Bishop (Arizona Vengeance 1) - Page 37
She has her beautiful butt perched on the edge of her seat with her elbows on her knees leaning as far forward in her seat and she can manage without falling out of it. She grins at me and I lift my chin before giving her a wink. Her grin gets bigger.
Before I can give her a dopey look in return, I make myself turn away so I can concentrate on getting warmed up. We settle into a two-player breakaway drill, shooting lobs at our goalie so he can also warm up. I managed to make three passes at the net without thinking about Brooke once. Admittedly, I do look up to her after that third pass, and she’s watching me intently.
I can’t figure out the why of it, but it seems to ramp up my exhilaration and adrenaline. I’m eager to get out there and kick some fucking ass tonight, and even more so because Brooke will be watching.* * *—
Even though I felt the Vengeance players had gelled nicely with each other during training camp, I had not really had much in the way of expectations for how we would play in an actual game against a top-notch opponent.
But by the third period when we were up five to one, I knew this team was made of something special. Maybe there was a magic formula that was employed for picking the players in the expansion draft, or maybe it was that all of my teammates are just fired up by the possibility of something great. I have to admit, it doesn’t suck having a world-class arena and training facility and flying in the most luxurious style to our games. I think there’s an element that Mr. Carlson is taking good care of us, so we should give 110 percent effort.
Maybe it’s all of it, but tonight we are on fire.
There is less than a minute to play in the game and San Francisco has the puck in our end.
Legend has been crushing it in the net tonight, stopping thirty-eight out of thirty-nine shots on goal, and it’s impossible—barring a miracle—that the Brawlers could score four goals to at least tie this game. But no matter that we have a comfortable lead, every single one of us out here on the ice never stops playing our hearts out, even if we’re playing conservatively and on the defensive to run out the clock.
Down to thirty seconds and Eric manages to poke check the puck away from a Brawler. It wobbles right onto Tacker’s stick and I’m taking off down the ice. I look over my shoulder and see that Tacker is already making the pass to me.
It had taken no more than a second for me to look for that pass, but in that moment one of the Brawlers gets ahead and has turned on his skates to face me, making himself a huge obstacle to get around if I’m to get a shot off.
Despite the fact my legs are gassed, knowing that Brooke is up in those stands probably on her feet and screaming for me right now gives me a burst of energy I didn’t expect. I dig my blades into the ice and surge forward tapping the puck left and right in front of me. I come up on the defenseman so fast his eyes actually widen before he focuses on my torso to lessen the impact of which way I’m going to try to juke him. My favorite move is to fake left then skirt around on the right. I have no clue if the player in front of me knows me well enough to know that, but in case he does, I juke right.
The minute I see his bulk going the same way to cut me off, I spin 360 degrees to the right, giving him my back for only a mere moment before I have open ice in front of me and a goaltender determined to beat me.
I push out two powerful strides on my skates to get within fifteen feet of the goalie and I fake a shot to his left. He falls for it and I give a quick wrist flick over to his right side, watching as the puck flips end over and end, squeaking through the small opening between his leg pad and glove arm.
Straight through the seven hole into the back of the net.
A tiny roar goes up from the crowd. Admittedly, probably only 20 percent of the arena is filled with Vengeance fans, but the fact that we’re a newly franchised team that just went up six to one over the Brawlers in their arena has made their voices significantly louder.
I’m swamped by my teammates, who throw their arms around me and tap me on top of my helmet. This was the second goal I scored tonight.
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