Game Misconduct_A Baltimore Banners Hockey Romance

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "Sure I am. You just don't realize it yet." Danny lowered himself to the corner of the sofa and started retrieving the contents of her tote bag. Notepad, pens. Tablet. Another phone. A tangled mess of charging cords, a travel charger. Her e-reader. Ibuprofen. Several tampons. A dusty ponytail holder. Lip balm.

  Danny frowned at the last item then rolled his eyes as he tossed it into the bag. "It's not even tinted. You're giving women's purses a bad name. Where's your makeup? Your hairbrush? Spare condoms for those impromptu moments?"

  Lori snorted, the sound indelicate and definitely not feminine. "Yeah, right. Not like I'm going to need those anytime soon."

  "You will."

  "No, pretty sure I won't." She moved into the kitchen, unable to bear seeing even a hint of sympathy on Danny's face. She grabbed a bottle of water for him and a bottle of unsweetened tea for her then moved back to the living room, plopping down on the sofa with a sigh.

  Danny snagged the water from her hand. "You could have brought the wine instead, you know."

  "No. We have to be at the arena in two hours, remember?"

  "One glass wouldn't hurt. Hell, it might actually help calm you down. I don't think I've ever seen you bounce between so many different moods in such a short amount of time. It's like watching a ping pong match between two players on speed."

  "Still not helping."

  Danny uncapped the water bottle and took a long swallow, then shifted beside her. All traces of humor were gone, replaced with sympathy and understanding. "Just give him time. He'll come around."

  "Will he? Because I'm fairly certain he was pretty adamant about the whole thing."

  "He's just trying to protect you."

  "Do I look like I need protecting?"

  "No. But you have to give him credit for trying."

  "Yeah, I know." And she did. On some very basic level she didn't even want to acknowledge, she understood what he was trying to do. That didn't mean she had to agree with it. And it certainly didn't mean she had to like it. She said as much to Danny.

  "Like I said: give him time."

  "Danny, the last time I gave him time, he was gone for eight years. I can't wait that long again."

  "Then don't."

  "I don't have a choice. It's not like I can force him to change his mind."

  "Maybe you can."

  Hope flickered somewhere deep inside, hope she didn't want to acknowledge. "How?"

  "I'm not sure. I'm still thinking."

  "Yeah, you're really full of help today, aren't you?" She pushed off the sofa and moved toward the door. "I'm bringing my laptop in. We can start scheduling some of the posts for tonight, at least for when the Blades are on the ice for the intermission."

  "They're going to be there for the first intermission?"

  "Yeah. But tonight's going to be a little different—they're going to be working with one of the Mites team from the Hopewell League that the Banners help sponsor. I want to get the background posts ready for those now." She yanked open the door then stopped, swearing under her breath.

  "What is it? More snow?" Danny appeared by her side, peering out the door, frowning when clear skies greeted him.

  "No, not snow. It's my neighbor."

  "The one who—"

  "Yeah. Her." Lori clenched her jaw, ignoring the woman's wave as she climbed out of a brand-new sports car that cost close to six figures. "She made a point of telling me she just bought a new car and that she was planning on moving."

  "She actually told you that?"

  "Yeah, she did. And she laughed about it. She sees nothing wrong with what she did." Lori's hand tightened around the doorknob. "I would give anything to be able to teach her a lesson."

  "Maybe you can." Danny's voice was quiet, thoughtful. She turned around, frowning at the speculation on his face.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Do you think you can manage to get her cell phone?"

  "What? No, not even close. Are you crazy? Why would she give me her cell phone? And why would I even need it?"

  "I just have a feeling they're might be some interesting videos on it, that's all."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "Just a hunch."

  "Well, hunch all you want. There's no way she'd give me her cell phone."

  "Then maybe we should make our own video."

  "Danny, what are you talking about? You're not making any sense. At all."

  He grinned, the biggest grin she'd ever seen on him before, one filled with enough cold calculation that she actually took a step back. He pulled the phone from his pocket and tossed it in the air. Caught it in his palm and tossed it again before finally folding his fingers around it.

  "How good are you at pushing buttons?"

  She tilted her head to the side, trying to figure out what he was up to. "What kind of buttons?"

  "Oh, you know. The blackmail kind."

  "You mean—"

  "I'm thinking maybe she needs a taste of her own medicine. What do you think?"

  Lori glanced at the phone in Danny's hand—the one tied to all of the team's social media. Then she looked over at her neighbor, who was busy pulling shopping bags emblazoned with names of designer stores from the trunk of the new car.

  She turned back, not bothering to hide her anger. "I think I can manage to push some pretty big buttons."

  He nodded, then gave her a meaningful look. "We'll probably get fired."

  "You think?"

  "Pretty good chance, yeah."

  Lori pretended to think about it then finally shrugged, as if she didn't care in the least. "I was getting tired of that cramped cubicle anyway."

  "Yeah, me too."

  "And I could always move back home if I needed to."

  "I suppose."

  "Or we could just become roommates, save some money that way."

  "There is that."

  Lori nodded one last time, still not sure what they were going to do, but knowing she needed to do something. "Okay then. Let's do it."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Caleb Johnson burst into the locker room, practically running in his skates. He tossed down his stick and helmet, his eyes frantic as he looked around the room. "Holy shit, I need a phone. Somebody hand me their phone."

  Conversation paused as everyone stared at him, then just as quickly resumed when they ignored him.

  "I'm fucking serious. I need a phone. Now."

  "Dude, calm the fuck down. You know we aren't allowed to have phones in here."

  "Can it, Jaxon. I know that. Just like I know at least one of you assholes has one squirreled away somewhere." Caleb glanced around the phone, finally zeroing in on Brendan. "Hayes, give it up. I know you have one."

  "No way. I know better—"

  "Bullshit. Just give me the damn phone."

  Corbin turned away from the commotion, ready to move down the hall. His focus was off, had been off since warm-ups. He knew why, knew the only thing that would help was time.

  But he didn't have time, not for the game. So he was heading back to the end of the hall, away from everyone else. Back to where it was quiet, where he could be by himself and work on his focus. Bounce a few balls off the concrete wall, center himself as he followed their movement—

  A hand nabbed the sleeve of his jersey, stopping him, "Whoa, hang on, Gauthier. You can't go anywhere."

  "I need to—"

  "You don't need to do anything but see this." Caleb was tapping the screen of the phone in his hand, frowning as he searched for...something.

  Corbin tried to pull his arm free once more but the other man refused to release it. He made a small sound of triumph, then held the phone closer to Corbin.

  Closer to the knot of players who gathered around, pulled in by curiosity and Caleb's strange behavior.

  He looked around, addressing no one in particular. "Shannon gave me the heads-up before they hit the ice. There's something big going down." His eyes shifted to Corbin. "And it's about you."


  Dread filled him, cold and immediate. What? What could possibly be happening now? He hadn't done anything. Hadn't been anywhere for anything to happen. Unless...did it have something to do with the incident? The settlement? Had something else happened that he wasn't aware of? He hadn't heard anything from his lawyer, but his phone had been off for the last two days. It had been easier to leave it off, so he couldn't call Lori. Couldn't text her. Couldn't tell her what a fool he'd been...and still was.

  Had he missed something else because of that? Was he about to be blindsided by something even worse?

  "Listen up. Here it is." Caleb pointed to the screen, too small for everyone to clearly see it. But Corbin could see it. How could he not, when the other man was practically standing on top of him, shoving the phone in his face?

  It was a live feed, on one of the many social media outlets. And it was being broadcast from right here at the arena, in the middle of the concourse upstairs. The camera zoomed in on a woman in her twenties, with pale eyes and thick, dark hair, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that swallowed her small frame. She was talking to a small group of people, showing them something on the tablet in her hands. Then she looked over at the camera and smiled, acting as if she'd been caught by surprise.

  "Oh, hey guys. TR Meyers here—"

  Caleb looked around, addressing them as a group. "She's the one who's been working on a story about Shannon and the rest of the Blades. She has this video thing she does every week—"

  "Shut up, we can't hear."

  Caleb muttered something and adjusted the volume, but it still wasn't loud enough—which only meant that everyone gathered around them was unnaturally quiet.

  "—So thanks for humoring me for a little bit. You can still get the information about the Hopewell League and the wonderful work they're doing by checking out their website, along with the Banners' website.

  "But right now, I want to talk about something else. Something that's just as important. And if you guys will just bear with me for a second—" The camera followed the woman as she approached another group of fans. "Would you guys mind if I showed you something and asked your opinion about it?"

  There was some good-natured mumbling and laughter, followed by agreements from all five people—three men and two women. Corbin frowned, glanced around and saw similar expressions of confusion on his teammates' faces when the woman—TR—played something on her tablet for the small group.

  Cries of astonishment echoed around the group. One guy laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Whoa. She really nailed her, didn't she?"

  TR leaned closer. "So would you consider that assault?"

  The group nodded in unison, one of the men speaking for all of them. "Oh yeah, absolutely. No doubt. Guilty."

  "How about this? Would you call this assault?" TR tapped the tablet, turning it back to the group once more. Whatever they were being shown drew mixed reactions this time.

  Corbin's stomach knotted. He broke out in a cold sweat as waves of nausea rolled over him. He knew, without even seeing, what video the woman was showing the group. Knew it with a certainty that sickened him. He needed to leave, to get out of here, to run—but Caleb held him in place.

  "No, just watch. It's not what you think. I know it isn't." But even Caleb didn't sound certain.

  Corbin's gaze moved back to the screen, watching as the group struggled to reach a consensus. The two women agreed it was assault, while two men disagreed. The third man wasn't sure.

  By this time, other people had gathered around and TR quickly showed them both videos—Corbin had no idea what the first one was, could only imagine it was something blatant, something pulled off the internet or maybe even a clip from a movie. And the reactions from the newcomers were the same in both cases.

  TR's voice was bright and cheerful, matching the smile on her face as she addressed the sill-growing crowd around her. "You guys have been great, thank you. I know you're in a hurry to get back but if you could just hang out for a few more minutes for me. Would you mind? Great, thank you so much."

  She turned back to the camera, her natural smile dimming just a bit. "I know you guys watching are dying to see what I'm showing everyone, so here it is." She turned the tablet around, holding it still while the camera moved in closer. The video was taken from a distance, showing two women in a heated discussion. Corbin frowned, leaning closer as the camera zoomed in, showing more of the women's faces. No, it couldn't be. Was that Lori? But why—

  The woman she was with swung out with her fist, hitting Lori in the face hard enough that she stumbled and fell to one knee.

  Corbin jerked back, stunned. What the fuck? What. The. Fuck? Anger rushed through him, stealing his breath. He wanted to race out, to find the woman who had hit Lori. To find Lori, make sure she was okay—

  A hand dropped to his shoulder, holding him in place before he realized he had even moved. He didn't care, tried to brush it off—only the next video appeared on the screen, one that made his stomach heave. It was the same short clip of that meaningless kiss, the one that had cost him so much. Not in terms of money—but in terms of everything else.

  The camera panned back out, showing TR and an even larger group surrounding her. "Like everyone here, I'm pretty sure all of you have pretty firm opinions on those two brief clips. The first one we're saying is definitely assault. Wouldn't you agree?"

  She turned to face the group as all heads nodded in agreement. "And the second one...well, we still seem to be torn on that one, aren't we guys? Although it's pretty interesting that most of the women are on one side with the men on the other. And that, ladies and gentlemen, I'll address in a minute."

  She glanced down at the tablet, her fingers gliding over the screen before turning it toward the camera. "Now I want everyone to see the rest of the first clip. I think it might give you a little more insight to the second."

  The camera panned in again, showing Lori talking to the other woman. Corbin looked closer, recognized the woman as Dawn Lowry. And the video was being filmed from outside Lori's house.

  There was volume to this one as well, clearly audible. Corbin listened, anger mingling with amazement as Lori spoke to the woman.

  "What you did was wrong and you know it. How can you live with yourself?"

  "Really? Did you see the new car? These clothes? Trust me, that much money can go a long way in easing a woman's conscience."

  "But you set him up. Threatened him—"

  "Oh please. Don't get so righteous with me. So what if I set him up? He's not the first and he won't be the last. And it's not like he can't afford it."

  "So you admit it? You actually admit it. There was no assault."

  "Of course not. But a picture's worth a thousand words, isn't it? And video is worth so much more—especially when it's edited."

  "You bitch. You crazy, psychotic, bleached-blonde bitch—"

  Corbin flinched as a fist connected with Lori's face, anger and nausea twisting his gut even though he had known it was coming. Why would she do such a thing? Why would Lori put herself at risk that way? He needed to see her, go to her—

  The hand tightened on his shoulder, once more keeping him in place when he would have run off. He shook his head, looked back at the phone in Caleb's hand. The live feed was still going, the camera panning on the surprised faces of the group surrounding TR.

  "Have any of you changed your mind about that second clip, now that you've seen the rest of the first?" Heads nodded as people murmured in agreement. TR slowly nodded then turned back to the camera.

  "I'll post a link to the first clip in its entirety to this post later. I'd love to say I could do the same thing for the second, but there doesn't seem to be anything else except that small clip. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

  "And I think I'll start wrapping this up. We've got a game to watch. Just remember—sometimes there's more to the story than what you see, so keep that in mind. And guys? Seriously. Keep your hands—and your kisses—to yourself.
If we're interested, we'll let you know, okay? You'll save us—and maybe even yourself—a whole lot of trouble." She winked at the camera then gave a big thumbs-up. "Go, Banners!"

  "Holy shit, I think I'm in love." Someone—maybe Jaxon—said from somewhere behind them. Caleb laughed and tossed the phone back to Brendan.

  "Yeah, don't even think about it. I'm pretty sure she's got something going on with this big bad-ass military guy who looks like he eats tanks for breakfast." Caleb hesitated, wariness in his gaze as he frowned at something over Corbin's shoulder before looking at him. "She had close to ten thousand people watching by the end. I don't think you need to worry about anything hanging over your head now. That thing's going to go viral."

  Corbin nodded, not really caring. Yes, maybe this would help. But he didn't care. All he cared about was Lori. What had happened to her? Was she okay? He needed to go see her, to make sure—

  Once again, the hand on his shoulder tightened, keeping him from running off. Corbin finally brushed it off, turned around to tell Shane or Hunter or whoever it was to leave him alone, that he was fine, that he didn't need them holding him back.

  Coach Donovan stared back at him, his dark eyes as unreadable as always. No, that wasn't true. He saw sympathy in their depths, and a hint of the same concern rushing through Corbin.

  Coach glanced around the quiet locker room, his gaze briefly landing on each anxious face. "It's almost game time. I need you to hit the ice fighting. Are you ready to do that?"

  "Yes, Coach!" The shout echoed off the walls, loud and enthusiastic. Coach nodded then looked back at Corbin, his gaze never wavering.

  "How about you, Gauthier? Can you keep your fucking head in the game for forty minutes until we win this thing?"

  Corbin nodded, then threw Donovan's words back at him. "Can you?"

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was the longest fucking seventy-eight minutes of his life. He had raced off the ice as soon as the Banners won, not slowing down for the few reporters calling his name. The staff had quickly blocked him from being followed, telling anyone who would listen that a statement would be made tomorrow. By the team, maybe, but not by him. He had no intention of speaking with anyone tomorrow—not with anyone but Lori.