Page 127 of The Blame Game

“Honestly, I’d like to take Audra home,” Dom said.

Kate nodded. “That would be fine. It’s the end of the evening so I don’t think too many people will even notice.”

“Thank you.”

“But what about Mark?” Dustin said. “I know he didn’t do anything criminal but I feel uneasy having a guy like that on the staff.”

He glanced between Kate and Dom and Dom knew they were all thinking about what had happened in Evanston a few seasons ago. This wasn’t the same but it felt uncomfortably close.

And there was the Code of Conduct now. Maybe the asshole had forgotten it applied to everyone employed to the NHL, not just players.

Kate sighed. “Well, I’m going to have to think about what to do about Mark. I’ll get back to you about it when I have some ideas.”

Dom nodded. “Sounds good.”

Kate pulled a card out of her purse and handed it to Audra. “If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to contact me.”

“Thank you.”

Kate looked her in the eye. “I am sorry this happened. I am normally very proud to work for this organization but sometimes a few bad apples need to be rooted out before they spoil everything.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” Audra said.

With that, everyone said goodnight and went their separate ways.

It wasn’t until Dom spotted Birdie, Mitchell, and a guy Dom didn’t recognize chatting in the hallway that Dom remembered that Mark Goodwin was Mitchell’s father.

A jolt went through Dom.

What did that mean? Was there some connection? It seemed unlikely it was a coincidence but this gossip leak had been going on for a while now. Before anyone on the team or in the organization knew about Dom and Shea’s involvement.

Hell, it was long before Dom had met Audra.

How could there be a connection?

As they approached, Birdie and Mitchell both waved. “Headed out?” Birdie asked brightly.

“Yes.” Audra smiled.

“It’s my fault,” Dom said, wanting to test something out. “My back isn’t feeling up to it.”

Concern flickered across Birdie’s face. “I’m so sorry. Do you know what’s going on yet?”

“No. They think it might be a herniated disc though.”

“Oh no!” Birdie winced. “I’m sorry, Dom. That sounds awful.”

“Thanks.” He glanced around the circle of people. “Don’t tell anyone though. Wouldn’t want it getting out to the gossip sites, you know?”

Birdie grimaced. “Of course. Sorry you’re having to deal with all of that.”

“Thanks,” he said, studying the other two people’s faces. “I appreciate that.”

There was a flicker of something in Mitchell’s eyes, gone too fast for Dom to interpret, so he glanced at the third man.

Mitchell was about Birdie’s age—twenty-three or so—but this guy was older. Closer to Dom’s age. Maybe mid-thirties.

He was the sort of guy Dom would glance at and barely register. So nondescript he looked like every other white guy with dull brown hair and blue eyes.

---