Velocity: Impulse, Book Three by Amelia C. Gormley

Author:Amelia C. Gormley [Gormley,Amelia C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-6262260-0-5
Published: 2013-06-26T04:00:00+00:00

DERRICK KNEW who his antagonists were the moment he walked into the meeting. He’d been avoiding the locker room since the harassing text messages had begun. His desire to thumb his nose at his harassers hadn’t managed to outweigh his concern that someone might have a moment of gay panic at being nude in the locker room with him. He’d begun showing up at the last minute for practice and games, when the guys were already in their gear, and headed immediately for the ice.

Most of their teammates looked confused or uncertain about the meeting. Patrick appeared grim and determined. Of all the men there, only two besides himself and Devon looked ready for combat. Metaphorical combat, he hoped. Derrick wanted to believe that they could settle this reasonably, like adults, but looking at the faces of the other men — and keeping in mind what Gavin had said occasionally about his experiences with harassment after coming out — that probably couldn’t be guaranteed.

They were, after all, a hockey team.

Everett, he’d almost expected. He’d been a big offender of spewing casual and thoughtless homophobic slurs on and off the ice. He also seemed to be the guy most likely to check Derrick against the boards during practice this season.

Chad, though, came as a surprise.

Derrick, Devon, and Hannah had attended Chad’s wedding. He had offered to fix Derrick up with his wife’s maid-of-honor. Derrick had been drunk enough — and celibate long enough — that he’d considered accepting for all of half a second.

From the defensive way Chad now bristled, Derrick was willing to bet he was the chief, if not the only, perpetrator behind the text messages. If he’d been able to convince the phone company to trace the spoofed addresses without a police report, he would have known for sure.

At the front of the locker room, beside Patrick, was Hugh Rames, the owner of the rink and league president. He didn’t look any happier than the rest of them.

Derrick heard Devon groan softly behind him and murmur, “Shit. They brought in the rich, old, white dude. This is not gonna go well for you, bro.”

Chad and Everett stood against one of the painted cinder-block walls with their bags of gear at their feet, their arms crossed over their chests. For all that they appeared to be holding up the wall, they weren’t even close to relaxed. Derrick wanted to mirror their posture, put his back against something, but he didn’t want to be the one who appeared he was looking for a fight. He wasn’t sure just how many of their teammates were in lockstep with Everett and Chad, but he wasn’t going to do anything that might sway popular opinion against him. Instead, he stacked his gear on the floor in the aisle between benches, interposing it between himself and his antagonists. It wouldn’t serve as much of a barricade, but it might trip up anyone who tried to charge him. He sat on the bench, trying to

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