My Hockey Captain Ex is Now the Ruthless CEO

Under the Bleachers

The echo of the camera flash was still bouncing off the concrete walls when Daniel's fingers clamped around my forearm like a vise.

"Run," he breathed into my ear.

We did not look back to see Miller's face. We did not wait to hear Marcus yell. Daniel yanked me sideways through the narrow service door, the hinges crying out with a low metallic squeak, and suddenly the freezing night air hit my face like a wet towel.

Rain was coming down in sheets, heavy and slick against the asphalt. Behind us, the heavy metal door smashed open against the exterior brick.

"Hey!" a voice barked into the storm. "Stop right there!"

"This way!" I gasped, my sneakers skidding on the wet grass as I pulled Daniel toward the dark frame of the home team stadium bleachers.

The mud swallowed our shoes with heavy sucking sounds, but we kept moving, ducking under the low steel crossbeams that held up the aluminum seating. The space under the bleachers was a cavern of damp earth, rusted metal, and old plastic cups, pitch black except for the dull yellow glow of the streetlights filtering through the floorboards high above.

"In here," Daniel muttered, dragging me into a cramped nook formed by two crisscrossing support girders.

The space was barely wide enough for one person, let alone two. I slammed back against the cold steel, my lungs burning, rain dripping from the ends of my hair straight down the inside of my collar. Daniel squeezed in right after me, his chest pressing against mine as he pulled a rusted piece of plywood over the gap behind him.

Footsteps heavy enough to vibrate through the dirt came to an abrupt stop right outside our metal cage.

"Where the hell did they go?" Marcus's voice sounded muffled through the rain, but he was close. Less than ten feet away.

A bright beam of light cut through the spaces between the bleacher boards above us, sweeping across the dark earth like a searchlight. My pulse was thudding so loud I was sure Marcus could hear it over the storm.

"Look by the sheds!" Miller shouted from further down the track. His voice was ragged, pitched high with absolute panic. "If someone took a video, Marcus, my life is over! Do you hear me?"

"Shut up and keep looking!" Marcus snapped back.

The flashlight beam flickered right across Daniel's shoulder.

I sucked in a sharp, frantic breath, my shoulders locking up as the panic clawed at my throat. I opened my mouth to whisper something, anything, but Daniel acted before I could make a sound.

His hand shot up, his palm cupping the back of my neck, and he pulled me forward.

His mouth came down on mine.

My eyes went wide in the dark. My hands slammed against his chest, my fingers twisting into the wet fabric of his denim jacket to push him off, but he held me tight, leaning his whole weight against me to pin me flat against the steel beam. He tilted his head, deepening the pressure, his lips warm and rough against mine in the middle of the freezing draft.

Above us, the flashlight beam swept right over our heads, lighting up the metal girders just inches above Daniel's hair.

If I moved, if I made a sound, if I fought him off, the light would catch us.

My fingers loosened on his jacket.

My eyes drifted shut. The icy terror in my gut split wide open, replaced instantly by a sudden, dizzying rush of heat that ran all the way down to my toes. The smell of wet rain and tobacco on his skin was suddenly the only thing in the entire world. I did not push him away. My hand crept up from his chest, my fingers tangled in the damp, thick hair at the nape of his neck, and I kissed him back, my pulse racing out of control for a reason that had nothing to do with Marcus Cole.

The heavy footsteps on the gravel began to fade, moving slowly toward the far end of the field.

"Nothing over here!" Marcus called out, his voice growing fainter against the pounding rain. "Check the parking lot!"

The second the footsteps died down, reality slammed into me like a brick wall.

I shoved Daniel back hard. His back hit the opposite support beam with a dull thud, his breathing just as ragged and uneven as mine.

"Are you out of your mind?" I hissed, scrubbing the back of my hand over my lips, my face burning so hot I was amazed the rain on my cheeks did not turn to steam. "What was that?"

"I was hiding your face," Daniel whispered, his eyes wide and dark in the shadows. He was leaning against the metal, his chest rising and falling heavily. "The flashlight was right on you, Emily. If Marcus saw your face, your uncle would have had your transcript canceled by midnight."

"So you kissed me?" My voice cracked, a frantic, defensive edge sharp enough to slice glass. "You think that was the only way to cover my face?"

"Do you have a better idea?" he shot back, stepping closer again, his jaw set tight. "Because from where I was standing, you were about to scream."

"I was not going to scream!" I ducked out from under his arm, squeezing out of the narrow metal gap and stepping into the muddy aisle beneath the bleachers. "You took advantage of the moment. That was completely out of line, Daniel."

"Out of line?" Daniel let out a low, disbelieving laugh, following me into the open dirt path. "I just saved your scholarship, Emily. And if I remember correctly, you were not exactly fighting me off after the first two seconds."

"Because I did not want us to get caught!" I turned on him, my hands shaking as I wiped rain out of my eyes. "That was strictly tactical. Do not get any stupid ideas just because we are pretending to date for the school."

Daniel stared at me in the dim yellow light, his mouth opening to say something sharp, then closing again. A strange, unreadable expression passed over his features, his dark eyes searching my face until I had to look down at my boots just to escape his gaze.

"Fine," he said quietly, his tone turning as cold as the rain soaking through our clothes. "Tactical. Got it."

The silence between us hung heavy and suffocating, louder than the storm beating against the aluminum seats above us. I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist, my heart still thumping violently against my ribs, hating the fact that my lips were still tingling from the pressure of his mouth.

A sudden, sharp vibration shattered the quiet.

My phone was buzzing in my coat pocket.

I pulled it out with trembling fingers, the bright screen illuminating the wet leather of my gloves. "It is an unknown number," I muttered, my thumb sliding across the glass to open the message.

"Is it Tyler?" Daniel asked, stepping up right behind my shoulder, his earlier anger completely vanishing into sudden tension.

"I do not know," I whispered.

An image loaded on the screen first.

It was a high resolution photo, crisp and clear despite the dark. It had been taken from high up in the stadium seats, looking straight down through the gap in the floorboards into our exact hiding spot. In the photo, Daniel's hand was tangled in my hair, his chest pressed flush against mine, and our lips were locked tightly beneath the rusted steel beam.

My breath hitched in my throat.

Below the photo, a single line of text appeared on the screen.

Nice photo, Cousin. Send me the video of Miller, or this hits the entire school group chat before the rally ends.