Chapter 23
Tane
Traffic thinned after the last exit ramp, giving way to rolling farmland, then denser stands of pine and birch. The turn-off Antonio had texted him was unmarked.
No sign, no mile marker.
Just a faded gravel lay-by carved into the edge of the state forest.
I don’t know.
This isn’t the usual meeting spot.
I don’t even want to think…
Tane slowed, tires crunching over loose stones, and eased the car to a stop beside the only other vehicle in sight: a charcoal-gray Mercedes G-Class with tinted windows and no plates visible from the road.
Tane killed the engine and sat for a moment, hands still on the wheel, listening to the tick of cooling metal and the distant call of a crow somewhere in the trees.
The shoulder throbbed in dull protest, the same steady ache it had carried since the Titans series.
But he ignored it. He’d driven one-handed most of the way anyway.
Tane’s mind turned over the same question it had been chewing on since the message arrived at 2:17 p.m.…
Is this the one I don’t walk away from?
Tane was thirty-eight, signed to a contract extension nobody had expected the Cardini family to offer. A veteran with a damaged shoulder, a bank account full of money he barely touched, and a public profile that made disappearing him messy but not impossible.
The family had buried problems before… former players turned rivals who talked too much, staff who skimmed too close to the books, even the occasional rival executive who’d gotten too curious. Bodies turned up in ditches, car accidents staged with mechanical precision, overdoses ruled accidental.
Tane had never asked for details.
He’d never needed to.
The less he knew, the cleaner his hands stayed.
But Tane knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. It was time to meet his destiny. And with that thought in his mind, he exhaled through his nose, popped the door, and stepped out.
Gravel crunched under his boots as he crossed to the Mercedes. The rear passenger window slid down without a sound.
Antonio Cardini sat inside, alone, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked too sharp for a forest lay-by. Antonio’s face was calm, almost serene, but his green eyes held the flat, unblinking focus of a man who’d already calculated every possible outcome.
“Tane,” he said, voice low and warm, the same tone he used in boardroom meetings. “Get in.”
Tane slid onto the leather seat and pulled the door closed. The cabin smelled faintly of leather conditioner and Antonio’s cologne, something expensive and understated. The window rose again, sealing them in quiet.
Antonio studied him for a beat.
“You look tired,” Antonio said, his voice low but full of quiet intensity.
“Playoff hockey,” Tane replied evenly. “And a shoulder that doesn’t want to cooperate.”
Antonio nodded once, as if the admission had been expected. “I know about the injury. Ricki mentioned it in passing. Nothing dramatic, just that you’ve been skipping sessions and seeing someone privately.”
Tane’s jaw tightened.
So Ricki had talked. Not surprising. The physio and Antonio had been circling each other for months. Pillow talk traveled fast in their world.
“It’s not a problem,” Antonio continued before Tane could respond. “Once the season ends, win or lose, We’ll send you to Zurich. Best surgeon on the planet. We’ll cover everything. Recovery, rehab, the works. You’ll come back stronger.”
Tane let out a short breath, his body and mind relaxing somewhat. Today wasn’t going to be his final day on earth after all.
“In all honesty, Antonio, I don’t know if the best surgeon in the world can fix this one,” Tane began. “The labrum’s frayed. Bone-on-bone grinding in spots. I can play through it, barely, but every shift feels like rolling dice. I’m just being honest.”
Antonio’s mouth curved into a small, almost paternal smile. “Have a little faith, Tane. You’ve beaten worse odds.”
Tane met his gaze. “Faith doesn’t reattach cartilage.”
“No,” Antonio conceded. “But money and the right hands can do a hell of a lot. Trust me on this. And listen… I know a warrior when I see one. We’ve been through so much together. On and off the ice. I know that when it truly matters, you’ll reward our faith in you once again.”
A beat of silence stretched between them. Tane glanced out the window at the darkening trees.
“Why out here?” Tane asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a drive to the country as much as the next guy. But why not the office? Or the usual spot at the arena?”
Antonio leaned back, fingers steepled.
“There have been murmurings,” Antonio said, his eyes telling their own story.
“More trouble heading our way. Nothing concrete yet, but enough smoke that I’m paying attention.
Word is the FBI has been sniffing around…
quiet conversations with people close to a rival club.
They’re looking for leverage. Someone they can flip.
A player, maybe. Someone who knows the inside of the organization. ”
Tane’s stomach tightened. “You think they’ve got someone inside?”
“Not yet. But they’re trying. And with the playoffs heating up, attention is high. Eyes everywhere. That’s why we’re meeting off-site. No cameras, no tails, no loose lips in the parking garage.”
Tane nodded slowly. “What do you need from me?”
“Keep your ear to the ground,” Antonio said.
“You’ve been in this league twenty years.
You know people. Old teammates, agents, trainers.
Hell, even the equipment guys talk. If you hear anything weird…
someone asking too many questions, a sudden change in behavior, a guy who’s suddenly flush with cash he shouldn’t have. Bring it to me. Discreetly.”
“Understood.”
“And Jacob…” Antonio’s voice sharpened just enough to carry weight.
“He needs extra eyes on him. The kid has a reputation. Party boy, poster child, social media darling. That makes him vulnerable. Someone leans on him, offers a payout, threatens to leak something personal… he might not see it coming. You’re the one person he trusts.
Keep him safe at all costs. No restrictions. Do what you need to do.”
Tane’s hands flexed against his thighs. “I’ll protect him with my life.”
Antonio’s smile returned, softer this time. “I know you will. But protect that shoulder just as carefully. We need you whole for one more run. After that… We’ll talk about what comes next. Management. Advisory. Whatever you want. The family takes care of its own. Loyalty is everything.”
The words hung between them. A promise, reminder, and warning in equal measure.
Antonio extended his hand. Tane took it. The grip was firm, brief, final.
“Drive safe,” Antonio said. “And keep your phone on.”
Tane nodded once, opened the door, and stepped back into the cooling air.
He walked to his car without looking back. The Mercedes didn’t move until he’d pulled onto the highway and disappeared around the first bend.
The drive back to the city felt longer than the drive out. Streetlights flickered on one by one, washing the dashboard in pale orange. Tane kept both hands on the wheel now, ignoring the protest from his right shoulder every time he shifted gears.
Tane thought about Jacob… probably pacing the apartment by now, phone in hand, wondering where he’d gone. The kid had texted twice during the drive, but Tane hadn’t answered. Not yet.
Tane needed the quiet first. He needed to let Antonio’s words settle.
FBI. Rival club. A player who could be compromised.
And Jacob—bright, reckless, trusting Jacob—square in the crosshairs if anyone decided to push.
It was far from ideal. Tane could see how much potential Jacob had for a truly incredible, generational career on the ice.
The last thing he needed was to be dragged into something murky or manipulated by the authorities.
Tane’s grip tightened until his knuckles whitened.
He’d meant what he said. He would protect Jacob with his life. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
But the shoulder throbbed in counterpoint, a reminder that his body might not let him keep that promise forever.
By the time he pulled into the underground garage beneath his building, the sky had gone full dark. Tane sat in the car another minute, engine off, breathing in the stale concrete smell.
Then he pulled out his phone.
Three missed texts from Jacob.
Tane thumbed a quick reply:
TANE: On my way up. 5 min.
With that, he stepped out, locked the car, and headed for the elevator.
Tomorrow was Game Seven.
Tomorrow the city would roar.
But tonight, Tane knew had a boy waiting upstairs who needed to know he was safe.
And Tane intended to make damn sure he stayed that way.
* * *
The elevator doors slid open on Tane’s floor with a soft chime. He stepped into the hallway, keys already in hand, the weight of Antonio’s words still sitting heavy across his shoulders like an extra layer of padding he couldn’t shrug off.
The corridor was quiet.
Too quiet after the long drive and the forest lay-by that had felt like stepping outside the normal world for forty-five minutes.
Tane unlocked the apartment door and pushed it open.
The living room was lit only by the city glow coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and the single floor lamp Jacob must have switched on when he got home.
Jacob himself was sprawled across the pristine white sectional that faced the view, one leg hooked over the armrest, the other stretched out along the cushions.
His sneakers—still laced, still filthy from the park walk—were propped up on the seat beside him, soles leaving faint gray smudges on the fabric Tane had paid a small fortune to have steam-cleaned two weeks ago.
Jacob’s head turned at the sound of the door. His face lit up: relief first, then that bright, boyish grin that usually melted Tane’s resolve in seconds.
“You’re back!” Jacob said, pushing up onto his elbows. “I was starting to think you’d been kidnapped by aliens or something.”