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“My, my, my ears are burning.” A deep, cocky voice.Brody.

I dragged air into my lungs for the first time in minutes.

“You know what they say, Preston. Don’t say anything behind someone’s back that you wouldn’t say to their face.”

Brody plucked the plastic cup Nick had given me out of my hand and brought it to his nose. His expression darkened when he smelled it.

“Selena doesn’t drink already-poured drinks some fucking random gives her, FYI, so don’t waste your time. What’s in this anyway? If I drink it, are you going to have your wicked way with me?”

Nick stood, bristling. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means your drink smells like chemicals. I don’t like that one fucking bit.”

I glanced up at Brody to see him handing the drink to Cal.

“Get someone to stick one of those drink-spiking swabs in there. Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

The relief of not being locked in that intense conversation with Nick finally thawed my panic, and I stood.

“You think he put something in my drink?” I asked. Honestly, I wasn’t surprised; he’d been far too insistent on my drinking it, and something about that sweet, slightly chemical smell had set off alarm bells. But the thought of Brody knowing for sure was a worry. What would he do?

“I know he did, sweetheart. I just need some proof before I get him kicked off the team.” Brody stared unyieldingly at Nick.

He didn’t flinch as Nick laughed loudly and got in his face. Tension spiked between them.

“Sweetheart?” Nick repeated, jumping on the endearment. “You call your stepsis sweetheart? How kinky of you.”

The Ice Gods had formed a loose circle behind Brody, and Winter came to stand beside me, taking my hand in hers.

“Do you even know who you’re defending?” Nick continued.

Pain lanced through me as he shot me a contemptuous side-eye. Oh, he definitely knew. His cop brother had told him everything. Shame crawled through me.

“Do you even know who you’re insulting?” Brody snapped back. “I’m warning you now to walk away, or it might be difficult for you. You’re off the team, whether I have to get you arrested for the drink or break both legs.”

Nick visibly paled, then puffed out his chest when he noticed the assembled crowd. “Yeah, right. My brother’s a cop; you can’t just threaten me?—”

“I’m Brody fucking Sinclair; I can threaten whoever I want. I could have ten lawyers at your brother’s quaint little small-town station before I even finished breaking those legs. The law doesn’t exist for men like me.”

Those words should have been terrifying. Of course, they were. But then Brody looked at me over Nick’s shoulder, and I felt no threat. I only felt safety.

Nick’s face was turning red, a marked contrast with his previous pale complexion. He laughed, but it sounded strained. He knew that Brody wasn’t exaggerating. He was rich and powerful enough to do whatever he wanted.

Nick held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Listen, man, there’s no need to get this worked up over a girl. You can have her, how’s that?”

Nick glanced at me, his lip curling. How had I not seen how much he disliked me? It seemed so obvious now.

He spat on the floor near my feet. “I’m not into damaged goods anyway.”

That was the last thing he said before Brody swung at him. Brody lunged, his fist flying and hitting Nick squarely across the jaw, and then everyone jumped in.

“Oh God. Men,” Winter muttered and hauled me back.

Seconds later, it was over. Cayden held Brody back and spoke low in his ear. Brody’s gaze fixed on Nick’s crumpled figure on the floor, anger visible in every line of his body. Somebody tried to help Nick up, but he was out cold.

Cal wandered up the rooftop stairs and waved a small strip in the air while staring down at his phone.

“It’s positive for benzodiazepines, probably Rohypnol,” he said, then stopped when he took in the scene before him. “What happened?”