Chapter Three: Enemy's Eyes
1119 Words
Chapter Three: Enemy's Ice
My ice rink was nothing compared to the Chicago Wolves practice rink. This rink was larger, grungier, with a smell of sweat and testosterone. I had waited outside the front entrances at eleven o'clock, peering in through the glass entrance as the hockey club concluded their late practice.
My hands were trembling. Not from cold, but with what I was about to attempt.
Asking for help from Alexei Volkov was asking a shark to go vegetarian. Unlikely and probably deadly.
I had been looking into him for days. Alexei "Ice King" Volkov, twenty-six, three straight years Chicago Wolves captain. Six two of raw, uncut muscle and attitude. The press's favorite words of description were cold, calculating, and merciless on the ice.
Something the media did not know is his father was a member of Chicago's most violent crime family. The same crime family that battled my family for a decade.
It was the same family Papa implicated in the car bombing that murdered Mama about five years back.
I stood at the glass and observed players leave the ice. They were shoving and laughing and joking around like giant children. Not Alexei. He moved across the ice with precision, his black hair wet, and his jaw clenched in a hard line.
Stepping back, I could understand why he had been assigned the codename Ice King. There was something cold and calculating about him.
Every player went into the locker room. I waited another twenty minutes because the majority of them were exiting the facility. There were not many cars left in the parking lot.
I breathed deeply, and I swung the doors open.
The guard glanced up from behind his desk. "Rink's closed, miss."
"I'm here to see Alexei Volkov. It's an emergency."
The guard glared. "Players don't hold meetings this late..."
"Tell him Lucia Romano wants to speak with him. He will want to speak with me."
His eyes widened as he heard the last name. Everyone in Chicago knew what Romano was.
It took him five minutes to exit the locker room. He wore black jeans and a black t-shirt with arms that could likely bench a car. His black eyes immediately locked onto mine, and I felt a jolt with something I could not identify.
Danger, possibly. Or electricity.
"Lucia Romano." His voice, his accent, had little but the barest edge of Russian, like his father's. "What a surprise."
"Let's talk in private." I suggested, waspily conscious that the security guard was listening in.
Alexei looked at me for a moment, nodded once toward a door with 'Conference Room' written over it. "After you."
I passed by him, picking up his scent which was a combination of his mixed with ice and leather.
The room was tiny, with an antiseptic environment, and contained a table and a few chairs.
Alexei closed the door behind both of us but continued standing.
"So," he growled, folding his arms over his chest. "Vincent Romano's kid wants to speak with Dmitri Volkov's kid. In private. At eleven PM." His lips stretched wide into an unappeasing smile. "Intriguing."
I raised my chin. "I need your help."
Alexei smiled, but it was not an amusing one. "My hepy? Princess, you are misinterpreting what family I belong to."
"I know who you are exactly." I said firmly. "And I know this sounds insane. But I'm desperate."
"Desperate enough to go into enemy territory alone?" Alexei scowled belligerently. "Your father know you're over here?"
"No. And he never should. Nor should yours."
"Alright, you've got my attention." Alexei sat down in a chair and called over to me. "Come on, sit down."
I sat opposite him, paying less attention to the manner in which his presence took over the whole room.
"My Olympic skating partner double-crossed me three weeks before Olympic trials. I need a new partner."
"And you expect me to put everything else on hold in order to help you with your Olympic dreams?" Alexei's tone dripped with sarcasm. "What made you think I'm even qualified to ice skate?"
"Because I did my research. You figure skated until you were sixteen. You won nationals before you switched over to hockey."
Something sparked in Alexei's eyes. "It was a long time ago."
"You remember. And you keep yourself fit enough to piece together what you forgot." I moved close. "You are the only person in Chicago with these set of skills that could make this competition worth while."
"Even if it was true, why should I assist you? Your people murdered my uncle."
The stay stung like a slap. "That was business. That's different."
"Business?" His tone had turned icily quiet. "My uncle's murder, business?"
I grittied my jaws. "I don't know what had happened between our families. I was young when war had broken out. But this has nothing to do with it."
"Everything between the Romano 'nd th' Volkov has everything to do with it." Alexei rose. "This conversation is over."
"Wait!" I leaped into standing. "I'll pay you. Anything you want."
Alexei paused by the doorway, his hand resting upon the knob. "Why do you think I would need money?"
"Everyone needs something." I was hopeless at this point. "Quote a price."
Slowly, he turned, and the expression in his eyes took my breath. It was cold, calculating, but hungry.
"Everyone needs something," he went on quietly. "You're right about that."
"Then you'll assist me?"
Alexei advanced towards me, so close I had to look up at his face. "Perhaps. My payment isn't money."
"What do you want?"
His smile was equally razor-thin. "Details. About what your people are doing. About your father's finances. About anything that a refined Romano princess looks at, anything that she hears."
My blood went cold. "You want me spying among my own people."
"I want you to pay my uncle's blood with something valuable." His tone was soft but lethal. "Information has its worth."
I stared at him, my heart racing. He was asking me to do the same thing David had done: betray my family. Put Olympic dreams ahead of family duty.
"I cannot do that."
"We're done here." Alexei looked away once more.
"Wait." The statement had slipped out before I could grab it. "Let me think about it."
He glanced over his shoulder in my direction. "You have twenty-four hours. Be here tomorrow evening if you're interested in making a deal."
Alexei left me by myself in the conference room, the rest of my existence spinning out of control.
I had twenty-four hours to make the cho
ice between betraying my family or abandoning my dreams for good.
And what was worst, I was actually considering it.
- Writer
