Page 282 of Wrong Pucking Player

“That’s just one out of many scenarios that prove Jayce Winchester is more concerned about his own hockey career than the team’s. He doesn’t care about the Saskatchewan Pincer’s end game. All he wants to ensure he reaches the end, so he can secure his contract.”

“A shame,” Mr. Tobias admits. “He has potential, but like you said, he’s not a team player.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys.

Then he’s unlocking my cell.

“Huh?” I’m left completely confused as I look at Mr. Tobias, who smiles comfortingly back at me.

“When Armani almost threw a tantrum in Officer Klettskarð’s office after finding out you were locked in a jail cell, I realized for the first time that he actually was in love with someone,” he reveals and opens the gate.

Encouraging me to come out, I struggle to get up, realizing how exhausted my limbs really are. Despite my weakness, I fight my screaming body to rise to my feet and walk out to face Mr. Tobias.

“I’ve seen Armani be infatuated in another and think that’s what love really is. He’d do anything to protect that person, but I could tell that individual didn’t see him in the same limelight,” he admits as he looks down at me. “But I noticed from the moment I met you at the benches that you loved Armani for who he really is and wanted the best for him. You not only saw the vision he’s been yearning to grasp but pushed him toward his dreams, knowing it’s where he shines brightest.”

“How?”I begin and stare at this man questioningly. “Who are you to Oliver and Armani?”

His smile is priceless while his eyes darken just a bit.

I don’t feel a sense of danger, but I can tell this man has a switch because I feel as though I just witnessed him change personalities right before me.

“You’re a fast thinker,” he praises as he slips his hand inward to retrieve a card. Offering it to me, I take it with caution while my eyes quickly scan the card.

And widen.

“By day, I’m known as Chief Tobias DeCosta of Strattonville Police Force. No one sees me much because I have a decoy chief who does emergency calls, but he’s been rather a nuisance as of late.” He shakes his head at that before his smile only grows. “After hours, I’m the name on the card.”

I stare at the matte black card with fine gold and red cursive that carries a holographic ombré effect.

Tobias Salvatore. CEO of Blood Rock Club & Bar.

“You own Blood Rock,” I mutter while my mind is piecing things together. “New owner?”

“Why would you suspect that?”

“I remember the old spot. Sketchy as fuck with a scary basement.”

Wait. Scary basement? Why do I know that again?

“I decided to invest in it for the sake of keeping business flowing consistently. The previous owners were drilling it to the ground, but you can see the significant difference in its popularity and increase in sales for the business’ lifespan,” he acknowledges. “Besides, it’s a good place to discuss business. Don’t you think?”

“You’re right,” I agree, but know this talk is just a distraction. “Why do you want me to have this?”

“In case you need my aid for whatever reason,” he announces. “Call that code at the bottom, and the line should go directly to me. That offering goes to Armani as well, but he really dislikes relying on me. A shame, really? He leans on his brother but won’t bug his old man. One day, I hope we’ll mend this relationship.”

“You’re Armani’s dad,” I confirm while noticing the resemblances. “Stepdad.”

“Biological,” he surprisingly reveals. “Someone decided my children should be abducted, deemed as orphans, and abandoned to fend for themselves in this cruel world. A new trend it seems since trafficking the children wouldn’t be as beneficial when they’re from well-off families. Now that I’ve found them, they think I’m but a scam, ready to destroy their lives when they least expect it.”

“More like, can’t fathom you being their actual Dad when you saved them from whatever madness they endured,” I summarize. “Don’t blame them. I wouldn’t trust you, either.” That makes me laugh.

“I like you, Androsov. You have your father’s humor.”

“My… father,” I whisper. “And Androsov?”

“Russian name of your heritage. Andrews is the English surname used. Many wouldn’t see the cooperation, but I was there when your father was suggesting the importance of it for your birth certificate.”

No way.

“You know my parents.”

---