Page 140 of Dating Goals
The mountain sun hasn’t fully risen, casting everything in a bluish predawn glow. Chase’s outdoor Christmas lights are still on, but it’s not Santa entering the house this morning. I feel like that guy inDie Hardeven though Christmas Eve isn’t until tomorrow.
“You sure about this, kid?” Showalter asks, checking his watch for the fifth time in two minutes. He’s decked out in tactical gear while I’m wearing jeans and a heavy Titans jacket. “You can still wait in the van.”
“Absolutely sure. Malcolm Chase stole from my teammates, manipulated the league, and indirectly got my girlfriend kidnapped by international criminals. This is personal.”
I nod toward my friends. “Besides, I’ve got my support system.”
When I called for backup, I expected maybe two or three friends to show up. Instead, I got the entire hockey mafia. Behind me stands the most unlikely strike force ever assembled. Half the Titans roster, three hockey wives, one hockey girlfriend (soon to be fiancée), one parrot, and an Irish mobster in a flat cap.
Otto the parrot chooses this moment to squawk from Maggie’s shoulder, causing several FIS agents to jump.
“Squawk off, Malcolm!”
“Otto! Shh!” Maggie covers his beak gently. “Sorry, he gets excited during raids.”
“During raids?” Showalter raises an eyebrow. “How many raids has this bird been on?”
Otto begins to sing “Bad boys, bad boys…”
“Ummm, none at all,” Maggie lies. “He’s neeeeever been on a raid.”
Sawyer’s uncle Whitey adjusts his Peaky Blinders cap and cracks his knuckles. “Reminds me of the Belfast job in ’99,” he muses with his thick Irish brogue. “Except we had less sports equipment and more explosives.”
Sawyer’s sister Siobhan elbows her uncle. “We’re here in an advisory capacity only, remember?”
“Right, right.” Uncle Whitey mimes zipping his lips. “Advisory only.”
Owen adjusts the GoPro strapped to his chest while Emily fiddles with the settings on her phone. “This is so going on my blog,” she whispers. “Anonymous source reveals Ponzi scheme takedown.”
I squint at her. “You still have that blog?”
Her eyes dart to the side. “Uh, no.”
“Remember sleuthing around the Blizzard Dome in the middle of the night?” Owen grins at his wife.
“Just like old times,” Emily squeaks, popping on tiptoe to kiss Owen.
Showalter looks incredulously at the whole group. “Who are you people?”
Colette raises her hand. “I’m a high school English teacher.”
“And I’m with her.” Hendrix paces nervously, constantly patting his jacket pocket.
Hendrix has been acting strange since he arrived yesterday. I know he’s got an engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket. He plans to propose tomorrow on Christmas Eve at the Gornergrat.
Colette watches him with amusement. “Are you sure you’re nervous about the raid and not something else?”
Hendrix nearly jumps out of his skin. “What? No! I mean, yes! The raid. Totally the raid.”
“Real smooth, bro,” Liam snickers, elbowing his brother. “The Nebraska Knights send their regards to this scumbag, by the way.”
The scumbag, of course, is Malcolm Chase. Liam is here standing in solidarity with his brother and all us Titans. He’s even sporting a Titans jersey, which is big of him considering the Knights are our sometimes rivals.
I take a deep breath, the cold air sharp in my lungs. Somewhere in Toronto, another team is preparing to raid the Blizzard Dome offices. A third group is positioned outside Chase’s Toronto residence. Three simultaneous strikes to ensure he can’t escape or destroy evidence.
“You good?” Owen asks, noticing my expression.
“Are you kidding? After taking down OMBRA, this is a walk in the park.”
