Just My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires by Esther Pen novel Chapter 302

My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires

Chapter 302

LEONIE’S POV

The high-pitched, deafening whine of twin jet engines echoed across the tarmac of the private airfield on the dark outer edge of the city.

Heavy, freezing rain lashed sideways against the tall glass windows of the executive terminal building as I paced back and forth across the polished concrete floor of the waiting lounge.

I wore a thick black trench coat, wide tinted sunglasses, and a silk scarf tied securely around my head and chin to hide my features.

Beside my designer leather boots sat a single black carry-on bag containing three forged foreign passports, half a million dollars in non-sequential cash, and three cold-storage hardware crypto wallets holding my entire stolen net worth.

I pulled back my coat sleeve and checked the small gold watch on my wrist for the tenth time in five minutes.

“Where is the pilot?” I muttered to myself under my breath, my fingers clutching my leather handbag so tightly that my knuckles turned completely white. “He said ten minutes. It has been over twenty minutes.”

My heart hammered a frantic, agonizing rhythm against my ribs. Every single noise made me jump. Every shadow moving past the tinted glass made my throat tighten with pure terror.

I had spent months playing both sides of this dangerous game. I had fed Julian the detailed blueprints to the Sterling estate, provided him with the military-grade signal jammer, and promised to be his escape driver waiting near the tree line.

But the moment Brandon Sterling’s private security swarmed the property and I heard the distant wail of police sirens, I didn’t hesitate. I threw my burner phone into the river, drove straight to my hidden safehouse, grabbed my emergency stash, and fled.

Julian was an irrational lunatic, and he was taking all the legal heat. He was weak, reckless, and completely blinded by his pathetic obsession with Aria.

By the time the police finished questioning him in that cold holding cell, I would be sitting on a private beach in a country without an extradition treaty, living off the millions I had drained from the Vance Group’s

accounts.

The heavy glass door leading out to the runway unlocked with a loud, electronic buzz.

A tall man in a navy blue pilot’s uniform stepped inside, shaking raindrops from his captain’s hat and wiping his wet brow.

“Miss Vance?” the pilot asked, his voice calm and professional.

“It is about time,” I snapped, stepping forward immediately and picking up my heavy carry-on bag. “Is the aircraft fueled and fully cleared for departure?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the pilot replied, holding the heavy glass door open for me. “The flight plan to South America

1/4

has been processed and approved by air traffic control. We just need to board quickly before this thunderstorm gets any worse.”

A massive wave of pure, intoxicating relief rushed through my veins. A quiet, cruel smile touched my lips beneath my dark sunglasses. I had done it. I had won.

Julian was behind bars, the Vance family was drowning in headline news scandals, and I was walking away completely clean with millions of dollars.

“Lead the way,” I said, lifting my chin high as I stepped past him out onto the wet tarmac.

The cold rain stung my face like tiny needles as I walked quickly toward the sleek white Gulfstream jet parked fifty yards away. The boarding stairs were lowered, warm yellow light spilling out from the open cabin door onto the wet ground.

I took three fast, triumphant steps toward the metal stairs and then stopped dead in my tracks. The loud, roaring engine sound of two heavy black SUVS cut through the howling storm.

Before I could react or even make a run for the open cabin, the two massive vehicles tore around the corner of the hangar, their heavy tires screeching violently against the wet concrete.

They spun out in a tight, coordinated arc, completely blocking off the airstrip runway and boxing me in tightly against the side of the airplane.

My breath hitched violently in my throat. My heavy carry-on bag slipped from my frozen fingers, crashing onto the wet tarmac with a dull thud.

“What is this?” I screamed over the roar of the rain and jet engines, backing away toward the plane stairs. “What is going on?”

The side doors of the black SUVs flew open simultaneously. Four heavy-set federal marshals stepped out into the downpour, their dark rain jackets clearly displaying bold, glowing yellow letters across their chests: FEDERAL AGENTS.

Behind them stepped a tall, broad-shouldered man in a sharp black suit holding a wide black umbrella.

Marcus. Brandon Sterling’s chief of security.

Marcus walked forward with slow, deliberate steps, his face completely cold and devoid of any emotion. He stopped ten feet away from me, looking down at my trembling body with pure, unadulterated disgust.

“Leonie Vance,” Marcus said, his deep baritone voice carrying easily over the sound of the rain and spinning turbines. “Or should I call you by the name on that fake Panama passport sitting inside your bag?”

“You have no right to stop me,” I shrieked, my voice turning high, thin, and hysterical as I backed up another step onto the wet metal stairs. “I am a private citizen! I am boarding a chartered private flight!”

“You are a prime suspect in a federal financial fraud investigation, multi-million-dollar money laundering, and criminal conspiracy to commit corporate espionage,” one of the federal marshals announced loudly, stepping forward and pulling a thick white paper document from his inner coat. “We have a federal warrant for your immediate arrest, signed by a circuit judge an hour ago.”

214

10:54 Fri, Aug 28

My Hockey Roommate’s Filthy Desires

55 vouchers

My legs turned to lead. My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. “No. No, this is a massive mistake! It was Julian! Julian planned the whole thing! He broke into the Sterling house! I didn’t do anything!”

Marcus let out a quiet, bitter sound that sounded like a cold laugh.

“Julian is a pathetic fool, but you are the snake who fed him the poison,” Marcus said coldly, stepping closer until his dark shadow completely fell over me.

“Dominic tracked your offshore bank transfers two hours ago. Every single dollar you stole from the Vance Group shell accounts to fund this escape has been frozen by the government. You aren’t flying anywhere, Leonie.”

“Wait!” I pleaded, my fake composure completely shattering into pieces as hot tears mixed with the cold rain on my face. I dropped heavily to my knees on the wet metal stairs, clutching my hands together in front of my chest.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify