Page 110 of Ruthless Game

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Lawson

Emma wasn’t in the stands where she was supposed to be.

None of the girls were, but Jack and Isaac could deal with their own women. No, I only cared about mine—and she was nowhere in sight.

“What the actual hell?” I muttered, turning my head and scanning the arena for her. I swore she’d been sitting right there during warm ups.

Isaac patted me on the shoulder. “The obsession is the hardest part, but you get used to it. I’m sure they went to the bathroom or something.”

Jack snorted. “You only seem this blasé because you know you can check your phone and see her tracker in the app.”

My eyes widened. “You track Tovah’s phone?”

“Not her phone.”

“Oh.”

I relaxed slightly.

“Her body,” he added, and all that relaxation went out the window. “I stuck a GPS tracker in her when she was sleeping. She doesn’t know, so don’t fucking tell her.”

I stared at him, then turned to Jack.

Isaac snorted. “Don’t look at him like he’ll be the sane one. Where do you think I got the idea?”

“Aviva’s going to be pissed,” I told Jack, but if I were honest, I was a little jealous of how far he was willing to go.

“Oh, she will,” Jack said. “When she figures it out. So far, we’ve been fine. My plan is to get her locked down and knocked up before that happens, so she’s less inclined to actually kill me over it.” He looked like he was actually looking forward to, well … all of it.

“Anyway, I highly recommend it. Takes the stress out of everything when you know where she is at all times,” Isaac said. “But we can talk about it after the game. Coach said he’s putting you in after the first period.”

I didn’t want to pay attention, not when Emma could be anywhere, but I turned back to the game, anyway.

And then my eyes narrowed.

“I’m gonna kill him,” I said.

“Shit,” Isaac said, like he knew exactly who I was talking about.

Because the guy I was staring at—I knew his face. His hair. Hell, I even knew what his bare chest looked like when he was pumping away at a girl who looked like mine but wasn’t.

Possessed by who the fuck knew what, I was off the bench and on the ice in seconds.

“Lawson, you aren’t playing!” Coach roared.

I ignored him, because my heart was roaring louder in my ears than he was. Ripping my gloves off, I jumped on top of Ralphie, the Corcoran player and my rival back in high school during juniors, punching him so hard in the head, he should’ve seen stars.

Instead, he glared at me, punching me right back.

“What the fuck, Lawson? What the hell did I ever do to you?”

“You pretended to sleep with my girl,” I told him, punching him again.

He punched me right back, right in the ear. I felt blood spurt, and my head spun.

“No, I fucking didn’t. Or well, I did. But not by choice. Your fucking psycho billet brother blackmailed me. Found out I’d cheated on my SATs, and held it over my head. Told me if I fucked his girlfriend and pretended it was Emma, he’d drop it. Well, it’s been years so I don’t think that shit about my SATs matters anymore, and clearly you haven’t gotten over it.”