Page 100 of The Pucking Player

“He stopped being my father the day he told me hockey was beneath our family’s dignity.” Andrei’s smile is all edges. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it? He made me learn business instead of hockey, and now I’m using that business knowledge to take him down.”

He turns the laptop toward us. “Everything’s here. Account numbers, dates, names. Even Martinez’s full confession—turns out fear of the Russian Bratva is a great motivator for keeping records.”

“Why give this to us?” I ask, suspicious.

“Because,” He glances at the Defenders jersey on the wall, “some things are more important than family loyalty. Like protecting the game we love.”

My phone buzzes. A text from Mike:

[Mike]:Got everything. Units moving in.

“Your father’s men—”I start.

“Are busy dealing with a ‘situation’ at our warehouse in Queens.” Andrei’s grin turns wicked.

Sirens wail outside. Footsteps thunder up the stairs.

“You should leave now,” Andrei says calmly, closing his laptop. “Back exit through there. I’d rather not explain to father how I helped take him down. At least not until he’s in handcuffs.”

“You’ll testify?”

“Better.” He tosses me a thumb drive. “I’ll provide documented evidence. Much harder to argue with paper trails than witness statements.”

As Dmitri and I head for the exit, I turn back. “That goal celebration? The celly you said needs work?”

“Yeah?”

“Watch Friday’s game. I’ve got something special planned.”

His laugh follows us down the back stairs. “Make it good, O’Connor. I’ll be watching from the family box, might be my last chance before father disowns me.”

“You’ll have season tickets in perpetuity from now on. We’ll make sure of it.”

Outside, Mike’s waiting by the van, looking like he’s aged ten years. “You two are either the luckiest sons of bitches alive, or the dumbest. I haven’t decided which.”

“Why not both?” Dmitri suggests cheerfully.

I hand Mike the thumb drive, my mind racing ahead. To tomorrow’s game and to Sophie. But first, it’s time to pay her a visit.

34

SPRING BREAK MY HEART

SOPHIE

“Tell me you didn’t.” I stare at my phone in horror as the dating app notification pops up. “Jenna Marie Roberts, tell me you did not just create a Hinge profile for me.”

“What?” Jenna doesn’t even look up from where she’s meticulously organizing her vacation outfits by occasion. Beach Day. Pool Party. Club Night. Walk of Shame. “You’ll thank me when you’re having a hot Miami fling with a Latin lover named Diego.”

“Diego?” I chuck a bikini at her head.

“Fine. Chad the investment banker who has a yacht.” She catches the bikini and adds it to her ‘maybe’ pile. “Though personally, I’m rooting for Diego.”

We’re sitting on my dorm room floor, surrounded by enough swimwear to stock a boutique and the remains of our sad attempt at getting a head start on packing for Saturday’s Miami trip. ESPN drones in the background, the commentators dissecting tomorrow night’s historic game potential.

“The New York Defenders could set a franchise recordfor most wins in a season,” the anchor announces, “led by Captain Liam O’Connor’s incredible performance these past few weeks...”

I aggressively fold a sundress, definitely not thinking about how good Liam looks in his pre-game interviews. Or how his voice gets all gravelly when he’s tired. Or how he?—

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