Page 223 of The Pucking Coach's Daughter

sydney

I’m not sure if there’s supposed to be some sort of interrogation in here, but Oliver and I move out of the offices while Carter and Penn enter the room where Bear is kept. They hoist him up and wrestle him out, past us and into the storage room.

“It’s okay,” I say to Oliver in the wake of their movement.

He looks at me.

“That you don’t, um, want to do this anymore.” I touch my wrist. I forgot my watch, and the old, barely healed cuts ground me. Amongst all the other pain, that is controlled.

He just looks at me.

Until I glance away.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I do want to do this. But I’m not going to give you my heart when you’re…”

“Broken?” Bitterness fills my voice.

“Distracted. Penn and Carter both said it, didn’t they? Or maybe Carter didn’t, but I’m sure you had some sort of conversation.” He touches my chin, turning my head back toward him. “Sorry, mi nena, but when I bleed my heart out for you, I want it to be the only thing on your mind. Not Bear, not being hurt, not how Penn did it or?—”

“Okay.” I wrap my fingers around his wrist. “Okay. I couldn’t bear it if you… left.”

“I’m not leaving,” he assures me.

The storage room door opens, and Carter sticks his head out. He gives us a thumbs-up.

My stomach twists.

This is it, then?

I follow Oliver into the room, holding my breath. Much like how they had me strung up, Bear is in the center of the room with his arms over his head.

Like they had me, only the very tips of his toes touch the floor. He slides, trying and failing to get purchase. I grit my teeth and stare at the mask taped to his head. Strips of the gray tape cover the mask eyeholes. I don’t want to know how they knew… or when Carter flicks open his knife and cuts Bear’s shirt off him, that that’s what they did to me.

Not until I find the scraps of my shirt in the corner of the room.

Oliver stands so close to me, his body heat radiates into me. We move around the room, until we’re at the farthest corner of Bear’s peripherals, with the profile of the mask clear in the low light. It takes me a second to notice the bucket of water. The jumper cables sit beside the car battery.

“What was first?” Penn glances at Carter. “Was it the water?”

Bear twists in his restraints.

“Yeah,” Carter says. “Soaked him through. Even the hood over his face. Bit like waterboarding, don’t you think?”

“We’ll have to ask him,” Penn replies. He picks up the bucket of water and dumps it, without warning, over Bear’s head.

He makes a noise. It’s muffled by something, but it would be a shout if he could speak.

Carter steps up and slices away the mask. The tape sticks to the back of Bear’s head, but the plastic mask falls away as soon as it’s free, dropping to the floor.

Fresh blood trickles down his temple from Carter’s knife, and a lone piece of tape covers his mouth. Before Bear can get his bearings—no pun intended—Penn delivers a hard punch to his gut.

The larger man contracts, his body jerking and shoulders stretching as his weight rests solely on them. He swings for a minute, his back to Oliver and me, until his toes scrape the floor and he brings himself to a stop.

Carter and Penn exchange a glance, and in one move, Penn rips the tape from Bear’s mouth. He drops it, his lips flattening.

“You getting your licks in now, Walker?” Bear spits.

His voice brings goosebumps to the backs of my arms.