Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Brody swallowed. His gut was suddenly burning, but he couldn’t figure out if he felt angry, betrayed or relieved. He studied Wyatt’s face. “How did you know Sheila was telling the truth?”
“I had my suspicions at the beginning of the season, when we lost a couple games we had no business losing. Sheila only confirmed it.” Wyatt exhaled slowly, his breath coming out shaky. “I can’t play on the same team as a few assholes that would sabotage us for money. I can’t play for an owner who is willing to cheat.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
Brody believed him. He didn’t want to believe him, but it was impossible not to hear the sincerity, the integrity, rippling in Wyatt’s voice. The man seemed legitimately torn up about all this.
“You know who took the bribes, then?” Brody asked, a sick feeling crawling up his spine.
Wyatt quickly averted his eyes. “Just drop it, Brody. Let the league conduct its investigation. You don’t want to get involved in this.”
“Craig…”
“I’m serious. It’ll all get cleared up eventually. Just…drop it.” Wyatt stepped toward the door. “Now get your ass out there. We’ve got a game to win.”
Brody watched the other man stalk off. A part of him wanted to run after Wyatt and shake the names out of the guy, but another part was telling him to let it go. Trying to force Wyatt to confide in him wouldn’t achieve anything. Craig would just get angrier, more volatile, and the last thing Brody wanted to do was piss him off, not before one of the most important games of their season. This was do or die. Win or kiss the Cup goodbye. He needed his captain focused on the game, not on personal shit.
And he needed to focus on the game, too. Lately, he’d spent too much time worrying, doubting his fellow players, wondering if his career would be blown to hell by the scandal. He had the truth on his side, the knowledge that he’d played clean and hard all season, but that didn’t mean shit. Guilty by association, or whatever the hell they called it.
He would be a free agent in a few months, but another franchise might be loath to pick him up knowing he’d been investigated for bribery. All he could hope was that the investigation was quick, painless, and that his name wouldn’t be dragged through the mud for something he hadn’t done.
Cursing softly, he left the locker room and headed down the tunnel. When he entered the arena, the deafening cheers of the crowd assaulted his eardrums. The Lincoln Center was filled to capacity tonight, the bleachers a sea of silver and blue. Seeing all the fans warmed Brody’s heart, but it also renewed his anger.
All these fans who’d come out here tonight—the people yelling words of encouragement, the kids wildly clapping their hands. They deserved a team they could be proud of.
Unfortunately, there was very little to feel proud about, especially when ten minutes into the first period, the Warriors were already down by two goals.
And it was one of those games that went from bad to worse. The Kodiaks cleaned the ice with the Warriors. By the second period, Brody was drenched in sweat, gasping for air and wanting to bodycheck everyone from the refs to his coach. It didn’t even seem to matter how fast they skated, how many times they rushed the net, how many bullets they slapped at the Colorado goalie. The opposing team was faster, sharper, better. They had the advantage of good morale on their side.
When the third period rolled around, Brody could tell most of his teammates had given up.
“This is bad,” Becker muttered once they’d sunk down onto the bench after a line change.
Brody squirted a stream of water into his mouth then tossed the bottle aside. “Tell me about it,” he muttered back.
He could feel the entire season slipping away with each second ticking off the clock. They were down by three goals. Three fucking goals. With ten minutes left in the third. It was the kind of uphill battle that rarely had a good outcome.
The ref’s whistle pierced the air, and Brody looked over to see who’d taken a penalty. Wyatt. Goddamn it.
There was no more time for chatting as Coach Gray tossed them both back onto the ice for the penalty kill, and although Becker scored a ridiculously incredible shorthanded goal, it wasn’t enough. The buzzer went off, indicating the end of the third period and the game. The final score was 4–2, Kodiaks.
The Warriors were out of the playoffs.
Twenty-Five
It didn’t take a genius to figure out the Warriors had lost the game. Hayden could see it on every face that left the Lincoln Center. Her father was probably devastated.
She was tempted to go up to the owner’s box and offer some sort of condolences, but she was in no mood to see her dad right now. If she were, she’d be inside the arena instead of loitering in the parking lot and waiting for Brody.