Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1)

by Jami Davenport

  She’d been ready to rip him a new one when he’d gone barreling into the locker room. He almost laughed. He loved her fire and didn’t hold her anger against her. In fact, he appreciated that she held the team above pleasing him and the new ownership, not knowing, of course, that he was the new ownership.

  Maybe his tactics had been a little high-handed, and when he took actual possession of the team, he’d never pull that crap on a coaching staff he’d hired. He’d trust them completely to carry out his mandate of building an NHL dynasty, because he’d settle for nothing less, and he’d force himself to have the patience to wait for it.

  Ethan had his eyes on a new coach, assuming he didn’t keep the existing coach, and he doubted he would. Ferrar was old school, a lot like Lauren’s father. Ethan was not. That’d be a problem, possibly an insurmountable one. Lauren, on the other hand, got it. She understood the value of the new types of statistics to measure the immeasurable. She also shared many similar opinions on the players, not that he’d been able to hear much in the way of criticism from her, but once he earned her trust, he suspected the floodgates would open.

  Deserving her trust would be the hard part, especially when he was a lying bastard about his intentions and his identity, but Ethan often got what he wanted by sheer force of will. He’d do it this time, too. Sure, she’d be pissed as hell when she found out who and what he was, but she’d come around to his way of thinking when she realized how sincere he was about building this team.

  Ethan’s phone rang, and he walked back inside to pick it up. It was Brad. “What the fuck are you doing up?”

  “Hell, the night’s still young. I’m on Pacific time, remember? I haven’t even gone to bed yet.”

  Oh, yeah, he remembered. Brad played the part of a perpetual frat guy, always looking for the next party, even at thirty-two years old. Yet the gregarious Brad was the perfect front man for the hockey ownership. Everyone loved Brad, and he won a lot more points than straight-forward, driven Ethan ever would.

  “So we’ve got company, buddy,” Brad said.

  “What kind of company?” Sometimes Brad didn’t make a lick of sense.

  “Competition.”

  Ethan was getting exasperated with Brad’s short answers, designed to draw out the drama. “What competition?”

  “For the team.”

  “The team is ours.”

  “They don’t know that, and when they find out they didn’t get a chance to make an offer, all hell will bust lose.”

  “And I care about this why?”

  Brad hesitated, most likely for emphasis and to tax Ethan’s patience, which he loved to do. “A couple reasons—this other group comprises hockey guys who’d keep the team in Florida, and the figurehead of this group is Lon Schneider.”

  “Lauren’s father.” Ethan absorbed this bit of information; small as it might seem, it was a potential blockbuster.

  “He’s a legend, and when it’s announced his group has been passed over, we’ll be even bigger villains,” Brad said.

  “Shit.” Ethan knew this move would be tough, but disrespecting a group of heavy-hitters like that would be a potential powder keg across the league. Not that anyone in Seattle would give a rat’s ass, but the rest of the league sure as hell would. He had so wanted to play nice with the other teams, come across as a white knight rescuing a struggling franchise. Instead he’d be the outsider yanking the team out from under a city and an ownership group with sympathy on their side.

  He was surprised the commissioner had the guts to do this; hopefully it was a purely political move as Ethan had the man’s blessing along with the Sleezers’ signatures.

  He’d considered the sale a done deal, except for the formalities.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  This binding contract might be unravelling before his eyes, and Lauren could very well be right in the middle of it all.

  * * * *

  Lauren couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned most of the night. In all her thirty years, a simple touch had never affected her like Ethan’s. He’d grabbed her hand as a gesture to emphasize how much he wanted her on his team, not how much he wanted her in his bed. No matter, her fertile imagination didn’t need more than that to work with. Her brain took his simple gesture and elevated it to a whole new level in her dreams and her imagination.

  When her phone rang at five-thirty AM, she answered it, grateful for an interruption. “Hi, Dad, what’s up?” The early hour didn’t alarm her. Her father often called at all hours to talk about an exciting prospect he’d found in the minors or vent his frustrations with the latest dumb-ass move by the Sleezers.

  Lon Schneider worked as the head scout for the Giants. A former NHL great, he was a shoo-in for the Hall of Fame, and the mere mention of his name opened doors wherever he went. “Honey, tell me I misunderstood your message about possible new ownership for the team.” Her father had been in Canada scouting some high school kids so he’d been out of the loop. He hated technology and rarely checked mail or answered his cell when he was heads down and sniffing out a diamond on the rink.

  “It’s true. The league has given the Sleezers an ultimatum. No more bailouts. They have to sell the team after the season ends.”

  “And they’re giving some asshole the red carpet treatment because he represents an anonymous billionaire owner?”

  “That’s pretty much the gist of it. I’ve been relegated to hand-holding him.” Lauren walked over to the coffee pot sitting on a stand near the dresser to start a pot of coffee. She tucked the phone under her chin.

  Her father harrumphed, a sure sign he wasn’t happy.

  “Dad, I thought you’d be thrilled. The team could be sold to responsible ownership.”

  “I think the league is creating a bidding war to jack the price up.”

  “Bidding war? With who?” Lauren wasn’t following her father.

  “I’ve been keeping you out of the loop on this. Didn’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ve organized a new ownership team with several deep pockets, all hockey guys, and we’re making a bid for the Giants.”

  “What hockey guys?” Lauren went cold inside, not at all sure how she felt about her father’s announcement.

  “Me, Earl, Mike, John Carver, a few others, all guys from my playing days.”

  And all old school. Great guys but no great imagination or willingness to try new things, just like the current management. “Does the league know you’re interested?”

  “Yeah, we’ve been in constant contact, especially John because he’s the tightest with the commish.” She could tell by her father’s tense tone he was irritated. Why wouldn’t he be? His group had made it known they wanted the Giants yet the league ignored them and brought in Ethan and his group—new blood, not necessarily a bad thing and not necessarily a good thing. Whether or not to support Ethan tore her in two. Adding her father’s group to the mix increased her confusion.

  “So has John approached Straus?”

  “Not formally, but Straus is aware of us. I wanted to see what info you had before we made a formal statement.”

  Figures. Her father assumed she’d choose family loyalty over team loyalty and give him any dirt she might have. The good news was that she didn’t have anything useful. At least, nothing that the rest of management didn’t already know. “Nothing really. The guy that’s checking the team out is pretty hands-on. Asks a lot of questions.”

  “Who’s he representing?”

  “No one knows. It’s all a big secret, but it came down from the top that we’re to give him any information he asks for.”

  “If my ownership group buys the team, I could end up as GM.” Her father’s voice took on that tone it often did when he was driving ahead to the goal and nothing and no one would stand in his way.

  “Then I couldn’t work for you.” Lauren thought out loud. She’d be out of a job with a team she’d given her heart and soul to for the past several years, scrabbled her way up from the bottom, always
working twice as hard as any man just to prove herself.

  “Of course, you could.” Her father didn’t seem to get it.

  “Dad, it’s nepotism. I couldn’t work for you.”

  “Don’t worry, honey, it’s done all the time. I’ll find something for you with the club.” Something wasn’t what Lauren had in mind. Not at all. She hadn’t come this far to be relegated back to the clerical pool. There wouldn’t be a good place for her with the Giants or anywhere else. Other teams wouldn’t trust her because of her father’s position. Add being a female, and she was screwed.

  Her father disregarding her concerns had been par for the course her entire life. She’d never been Daddy’s little girl, more like Daddy’s afterthought. With two talented sons to follow in Lon’s footsteps, he’d focused his energy on Lauren’s brothers, while allowing Lauren to come along for the ride. She absorbed everything she could about hockey in an attempt to win his approval, but he barely noticed.

  “So what do you know about this guy?” Her father pushed for more information, and Lauren balked, unwilling to give her personal impressions of Ethan—and not just because the jury was still out on him.

  “Not much.” Now that she thought about it, she spoke the absolute truth. She knew very little except he’d played college football as a quarterback. She had no idea where he was from, how old he was, how he made a living. Nothing. In fact, she didn’t have a clue why a billionaire would hire this particular person to evaluate a hockey team’s worth.

  “You have to give me a tidbit. Something.”

  “Dad, he asks all the questions. He doesn’t reveal a thing about himself or his employers.”

  “I trust you, honey. You’ll do some digging for your old man, give me some leverage I can use with the league.”

  “I’ll try.” Not a chance in hell. Not now. Not while she was still figuring out whether Ethan was a good guy or bad guy.

  “Good girl. I’ve gotta go now. Bye, hon.”

  “Bye, Dad. Love you.” But her words were met by a dead line. Lon rarely said he loved her, and she’d come to terms with that. Terms of endearment weren’t his MO.

  Lauren set the phone down and paced the floor. It seemed obvious to her—if the league knew about her father’s group’s interest, either they preferred Ethan’s group, or they really were attempting to drive the price up.

  And somehow she’d gotten herself stuck in the middle of a possible lose-lose situation.

  Chapter 5—In the Net

  Early the next morning, Ethan took a taxi to Montreal’s team headquarters for a league-arranged visit with Montreal’s GM to discuss hockey, running a hockey team, anything and everything. The GM was a little cautious about disseminating any info that would give the Giants an edge in the playoffs. Ethan almost laughed, as if the Giants’ coaching staff would listen to him if he did manage to glean any information.

  Afterward, he sat in the first row of seats in the arena, watching the Giants go through their practice routine and taking notes. Cooper Black interested him the most. The guy was the heart and soul of this team, loyal to a fault, a workaholic, and a passionate player. Ethan wanted nineteen more just like him. Cooper’s contract was up after next season, and Ethan would do everything in his power to keep one of hockey’s premier players on his ice.

  Cooper skated with a mesmerizing combination of speed and athletic grace that put the most talented players to shame. Despite being thirty-two—the same age as Ethan—Cooper showed no signs of slowing down nor had he been plagued with injury problems like other players. He’d earned a reputation for toughness and resiliency, and he deserved to be on a team that did everything it could to compete for the Cup each and every year. Ethan wanted to make the Giants—soon to be christened the Sockeyes—that team and Cooper Black his cornerstone.

  One problem. Black seemed to hate his guts. Dislike, Ethan could live with, but he needed the guy’s respect. Ethan could schmooze and charm the best of them. With that in mind, he waited outside the locker room after practice. Cooper was the last one to leave, just like he was the first one to arrive every day.

  Ethan stepped in front of Cooper, blocking his exit route. “Nice job last night. With a little more help from your offense, you’d have stood a better chance.” Cooper had scored two goals, but they’d still lost.

  Cooper’s eyes narrowed with undisguised animosity. “What the fuck would you know about that?”

  Ethan bit back a smartass retort. Getting into a pissing match with this guy wouldn’t get him anywhere. “You don’t care much for me, do you, Black?”

  Cooper and Ethan stood the same height. Even though Ethan was no slouch, Cooper’s muscles were honed from thousands of hours in the rink and the weight room. Even so, Ethan would not allow the team captain to intimidate him. He wanted Cooper on his team, not just because he had a contract but because he wanted to play for this team with this ownership in Seattle. It’d be a hard sell and a near vertical uphill climb and wouldn’t happen overnight. But the first step would be to earn Cooper’s respect even if the future Hall-of-Fame center hated his guts.

  “Give me one good reason why I should.” Cooper’s chin jutted out and he clenched his jaw.

  “Because we both want the same things.”

  “What the fuck is that?”

  “To see this team become a dynasty.”

  “You’re just here to do a job. I’m here to leave my blood, sweat, and guts on the ice—fuck, my soul. I don’t think guys like you even have a soul, do you, Williams?”

  Ouch. Now that was fucking low. “Souls can be bought and sold. Premier hockey players are harder to come by.” Ethan smiled even though it hurt his face to do so, but Cooper’s mouth retained its hard, firm line.

  A muscle ticked in Cooper’s jaw. “So you think I’m premier?”

  “Of course, I do. I’d be a fool not to.”

  Cooper shrugged, not backing down and not impressed.

  “Is it me you have an issue with or are you satisfied with riding the Sleezers into oblivion?”

  “I fucking hate the Sleezers. The entire team does, but I hate ownership groups who don’t have the balls to reveal themselves and hide behind a thousand-dollar suit like you.”

  Ethan laughed. “Have you yet seen me in a thousand-dollar suit?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I admire your honesty, even if I don’t appreciate your attitude.” He wove steel in his voice. Black needed to know Ethan didn’t get intimidated, and he didn’t back down. The sooner Cooper figured that out, the sooner they could move beyond this pissing match they currently engaged in.

  “You’re the best, Coop, and this ownership is committed to putting the best team on the ice with you or without you.”

  “They haven’t bought the team yet unless you know something you’re not telling us.”

  Cooper’s penetrating gaze dissected every nuance of Ethan’s body language just like he dissected an opposing team’s goalie and defensemen, predicting their every move. Ethan had spent years covering up his emotions, and he’d be damned if he’d give Cooper a hint of the story behind the story. Not yet.

  “This team hasn’t had one playoff appearance until now in the years the Sleezer brothers took over the team from their father. Current staff have managed to build a solid competitor with home-grown talent and young guys. But you know as well as I do, that once these young guys’ contracts expire, they’ll come looking for their money, and the Sleezers won’t pay up. You’ll be back to square one.”

  Cooper’s frown cut deeper, etching deep lines into his face, as anger flashed in his blue eyes. “I know that. I want the team sold.”

  “Then why are you fighting this?”

  “Because something doesn’t add up, and I don’t trust you.”

  Ethan didn’t respond, keeping his expression bland. This guy was too savvy, and he was one step away from figuring this whole mess out. If the sale became public before the team’s last game, the deal was off
, and most likely Schneider’s group would get the team, and Seattle would get nothing.

  That could not happen. Not on Ethan’s watch. Not when he was so close he could taste it. He’d dreamed of this for so long, planned for it, waiting and watching for an opening, he couldn’t lose his goal when it was within inches of his reach. Besides, he’d made a promise to his family, and Ethan took his promises seriously and so did his family. This was his contribution to the community.

  Cooper scrutinized him like he was an opposing team’s starting goalie. “I don’t like all this secrecy bullshit. Why doesn’t this group just come out and announce who the fuck they are?”

  “They’re not willing to do that until they’ve done their due diligence.”

  “What the fuck ever.” Cooper pushed past him and strode down the long hallway.

  So much for winning over the team’s best player. If anything, Ethan had dug a deeper hole for himself, and he’d raised the suspicions of the one man he didn’t want sniffing around. Lauren was bad enough, especially considering who her father was.

  God, he hated subterfuge. He’d always been a straightforward, honest businessman. This went against his nature.

  Once the sale was announced and the move to Seattle was revealed, he wondered if any amount of damage control would repair the destruction left in their wake. Yet, he’d do it over again, knowing what he knew now because he wanted this team in Seattle that badly.

  And he wanted Lauren and Cooper in Seattle along with it.

  * * * *

  All morning and into the afternoon, Lauren worked on her stats, only she couldn’t concentrate.

  She wanted to hate Ethan Williams. It’d make her life that much easier. Try as she might, her body refused to go with the program, and she wasn’t sure the rest of her was buying in either. It wanted Ethan eight ways until Sunday, in the net, in the luxury suites, in the locker room showers. That horny body of hers wasn’t picky. In fact, the man had lived in her dreams last night to the point where she gave up on sleep and worked on some salary cap stuff.