going on."

  "Evasive? What the hell does that mean?"

  "Just what you think it means. Evasive. Brushing off questions instead of answering them, acting like everything's fine."

  "And she actually told you she was staying here? With me."

  Wyatt's lips pursed for a brief second as he reached for the beer. He took a long swallow then finally shook his head. "No, she never came right out and said that. We just thought...well, we just thought she was."

  "But you've been in contact with her? She's okay?"

  "She says she
is."

  "When's the last time you talked to her?"

  "Last night."

  Shane leaned forward, his hands tightly gripping the bottle of beer. "Then call her now and ask her where she is. Find out what the fuck is going on."

  "She's not going to tell me—"

  "Ask her pointblank where she is, see what she says. And when you're done that, give me the phone."

  "You just told me she pretty much broke things off with you. Do you really think she's going to tell you what's going on when she hasn't told us?"

  Shane shook his head, regret filling him at the admission. "Probably not. But that doesn't mean I can't talk to her."

  And maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to get to the bottom of things and say everything he wanted to say before she hung up on him.

  Chapter Two

  The phone rang, the cheerful little melody of electronic tunes that signaled an incoming call from her brother.

  Chloe Hunter was anything but cheerful at the moment and the last thing she wanted to do was talk to Wyatt. She considered letting the call go to voicemail then just as quickly discarded the idea. Wyatt had been calling too frequently lately—they all had. Her brother. Her mother. Even her father. It was getting harder to pretend everything was fine. Harder to pretend her plan was moving steadily along without a glitch.

  Chloe dug the phone from the oversized tote bag slung over her shoulder and hit the talk button. Forcing a smile she didn't feel to her voice, she answered with a cheery hello.

  "What are you doing?"

  Chloe rolled her eyes as she pushed the apartment door open with her shoulder. The wood stuck at the bottom corner so she kicked it with the toe of her boot to force it open. Cold air greeted her and she bit back the oath of frustration that wanted to tumble from her mouth. The last thing she wanted was Wyatt to hear anything in her voice that might make him suspicious.

  "Just relaxing. Getting ready to watch a movie and curl up with a good book." Yeah, sure. If she was going to watch anything, it was going to be on her phone because her tiny apartment didn't have a television. Apparently, it didn't have heat, either.