Page 141 of Dating Goals
Mikael Laakso stands rigid as a statue, eyes fixed on Chase’s mansion. The retired captain’s jaw clenches with every breath. “Six years,” he growls. “Six years watching him underpay staff and squeeze every penny while preaching fiscal responsibility.”
His wife Hannah loops her arm through his. “And now you get to see him in handcuffs.”
Coach Knight smacks a hockey stick against his palm rhythmically. “Should’ve known something was fishy when he started pushing player investment opportunities. Not exactly standard owner behavior.”
Kevin Tate checks his phone. “Leigh says to kick his booty extra hard for making her miss this. Baby’s not due for three weeks, but she’s not taking chances.”
Maggie laughs. “She said booty? That’s so Leigh.”
“We’re parents of toddlers,” Kevin deadpans. Our whole vocabulary consists of potty, ouchie, and uppy uppy.”
“Awww that’s so adorable,” Emily coos. Owen suspects she has baby fever.
Siobhan types on her tablet. “I’ve got eyes on his security system. Ready to disable on your signal.” She looks up. “Also, nobody tell the FIS I’m doing this. Super illegal.”
Showalter pretends not to hear her. “Plausible deniability,” he mutters.
Uncle Whitey adjusts his flat cap. “In me day, we’d just go in swingin’,” he says with his thick Irish brogue. “None of this digital nonsense.”
“In your day,” Sawyer counters, “phones were still attached to walls, Uncle Whitey.”
“And we liked it that way, boyo!”
“Everyone remember the plan?” I ask, surveying my friends.
Kevin Tate nods. “Distraction at the front gate while FIS enters through the back.”
“And no punching,” Liam adds, glancing pointedly at his brother Hendrix. “No matter how much Chase deserves it.”
“Speak for yourself,” Hendrix mutters.
Showalter’s headset blinks a red light. He listens, then gives me a curt nod. “Toronto teams are in position. We move in thirty seconds.”
I raise my stick slightly, and fifteen hockey sticks rise in unison behind me. We must look absolutely ridiculous. I love it.
Coach Knight grips his stick tightly, knuckles white. “Twenty-five years coaching, and I’ve never wanted to check someone into the boards more than Malcolm Chase.”
Uncle Whitey cracks his knuckles. “Remember, lads and lasses, go for the kneecaps first.”
“We’re not actually assaulting anyone,” Showalter clarifies with alarm. “This is a legal operation.”
“Right.” Uncle Whitey winks. “Legal kneecapping.”
“Remind me why we brought the actual mobster?” I whisper to Sawyer.
“Irish charm,” Sawyer winks. “Plus, he knows a guy who knows a guy who can make Chase’s offshore accounts very uncomfortable.”
“Fifteen seconds.”
Hannah pulls out her phone, snapping a quick photo of our assembled group. “This is going to break social media when it drops.”
“Delete that,” Mikael growls.
“Just kidding, Stern Daddy.” Hannah winks, tucking her phone away. “This is just for the Christmas card.”
Mikael shoots her a hard look, and she throws up her hands. “Kidding!”
“Ten seconds,” Showalter whispers and nods to Siobhan.
