Page 40 of Bar Down

His phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Breakfast in 45 minutes. Need to talk before you hit the ice. Meet me in the hotel’s restaurant. We have a problem.

Marcus sat up immediately, his defenseman's instincts analyzing the implications of timing, wording, and the request for privacy. The most likely scenario: regret—Stephanie reconsidering their agreement. The thought hit him harder than a slapshot to the chest.

He texted back:Will be there in 30 minutes.

As he showered and dressed, wincing as hot water hit the bruise spanning his right shoulder blade, Marcus ran through possibilities like defensive coverage options. Yet beneath the analysis, an unfamiliar anxiety simmered—like pre-playoff jitters, but for something that actually mattered more.

Stephanie was nursing a cup of coffee and frowning into her laptop when he hurried into the restaurant.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

She turned the computer toward him, showing a notification that made his blood run cold:

SECURITY ALERT: Unauthorized access detected to primary analytics database. Duration: 142 minutes. Origin: External. Encryption compromised.

"Someone's hacked your system?"

"Not just access. Data extraction. The entire player analytics framework has been copied, including personal performance metrics not approved for organizational distribution."

“Our presentation? My data I compiled on all the players?” he said.

“All of it.”

"My data contains every weakness, limitation, and vulnerability I've documented on our players. Career-impacting information. And my personal notes."

Before he process the implications of what this could mean, Marcus received a text. He looked down at it. It was an unfamiliar number.

Spreadsheets—Your precious data belongs to me now. Every weakness, every flaw, every secret you've documented. In 72 hours, it all goes public unless you meet my demands. I've included a sample to prove I'm serious. Tick tock.

Attached was a single page of analytics on Kane—detailed breakdowns of his defensive weaknesses, injury vulnerabilities, and psychological pressure points. Information that could devastate their captain's next contract negotiation if made public.

"Reed," Stephanie said, certainty hardening her voice. "It has to be."

"We need to maintain appearances," Marcus said. "While we handle this threat."

Stephanie nodded, shifting into crisis management mode. "I’ve contacted our cybersecurity team and told them to be discrete.”

Marcus texted back to the number:What are your demands?

But he didn’t get an answer.

***

AFTER PROMISING HIMthat she wouldn’t go track down Reed and confront him, Marcus forced himself to concentrate only on hockey until the game was over. Back in his hotel room, he stared out the window, watching water streak across the glass. His muscles ached from the Toronto game—a crosscheck to the ribs in the third period had left a bruise that was turning an impressive shade of purple. But that pain was nothing compared to knowing someone had breached his data—the digital fortress he'd built to give his team an edge night after night.

A knock on his door had him brightening. He needed to see Stephanie right now like he needed to breathe. Unfortunately, Oliver Chen was at his door.

“Can I come in?"

He looked over Chenny’s shoulder, but didn’t see Stephanie in the hallway.

"Sure," Marcus said and headed over to the mini bar to grab him a beer.

"So," Chenny said casually, "you and Stephanie, huh?"

Marcus kept his expression neutral—the same blank face he used when refs made terrible calls. "We're collaborating on analytics integration for media purposes. As you know."

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