Page 120 of The Last Inch Of Ice
Jenkins looks at him for a long moment.
“I know,” Jenkins says quietly. “And I’m sorry. But there’s no one else who can do this. The investors trust you. Or at least, they’re willing to listen to you. You have a way with people, Kai. Even when you pretend you don’t.”
Kai feels something twist in his chest. The weight of expectation pressing down like it always does. He takes a breath, forces his shoulders to relax.
Then he reaches out and pats Jenkins on the shoulder—a gesture that feels absurdly paternal given that Jenkins is twenty years older than him.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice gentler now. “I’ll meet with them. You can count on me for that.”
Jenkins exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. “Thank you. Really. I—thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Kai waves him off. “Now go home. Get some sleep. You look like death warmed over, and it’s very depressing.”
He leaves Jenkins in the hallway and heads for the parking garage, his footsteps echoing in the concrete space.
The Taycan is exactly where he left it. He slides into the driver’s seat and just sits there for a moment, hands on the steering wheel, staring at nothing.
His phone is in his hand before he consciously decides to pick it up.
He pulls up Nazar’s contact. Stares at it.
His thumbs hover over the keyboard.
I miss you
Delete.
Tomorrow can’t come fast enough
Delete.
I need to ask you something and I’m terrified of the answer
Delete.
Nazar is supposed to arrive tomorrow. They’ll have more than a week together—the longest stretch of uninterrupted time they’ve had in four months. No games. Just them.
Kai should be ecstatic. Is ecstatic, mostly. But there’s this other thing gnawing at him.
The events that led to his father’s downfall unfolded with shocking speed and efficiency. Three weeks after that damning exposé hit the news—the one detailing decades of abuse, manipulation, financial crimes—criminal charges were filed. Two weeks ago, Doyle Callahan was arrested.
It shouldn’t have happened so fast. These things never happen this fast. Rich men like his father have lawyers who can delay cases for years.
But somehow, impossibly, his father’s entire empire collapsed in less than three months.
And Kai can’t shake the feeling that Nazar had something to do with it.
Which is crazy. Right? It’s crazy to think that Nazar—who plays hockey, who barely talks to anyone, who until recently was still trying to figure out how to use Instagram—could somehow orchestrate the downfall of one of the most powerful men in professional sports.
Except.
Except Kai remembers that night. The hotel room. His face pressed against Nazar’s chest, Nazar’s voice a low rumble against his hair:I swear to God, Kai. I am going to destroy your father.
At the time, Kai had thought it was just… words. The kind of thing people say when they’re angry and protective and don’t actually mean literally.
But now.
Now his father is in prison, and Nazar is arriving tomorrow.
