Page 93 of Pucking the Team

Vincent nods slowly. “So what’s your point? It sounds to me like the press correctly sussed out the relationship. When you called me, you said that someone was fucking with our team.”

I point to the photos on his desk. “These pictures were taken at a secluded, out-of-the-way restaurant in Miami, where Lukas and Ryan are not even notable public figures. We have all been incredibly discreet with our relationship, because the number one thing to each of us is this team. Whoever took these photos followed these three with the purpose of leaking these photos and causing a scandal for the team.”

Vincent interlaces his fingers on his desk, leaning in toward me. “That’s a big accusation. You’re saying that this was intentional? And you have proof of that?”

I nod, opening up the folder and pointing to Natalie’s documents. “Natalie traced the leaked pics back to Alison Cartwright.”

“The marketing manager and interim head of PR?” Vincent shakes his head, disbelief lacing his words. “Why on earth would she want to cause a problem that she’d then have to clean up?”

I scowl. “Sir, she hates Emma Collins. She has been antagonizing her since Emma started on the team at the beginning of the season. I think Emma has been trying to keep this from you but… she’s Jack Collins’s daughter.”

Vincent sucks in a shocked breath. I know he was the GM during Jack’s reign. He probably knew Emma as a little girl.

“Emma has been careful not to let anyone know who her father was,” I continue as he processes. “She wanted to be a part of this team but was worried about accusations of nepotism. She wanted to prove herself on her own merits. But I think Alison has known the truth since day one. A few months ago, someone defaced Emma’s cubicle with the words ‘nepo baby,’ and while I don’t have any proof on this allegation, I would place money that it was Alison.”

Vincent leans forward, scanning the evidence with a deepening scowl. I watch as realization sets in, his weathered face reddening beneath his salt-and-pepper crew cut.

“Jesus…” He runs a hand over his mouth. “So you’re saying Alison did all of this to sabotage Emma and have an excuse to fire her?”

“And she sullied the team in the process,” I add grimly. “She tried to publicly humiliate one of our own. It’s unforgivable.”

Vincent looks ready to put his fist through the wall. I know the feeling.

His gaze snaps to mine, eyes blazing. “I want that traitor out of my organization. Today.”

“Music to my ears.” I can’t keep the savage satisfaction from my voice. “But we need to make this right for Emma too. She deserves?—”

“Her job back, at bare minimum,” Vincent cuts in. “Along with a formal apology. God, I can’t believe Jack’s daughter has been working here all season, and I didn’t realize. I guess Emma’s right in some respects; I absolutely would’ve given my old friend’s kid some special treatment if I’d known. I owe it to him to look out for her.”

Pride surges in my chest. This is why I’ve been ride-or-die Blizzards for life. Loyalty like this is rarer than a playoff shutout.

“I knew you’d have her back, boss,” I say. “And I’m sure she’d be happy to have her social media job. But I also think you should know that Emma Collins has an incredible mind for strategy.”

Vincent raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What are you suggesting, Alex?”

I lean forward eagerly. “Emma has been coming to practices and studying game tape obsessively. She’s got insights into plays, matchups, tendencies—stuff that could give us a real edge. I think she could be an incredible asset to the video coaching staff.”

“Hmmm.” Vincent steeples his fingers, considering. “You know we don’t have an assistant video coach position currently. Budget cuts last year.”

“Then make one,” I argue passionately. “This team is on the cusp of being truly elite. Emma could help get us there. And it would be a chance for her to really shine, outside of her family name.”

Vincent nods slowly, wheels clearly turning. “Alright, let me think about it. But first, let me give HR a call about this Alison situation.”

I clear out of Vincent’s office, feeling relieved and energized. I’m thrilled that Emma is going to get the justice she deserves.

And I can’t wait to watch that fucker Alison get the perp walk out of this place.

Naturally, I called the guys to come watch, too. And told them to bring popcorn.

Slade, Ryan, Lukas, and I all huddle at the entrance to the marketing department. We’re like kids on Christmas morning, giddy with anticipation.

“Anyone see the bitch yet?” Lukas asks, craning his neck. We’ve been waiting for Alison to get back from lunch. Two burly security guards are waiting for her by her desk, along with Karen from HR.

Just then, Alison strolls in whistling, a smug smile on her lips. She doesn’t notice us at first, just breezes right past in her pencil skirt and stilettos. Her face is buried in her phone as usual.

But she stops dead when she sees the grim-faced men in suits and Karen flanking her cubicle. Her head snaps up, and she pales visibly.

“What’s going on?” she asks Karen, her voice quavering just a bit. Her gaze darts over to the security guards. “Who are you?”

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