Page 59 of The Pucking Player

Dmitri wipes his face with a towel, his expression serious. “Remember when I first joined the team? I stayed out in Brighton Beach for a while.”

I nod. Brighton Beach, also known as Little Odessa, is a slice of Russia right here in Brooklyn.

“Well,” he continues, “I met this guy there, Yuri. He was from Chelyabinsk, my hometown in Russia. We got to talking, and he mentioned he was working for a Russian businessman. Alexei Volkov.”

My brow furrows. “Okay, but what does that have to do with the PEDs?”

Dmitri’s eyes dart around the room, making sure we’re alone. “Yuri tried to pressure me into working for Volkov. Said it was easy money. They wanted inside informationabout injuries, team strategies, anything that could help them place more accurate bets. And...they wanted me to influence game outcomes.”

I feel my blood run cold. “The Bratva? “

Dmitri nods grimly. “I shut it down immediately. Told them I was still under contract withTraktor Chelyabinsk—that’s the KHL team I played for back home. The owner there, he’s got connections that even the Bratva won’t mess with. After I mentioned his name, they backed off.” He pauses, his expression hardening. “But Liam, I’m almost certain it’s them behind this PEDs business. Planting drugs and then betting against us? It’s their style.”

I feel my blood run cold as the implications sink in. “You really think they’ve gone this far? Actually planted evidence in our locker room?”

Dmitri nods, his massive shoulders tense. “I do. And now we need to figure out how to get them off our backs. They won’t stop at this, Liam. If we don’t do something, it’ll only get worse.”

“Christ,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “So, what do we do? Go to the police? I’ve got a friend working there.”

Dmitri shakes his head. “We need to be careful. These guys, they’re dangerous. We can’t just accuse them without solid evidence.”

I nod, my mind racing. “Okay, so we investigate. Quietly. See if we can find any connections between the Bratva and anyone among the Defenders.”

“Exactly,” Dmitri agrees. “And Liam? We keep this between us for now. The fewer people who know, the safer we all are.”

If Dmitri’s right, this goes way beyond a simple doping scandal.

“Dima,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “we need to talk about this more. But not now. Let’s focus on what we’re here for.”

He nods in agreement. As we turn back to the weights, my mind’s reeling.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get more complicated.

22

THE SETUP: PART TWO

SOPHIE

You know that feeling when your stomach drops like you’re on a roller coaster, but instead of being strapped into a fun ride, you’re stuck in your own personal nightmare?

Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel when my dad’s name pops up on my phone screen.

“Hey, Daddy,” I answer, trying to sound chipper. “What’s cooking, good-looking?” I chirp, trying to be playful. But he doesn’t bite.

“Sophie, sweetheart.” His voice is warm but with an ominous undercurrent. Or is this just my imagination? “I was hoping you could join me for lunch at the Defenders’ complex today.”

Oh, sweet baby Jesus.

This is it. He knows. He totally knows about me and Liam. I’m about to be exiled to a convent where I’ll have to shave my head and take a vow of silence.

“Um, lunch?” I squeak, my voice about three octaves higher than normal. “Today? I, uh, I have class and?—”

“It won’t take long,” he interrupts, and I can practically hear his eyebrows furrowing. “It’s important, baby girl.”

I glance at my watch, doing some quick mental gymnastics to figure out if I can squeeze in lunch without missing the labs. “Okay, Daddy,” I sigh, resigned to my fate. “I can swing by, but I can’t stay too long.”

“Perfect,” he exhales, sounding satisfied. “I’ll see you at noon.”

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