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

Authors: Jami Davenport

Tags: #alpha male, #Contemporary Romance, #hockey, #sports romance, #wealthy hero, #dpgroup.org, #IDS@DPG, #workplace

Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1) (2 page)

BOOK: Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1)
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“What did you say?” Ethan pushed his dark hair off his forehead and wiped his face with a towel Nat tossed his way.

“They want to sell. The league is on board. Everything’s in place but with the stipulation that the sale be kept absolutely quiet as long as the Giants are in the playoffs.” Cyrus, a hockey fan in his own right, hopped from one foot to the other as if he were walking over hot coals. His hips swayed, and he danced to the disco music constantly playing in his head. He wouldn’t win Dancing with the Stars, but Ethan gave him points for enthusiasm.

“Playoffs?” Ethan said.

“Yeah, the Giants made the playoffs tonight by a thread.”

Ethan sat down hard on one of the bleacher seats, looking up at Cyrus. “As late as last week, the Sleezers swore they’d go down with their sinking ship.”

“That was before they lost a harassment lawsuit to a few former employees. Now a couple hundred million in their pockets is looking damn good.” Cyrus checked his watch. “I have the private jet idling on the tarmac at Boeing Field before the flakes change their minds. Again.”

“Did you call Reynolds?”

Brad Reynolds had been Ethan’s best friend since junior high football. The Reynolds family represented old Seattle money. Even if their fortune might be somewhat diminished of late, they still commanded instant respect and brandished major political clout. That political clout was proving to be more valuable than the cash when it came to getting permits approved for the new ice arena. Brad, the middle Reynolds brother, had jumped on board immediately as the family representative, while his two brothers, parents, and a sister came along for the ride as somewhat silent partners. None of them knew a damn thing about hockey, but they loved sports and were more than willing to learn.

“Yeah, Brad’s on his way. He’ll meet us at Boeing Field.”

Ethan checked his watch. Six-thirty on a Saturday. It was going to be a long but profitable night. “Crap. Let me shower, and I’ll be out in fifteen.”

Ethan made it out in nine minutes. The only reason he wasn’t quicker was because of the required commiserating with his teammates over the abrupt end of their season.

Several hours later, Ethan and Brad signed on the dotted line as majority shareholders and main representatives of the Puget Sound Hockey Alliance.

Seattle had a professional hockey team.

Only no one could know it.

Not yet.

* * * *

For the first thirty years of his life, Ethan had concentrated on building his family’s already massive fortune, but making money had lost its luster. The thrill had gone. With his family’s blessing, he’d turned to a different pursuit. Parkers were good citizens, and good citizens gave back to their community. Ethan’s gift to Seattle manifested itself in the form of a state-of-the-art hockey arena. Of course, then he needed a team to play in it.

He had pursued that goal with a single-minded purpose, amassing a who’s-who of Seattle businessmen, along with the Reynolds family, to be part of his merry band of marauders bent on stealing a struggling hockey franchise from another city and resurrecting it in Seattle. He’d worked zealously in the background, never showing his face, never tipping his hand. He was the man behind the mirror—the Emerald City’s hockey wizard.

He would’ve preferred an expansion team, but he was an impatient man, and impatient men took advantage of their opportunities.

After the signing, Ethan and Brad dragged their asses to an all-night diner. Ethan leaned forward in the booth with his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. Brad sat opposite him, also deep in thought. Most people took Brad at face value, considering him a shallow playboy. Ethan knew better. Behind Brad’s easy smile and smooth-talking lurked a guy with as much determination as Ethan to see this thing through and create a winning tradition of hockey in Seattle. Ethan expected nothing less of his partner in crime.

“When are we flying back?” Brad finally turned his head away from his study of a beach volleyball game playing on the one TV in the diner.

“I’m not. I’m staying on. This is a prime opportunity to study every aspect of the team during the season, and I’m taking advantage of it.”

“But the league and the Sleezers put a gag order on your pending purchase and the team’s subsequent move. If anyone leaks information about the offer before the final game of the season, the deal is off, especially since we’re moving the team.”

“I know. I was there, too. Remember? But I have options. It’s no secret the team is in financial straits and destined to be sold.”

Brad nodded and smiled. “I can see your devious mind spinning.”

“I’m taking a page out of
Undercover Boss.

“Seriously? Are you going to wear a wig and mustache, too?”

Ethan sighed. Sometimes, he swore Brad didn’t have a serious bone in his body. “I’ll be using a different last name. I’m not recognizable because I’ve avoided the limelight. I’ll be getting an insider’s view of the team from top to bottom, from the first line to the fourth line, from the GM to the administrative assistant. I’ll evaluate who’ll make the move to Seattle and who needs to go.”

“And so how are you going undercover?”

“As a representative for a potential buyer to determine the team’s worth and its investment potential.”

Brad nodded. “Clever. People will be more likely to give you the honest scoop if they believe you can’t fire them, but they’ll be pissed as hell when they find out you’ve duped them.”

Ethan shrugged, no stranger to pissing people off. Not that he made a habit of it, but his drive and ambition often did the job for him. “This isn’t a popularity contest. This is about winning.”

And that, to Ethan, was the bottom line.

* * * *

Lauren Schneider rolled over in bed and frowned at her cell laying on the nightstand, its face illuminated by an incoming call. Who the hell called a person at six-thirty
AM
on a Sunday unless it was an emergency?

Usually she’d wake up at this hour, ready to attack the day, but the Gainesville Giants hockey team had advanced to the playoffs for the first time in years with their win over Ottawa last night. Of course, it helped that the league had increased the number of playoff teams recently, which opened up wildcard slots not available in the past. After the win, she’d attended the team party to celebrate. Lauren usually didn’t participate in such parties, but she made an exception last night, and in the process imbibed a little too much.

Only one troubling fact marred an otherwise perfect evening. The game hadn’t sold out. In fact, it came well short of it. The guys deserved better, but the Sleezer brothers were too busy spending the team proceeds to be bothered with promoting the team. Plus, who wanted to sit in a hockey arena when it was eighty degrees outside? Not that she bought that excuse. Other warm-weather teams didn’t have a problem drawing a crowd, but the Sleezers had produced such a lousy product for long enough that fans had deserted the team in droves. Disappointed, they’d gravitated to other sports teams in the area, except for a handful of diehards the team fondly called the faithful fifty, even though their numbers were greater than fifty. It just didn’t look like that on most days.

Lauren glanced at the phone and frowned. It was her boss, Terry Allen, the director of player personnel. A call from him this early in the morning probably meant one thing—one of the guys had gotten in trouble and needed to be bailed out of jail or worse. She’d work her spin magic with the marketing staff, while Terry took care of the player.

As assistant director of player personnel for an organization in financial trouble, Lauren’s role had morphed into something of a Girl Friday, as the Sleezers continued to cut staff to make payroll and maintain their extravagant lifestyle. It hadn’t always been like this, but after the patriarch of the family died six years ago, things had gone downhill faster than a runaway train.

“This better be good, Allen.” She worked hard to maintain her kick-ass female rep, and she didn’t let down, even with the man who signed her paychecks.

“Get to HQ, and you needed to be here about fifteen minutes ago.”

“What’s going on?”

“Get your ass down here.” He hung up the phone. In itself that wasn’t unusual. Terry wasn’t known for his touchy-feely conversations, so it probably meant nothing.

Lauren showered, dressed, and was in her car speeding to the arena, where the team had its headquarters, in record time. Because her life was all about the team, she lived only five minutes away, fifteen minutes if she walked, but she didn’t have time for that today.

Scenarios raced through her mind.
The Sleezers declared bankruptcy—finally? Or team captain Cooper Black was in jail? Cedric got caught in a compromising position with a woman? Nah, that wouldn’t be news. Maybe all those sales rumors finally came to fruition? The league had tired of bailing out the Sleezers? Or—or what?

Lauren hurried into the building, relatively empty except for janitorial staff cleaning up from the party last night.

She nodded to the gray-haired guy sitting behind the security desk. “Hey, Herm, how goes it?”

“Big stuff going down here last night, missy. Lots of important men in and out, including the commissioner.”

“The commissioner was here?” Oh, God, this
was
big. Way big. Scary big. “Any idea why?”

Herm frowned and pulled his lips in that tight line that said all she was getting out of him would be name and rank, and forget about the serial number. “You’d best go upstairs and find out for yourself.”

She headed for the stairs, glancing over her shoulder at Herm. He tried to smile but failed. Herm always found something to smile about, no matter what. Not so today.

The place was quiet as she walked down the long hallway of the empty offices of the team, but she heard laughter coming from the conference room—even what she swore was the popping of a champagne cork. Lauren stuck her head around the partially open door. Terry motioned her inside. She hesitated when she saw the general manager and coach in the office along with several other staff members, all with grins on their faces, which is what one would expect from a team advancing to the playoffs for the first time in a decade. So why was she here?

“Who’s in jail?” Lauren quipped.

“No one.” Ike, the GM, shook his head, and almost managed a smile. Ike was like an uncle to her. He’d played in the league with her father. While he’d been an incredible forward, his management skills left a lot to be desired, but Lauren never spoke up against him, despite the grumblings among the staff. Ike never moved fast when it came to decisions. His inability to jump on a deal quickly lost them a good many players over the years.

“Did someone die?” Lauren asked.

“Nope, not even close,” Ike grouched, but Ike liked to grouch. He could win the Mega Millions and be pissed about it.

“Then did I miss a memo or something?”

Terry nodded. “Pretty much. We all did.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Now that we’re all here, let’s get started.” Everyone looked to Ike in his rumpled shirt, tie askew. His rubbed his bloodshot eyes but still managed a tired, yet happy, smile. “The league is forcing the Sleezers to sell, and we have a potential buyer.”

Obviously this was news to everyone except Terry, Ike, and Coach Ferrar.

“Seriously? Who?” They lived through these rumors every couple months; never before had it justified an early Sunday meeting. The Sleezer brothers, not-so-fondly known around the team headquarters as the Sleazies, had gone back and forth about selling the team while they bled it dry in order to finance their yacht, mansions, parties, and women. Upstanding citizens, the Sleazies. It was no secret the league wanted them banned from their exclusive club of owners.

“We don’t know other than they have deep pockets. Very deep.”

“This team deserves deep pockets and decent owners who’ll build on what we’ve done.” Lauren could tell by Ike’s lack of a frown, he thought losing the Sleezers was a damn good thing.

“Why are we meeting at O-dark-thirty? Couldn’t this wait until Monday?” Kaley, Lauren’s best friend, rubbed her eyes and yawned. Last Lauren had seen of her, she’d been dancing on the bar with one of the rookies, wearing an ice bucket on her head, and doing tequila shots.

“It can’t wait. The league is putting on the pressure.” Ike appeared to be nursing a hangover himself.

“What kind of pressure?” Lauren honestly didn’t understand why they were here early Sunday morning after the team had won their biggest game in years.

“Money talks and the league listens.” Ike rubbed his eyes, looking worse than Lauren felt. “The prospective buyers are sending a couple representatives to vet the team, and the league wants us to play nice and be on our best behavior.”

“Who are these guys?” Terry asked the question that was on the tip of everyone’s tongue.

“No one knows.” Ike grimaced. He obviously hated not knowing what he was getting into and with whom.

“Someone does,” Lauren pointed out the obvious. “Or they wouldn’t have ordered us to kiss their asses.”

“They’ll be here on Monday and underfoot at every game from this point forward.”

“As in tomorrow?” Lauren was still in shock, trying to process what these changes meant to the team, the staff, and her. “This is a good thing, right?”

“Getting rid of the Sleezers can only be a good thing,” Terry answered.

A smattering of applause erupted around the room. No one could dispute that fact.

“They aren’t planning on moving the team, are they?” Lauren asked.

Ike smiled, but Lauren caught the concern that flashed in his eyes. “Ah, Lauren, ever the skeptic. No, no plans to move the team.”

Lauren couldn’t help being skeptical. Her life consisted of a long line of promises made and never kept, starting with her beloved father who put hockey over family until her mother divorced him and embraced being a bitter, vindictive woman. Then Lauren repeated her mother’s mistake by marrying a hockey player herself, and that sure as hell hadn’t ended well.

“We meet with these guys first thing Monday morning. In the meantime, we need to be ready for any questions they ask us. The Sleezers must go, and it’s up to us to make sure these guys don’t leave Florida without a recommendation to their bosses to buy the team. I expect every one of you to play nice with them and give them the information they request, of course, while putting the organization in the most positive light possible.”

BOOK: Skating on Thin Ice: Seattle Sockeyes (Game On in Seattle Book 1)
4.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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