Hot Damn (Hot as Puck #3)

25. Cami

Cami

W e’re in the final minute of game one in the regular season and the excitement in the room is palpable.

I’m up in the visiting owner’s suite of the Miami Steam’s arena, while Nat and Oakley are downstairs waiting to join the team after the end of game horn sounds.

I’ve been taking video all night from the suite while Deb has roamed the arena doing the same. Even Whitney has taken some footage while watching her dad play like the star he is.

Beckett Higgison might be in the older bracket of professional hockey players but he’s no less skilled, no slower or less aggressive than the younger men on the ice.

He’s been instrumental in getting the Rogues the five-two score illuminated on the Jumbotron hanging from the middle of Miami’s arena.

As the seconds tick down, a hush falls over the room and nobody moves. I’m sure no one breathes. I certainly don’t.

My eyes are glued to the ice, waiting with bated breath for that horn to signal the end of the game.

From the corner of my eye, I see Whitney move up against the glass, her head moving back and forth as she follows the puck and the men chasing it, and for some reason I lift my phone and hit record.

We’re down to a couple of seconds when her hand comes up and covers her mouth and I watch the anticipation and joy explode on her face as the crowd in the arena and the room around me goes wild.

A split second before the end of game horn blasts, the goal buzzer goes off.

Phone still aimed at Whitney, I turn my head to see what all the excitement is about.

As if to prove my thoughts about him true, Beckett has scored another goal.

His third of the game.

Hats fly over the glass onto the ice and I move my phone to take in the scene below.

It doesn’t matter that this isn’t our home ice, our home crowd, hockey fans the country over know how to celebrate a hat trick.

It’s crazy, the pandemonium that follows the end of the first game of the season. Win or lose, it’s the beginning of every team’s run for the Cup.

And the Rogues have kept their undefeated status of pre-season and marched into their first NHL regular season with their heads held high.

I might not have been instrumental in putting the team together, might not be involved in everyday management or training, but a swell of pride rises in my chest anyway and has my eyes watering.

“They did it!” Dad claps a hand on my back and I almost drop my phone.

Juggling it, I hit stop on the video and turn to throw my arms around him. “They did!”

“If this isn’t a poked tongue at the league, I don’t know what is,” Pa says, his voice loud enough to carry over the cheering. “I’m taking Micky down to the locker room. Anyone else want to head down with us?”

Whitney comes to a bouncing stop beside us. “Me! Yes! Me!” She turns to go but quickly spins back, her eyes meeting mine. “Do you think it would be okay if I videoed everyone waiting for the team?”

“Sure, just make sure they know you’re doing it and okay with being recorded.”

“It’ll only be the players’ families and Rogue staff down there. Oakley said Nat vetoed the press or anyone else,” Pa adds.

“She can do that at another team’s arena?” Whitney asks. “Wow. That’s some serious power.”

“That woman has never let anyone stop her getting what she wants,” Dad says, one arm still around my shoulder. “I’d love to see her as president. She’d kick ass.”

Laughing, I bump his hip with mine. “Don’t give her any ideas.”

“Nat isn’t going anywhere. She finally has what she’s always wanted.” Pa’s words seem innocuous enough but there’s a smile on his face and an underlying hint of something I can’t quite put my finger on. Turning, he hooks his arm through Whitney’s. “See you down there or back at the hotel. I’ll take care of this one until her dad comes out.”

Nodding, I watch them go, collecting others on their way to the door. By the time Pa leaves, he’s got a trail of kids and adults following him.

“Jimmy is in his element here. I haven’t seen him this happy since before Nora died.”

I have to agree with Dad. The Rogues, Oakley’s marriage to Walker, and the arrival of Micky, have made Pa a very happy man. Tipping my head up, I ask, “Are you heading down now?”

“I thought I’d stick with you. See if you need anything.”

“I’m good, Dad. You can go down if you want. I just need to make sure everything is okay here, nothing left behind?— ”

“I’m on that.” Trevor stops next to us. “I’ve got enough hands to help too; just take care of your things and you’re good.”

“Are you sure?”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“Right, right. Stupid question.” Smiling, I turn to Dad. “All right. Let’s go congratulate the team before we hit the hotel and we lose our chance.”

“We can catch up with Mom—she’s down there already.”

“She is?” I glance around the suite and realize we’re the only ones left. “Wow. It cleared out quick.”

“Most went down with Jimmy but some headed out before that.”

“Oh.”

Dad slips his arm through mine and urges me toward the door. “So, talk to me about Beckett and Whitney.”

“What about them?”

“You threw yourself and your laptop at Kenneth Dupre.” He cocks an eyebrow at me.

“And?”

“Cam.”

He gives me the look he’s always given me when he wants me to talk. It worked when I was younger. It’s not so good now I’m older, but I’ve always confided in Dad or Mom so I find myself caving.

“I didn’t think about it. He grabbed for Whitney and I couldn’t let him get away with that.”

“That’s all it is? You protecting a child?”

“She’s not really a child and she’d pretty much saved herself by twisting away, but something clicked in my head, and I couldn’t not do something.”

“There are a few similarities between you and Whitney.”

I nod. There are. But then again, we’re completely different too. Whitney’s mother was a predator of a different kind to mine.

“I’m here if you need to talk.” He gives my arm a squeeze with his. “About anything. ”

I hear the underlying question and answer him right away. “I haven’t heard from her.”

“Hmm…”

“Yeah. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not either.”

“You mind if I get someone to see where Andrea is?”

“Of course not. You have as much right to be sure she isn’t going to crawl out of the woodwork as I do.”

“Less than you. Far less than you.”

“I don’t think so. She lost the power to hurt me a long time ago. She’s a nuisance more than anything now.”

“Still, it’s better to know if we should prepare for anything she might come up with.”

“True. But you don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Dad eyes me sideways and chuckles. “You proved that a few days ago when you single handedly scared off Kenneth Dupre.”

“I don’t know if I scared him off as much as he knew he wasn’t going to get what he wanted and cut his losses.”

“Ms. Nelson?”

Looking up I find a security guard in front of us. “Yes.”

“If you’ll follow me.” At my raised eyebrow he explains, “I’m to escort you to the locker room.”

“We don’t need an escort.”

“Not usually, no, but with the press being held back from both teams, things are a little contentious through the public areas and we have to traverse a small section of that to reach the private elevators to the basement levels.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” I offer the man a smile in the hope of lightening his dour expression. It doesn’t work but my smile remains all the same.

Dad leans closer to whisper in my ear, “He takes his job seriously.”

Tipping my head slightly and talking quietly out the side of my mouth I say, “Ray probably put the fear of god in him.”

“Ray does that without trying. ”

“He does.” I grin. “It’s why Nat hired him.”

“You mean convinced him to work with the Rogues org exclusively.”

“Same thing.”

Dad chuckles as we leave the deserted hallway leading to the private suites and enter the chaotic melee that is the concourse between this side of the arena and the other.

“Wow. He wasn’t kidding.” Dad’s arm unlocks from mine so he can wrap it around my shoulders and tug me tight against his side. “Might have needed more than one guard.”

“We’ll be fine. Just keep your head up and eyes to the front.”

“I know how to deal with a room full of executives, I can deal with this.”

“Sorry. I forgot I was raised by a shark.”

“Two sharks. Don’t discount your mom’s abilities.”

Someone slams into my back and pain stabs through my right side, making me stumble forward. Dad’s arm barely keeps me upright, but somehow, I manage to stay on my feet.

I must have cried out because the guard turns back, his eyes narrowing on something—or someone—behind me. Next thing I know, he’s at my side, him and Dad flanking me, as we all but run toward the door that will give us access to the private elevators.

The guard waves a card over a sensor before shoving the door open. Rushing through into the corridor one the other side, the noise and chaos instantly silences when the door snaps shut behind us.

“I’m sorry. I’ll radio the security room to have them review footage and have that reporter removed from the arena. At the very least stopped from entering the press conference.”

“Reporter?”

“He had a press pass around his neck.”

I look at Dad. “Did you see him?”

“No.” Dad’s frown digs deep grooves into the flesh around his mouth and across his forehead. “I was too busy keeping you from falling when you pitched forward. ”

“Oh, okay, I’m sure it was an accident.” I glance back at the door. “It was a madhouse out there.”

When I turn back, both men are frowning at me and I don’t know why, but it gets my hackles up. Instead of commenting and dragging our delay out further, I try for a reassuring smile.

“We should get moving. We’ll miss everyone before they head in to the press room or back to the hotel.”

Neither man moves right away and I’m on the verge of saying something else when Dad offers me a smile and looks at the guard.

“Lead the way. We’ve got a team to congratulate.”

I’m so caught up in my head thinking about what I want to take video of when we reach the team that I’m not paying attention to where the guard is leading us. But I’m brought up short by Ray Denim’s booming voice bouncing off the walls around us.

“What did he put in your bag?”

“Huh?”

“Your bag? What did he put in it?”

“I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.”

“Herman Draper put something in your bag when he shoved you from behind.”

It takes me a moment to work out what Ray is saying, but when I do it’s like my bag is on fire. I can’t get it off my shoulder fast enough.

The thud it makes when it hits the floor echoes around me and I stare at it with horror.

Ray’s the first to move. Crouching, he yanks the sides apart and begins taking things out one at a time. Nothing he removes is unfamiliar, and as each item is put on the floor next to my bag my impatience grows until I can’t stand it anymore.

With a grunt of frustration, I sink to my knees and grab my bag from Ray. He doesn’t get time to protest before I tip it upside down and shake, emptying the remaining contents out.

Tossing the bag to the side, I run my hands through everything, spreading it out so I can find what we’re looking for.

I don’t see it at first. It’s not until I sweep my gaze over the pens, notebooks, flash drives and other miscellaneous handbag stuff like tissues and lip balm, for a second time that I see the foreign object.

“I don’t wear lipstick.” I sit back on my heels, the need to distance myself from the silver tube I’ve never seen before making my skin crawl.

“What?” Ray’s gaze meets mine.

“Lipstick. I don’t wear it,” I repeat, pointing at the tube that isn’t mine.

“Ah, okay.” He doesn’t touch it or anything else. “Everything else yours?”

I nod slowly, my head feeling too heavy, my thoughts a little sluggish. “Yes.”

“Take another look. Be sure.”

I do as he asks. But that sluggish feeling has moved to my eyes and it takes me a while to process everything on the floor. When I get to the last item, I see nothing I haven’t put in my bag myself except the lipstick tube.

“I’m sure.” A wave of dizziness makes me put a hand on the ground for stability. “It’s the only thing.”

“What’s going on?”

Beckett’s voice pulls my gaze up. He’s towering over me, and it takes a minute for me to realize he’s in a suit. It’s not the first time I’ve seen him in one, but for some reason it’s the first time I’ve noticed how good he looks in one. “Wow.”

“Cam? You okay?” He grabs a handful of each trouser leg and tugs up as his knees widen and bend so he can lower into a crouch beside me. “Cam?”

“I…” What was the question?

“She’s fine.”

My gaze moves to Ray and I have to put a second hand on the floor to keep my balance. When I look back at Beckett his gaze is trained on me, his face distorted by a frown.

“Cam?”

“Yeah… I’m okay. Someone. Outside.” Another wave of dizziness ma kes my head so fuzzy my thoughts scatter, and it takes me a minute to get the rest of my words out. “Apparently put something in my bag.”

“Apparently?”

I nod but stop when the dizzy sensation makes everything spin and my stomach roll. “I didn’t…” Why can’t I think straight? “Camera. Caught.”

“You caught it on camera?”

Looking back at the things scattered on the floor I murmur, “No,” because I’m not sure what we’re talking about anymore and I can’t find my phone…

“The incident was caught by arena security?” I don’t think Beckett is talking to me anymore but I try to focus on him anyway even though it’s proving really hard to tip my head up. “You know who it was?”

“Yes. We’re searching for him now.”

Ray’s voice is more growl than words and it takes all my effort to lift my head to look at the Rogues’ head of security.

When my skull proves too heavy for my neck, I let gravity lower my head, my blurry eyes meeting Beckett’s on the way. He’s looking at me funny but my brain isn’t working right and I can’t find words or summon a smile. It’s all I can do to stay upright.

I try to shake my head to clear it, except the motion is slow and only makes the dizzy sensation worse.

My head grows heavier and my vision starts to sparkle, blacken around the edges, sounds muffling like I’m submerged under water…

Closing my eyes, the last thing I hear is Beckett’s panicked voice.

“Cam!”