Chapter 27 Jay
JAY
Coach Lazovsky’s face filled the TV screen in our lounge.
Ryker had connected his laptop to our TV for our team meeting, going through tactics for our next home game.
The whole hockey team were crowded into the space, which, although large, did not have enough seating for a whole team’s worth of fully grown men.
We normally had team meetings in person, but Coach had shit to do that none of us wanted to ask about in case we were implicated in whatever he was up to, so here we were.
I’d seated myself as far away from Volkov as possible, sprawling on the floor beneath the window while he sat across the other side of the room in one of the armchairs like a king on his throne.
I picked up my phone, tuning out Coach’s low drawl, and navigated to my ongoing message thread with Nova, aka “Byron.”
Me:
Sparring session? Are you serious?
Byron:
Why? Are you scared you’ll lose?
Me:
No. I’ve seen you sparring with Ry. I know your tricks
Byron:
Or so you think. Maybe I have tricks you don’t know about…
Me:
Hmm. Not sure your fiancé would be happy with me raising my fists to you
Byron:
True. He wouldn’t be happy with the other thing you raised to me either, but that didn’t stop you
Images flashed through my mind. Fuck. If I ended up with a boner during a team meeting, I’d—
Any dick-related worries were suddenly gone when I raised my head and accidentally met Volkov’s hard gaze.
My dick pretty much shrivelled up and died at the look on his face.
Clearing my throat, I drew up my knee and slung my arm across it in a casual pose, keeping my expression as blank as I could.
Did he suspect something? I’d been careful when I’d gone to Nova’s room—waiting until the uni had emptied out and most people were in their bedrooms, and I knew that Volkov was in his own room in North Wing.
I’d verified that myself when I’d dropped in to see Ryker after I’d been to the gym.
There was no way I wanted to risk her getting into trouble, and I’d been truthful when I told her I was only there to talk.
That had gone out of the window the second I’d seen the drawing.
Seen the way she’d taken so much care over it, the detail that had gone into it, the way she’d captured the determination on my face—I couldn’t keep my distance from her any longer.
And she’d come to me willingly, wanting me like I wanted her.
It had been easy to pretend when it was just the two of us.
Easy to push aside the reasons that this thing between us was getting dangerously out of hand.
It wasn’t so easy now, with Anton Volkov staring me down, his presence reminding me of everything we stood to lose if he found out what we’d done.
It was one thing for him to think I had a thing for Nova—it probably appealed to his arrogance, to have other men jealous that he was engaged to her—but it was another to disrespect him by actually making a move.
With that in mind, I sent Nova a reply.
Me:
We can’t. We need to keep our distance. I don’t want to create any trouble for you
Byron:
I know you’re right. I just wish there was a safe way we could spend time together
Me:
Me too
But there wasn’t. With that in mind, I shoved my phone into my pocket and turned my attention to the meeting. Or I tried to. Because without thoughts of Nova to distract me, my mind went to my other problem.
My family’s business problem. A problem that could have far-reaching consequences.
“Attwood!”
“Huh?” I blinked, the TV screen coming into focus. Shit. Coach Lazovsky was staring at me, and he did not look happy. “Sorry, Coach. Can you repeat that?”
His nostrils flared. “Listen carefully, Attwood. Do not make me repeat myself again. I said, we will start with the line pairings we used in last practice. That means you will start in the centre.”
“Okay.”
“Good. We will move on to tactics. Pay attention. I am talking to you, Attwood and Worthington,” Coach barked.
“Yes, Coach,” Kane said. Although his words were polite, he had a dark, almost angry look on his face. I caught Ryker’s eye, discreetly signalling towards Kane.
I’m on it, he mouthed, and I nodded in acknowledgement before returning my attention to the screen. I did my best to keep my mind on everything Coach was saying, but the worry I’d been suppressing crept back in. I had to get to the bottom of what was going on before it was too late.
“You’re not still doing that assignment, are you?”
“Huh?” Scrubbing my hand over my face, I lifted my head to find Ryker eyeing me over the top of my laptop. Fuck, how long had I been sitting here at the kitchen island, staring at my screen?
“The economics assignment. You were working on it when I passed you earlier, weren’t you? That was over two hours ago.”
“Uh. No.” I raised my arms above my head, stretching my stiff back. “I need caffeine.”
“I’ve got it,” Ryker said. Crossing to the fridge, he pulled out two cans of Red Bull and then slid one across the counter to me. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. Why are you still here? Shit, I mean, you’re welcome here anytime. You know that. Sorry, mate. Uh. Yeah. Forget I said anything.”
He snorted. “Okay, now I know something’s up. You’re acting weird.” Pulling out the stool perpendicular to mine, he rested his elbows on the polished marble surface. “What is it?”
I groaned, pushing my laptop away and dropping my head into my hands. “These fucking accounts. I don’t get it.”
“The clinic’s accounts?”
“Yeah. Volkov got me access to the one I couldn’t get into, but the numbers aren’t adding up. There are too many discrepancies, and I’m starting to think that it isn’t because of sloppy accounting.”
“Shit.” Ry dragged his stool next to mine. “Show me?”
I clicked through to the transactions I’d been studying for the past hour, all taking place during the past six weeks.
“See, here? This line. It doesn’t add up.
There’s almost two grand unaccounted for.
It’s not the only entry like this, and I’ve only gone back through six weeks’ worth.
And here—” I highlighted another line. “This account number. It’s only showing me four of the digits, but they don’t match up with my dad’s business account.
It could be the accountancy firm, but I don’t know why they’d be sending money from surgeries to their own account.
It’s all supposed to go into one business account, and my dad controls it. ”
Ryker’s brows pulled together as he studied the lists of numbers. He tapped his finger against the screen. “What’s this here? NS-MISC?”
“It stands for non-surgical, miscellaneous. Uh…I think my dad uses it sometimes for your dad’s business…
Y’know, it’s mostly cash, but sometimes it’ll be a card transaction.
He puts it through on your mum’s card or a card of one of the other women in the syndicate.
Easier to explain it away since they use the clinic for their treatments already. ”
“Okay. So we can rule those out, if they go into your dad’s account. Is there a quick way to check? Can we find all the payments that go to the unknown account?”
I sucked in a breath, the knot of tension in my stomach loosening somewhat at the reminder that I wasn’t alone in this, that my friends had my back. “Yeah, we can do that. I’m still going to have to go back through it line by line to find the other discrepancies, though.”
“Pull up the miscellaneous payments and print them out.” He swung his body off the stool, striding over to the far side of the room where our communal printer was stored on top of an ancient bureau. “Where’s the paper?”
“In the bureau.”
He loaded up the printer while I selected the relevant rows, focusing on this year’s records. I exported them and sent them to the printer, then got to work isolating the transactions that went to the unknown account.
Once they were printed, Ryker returned to the island and split the pages into two piles. “Let’s go through these and see if we can find a pattern.”
“I need this to be okay.” I hated that my voice cracked, betraying me. “I can’t have Operation Foxglove investigating my dad. If I don’t reconcile these records so everything is above board… I don’t wanna think about the consequences.”
Ryker’s gaze shot to mine, hard and determined. “It won’t come to that. I won’t fucking let it. The Hoyton Firm can put pressure on the Bellinghams if necessary.”
“I hope so.” I rubbed at my temples, where a headache was forming. “Do you think it’s connected to the failed sabotage at the port?”
“No…I don’t think so.” Ry’s mouth flattened. “It doesn’t add up with the way these police investigations are carried out. But I guess we can’t rule anything out. Maybe they’re trying new tactics.”
We exchanged glances. If the two things were connected, then this situation had the potential to unravel not just my family, but his too.