CHAPTER 9 #2
“That was not the question.”
“No,” Olivia replied. “It was the relevant answer.”
The reporter turned to Alex. “Captain, did you spend the night in Ms. Carter’s room?”
“The suite had a sofa.”
“So that is a yes?”
Alex’s gaze moved to Olivia.
For one dangerous second, she thought he might tell the truth simply because he hated giving strangers power over it.
Then he said, “My private life has no effect on tonight’s roster.”
“You are suspended,” the reporter reminded him.
“Then it has even less effect.”
Coach Davis pushed them toward the bus.
On the ride to the airport, Olivia received a message from her father.
CALL ME NOW.
She did not.
Alex sat across the aisle, expression controlled. He had not mentioned the kiss since dawn. He had not repeated his warning that it changed every room. Somehow the restraint irritated her more than pressure would have.
She wanted him to look at her.
He spent the flight reviewing game footage.
By the time they landed in Chicago, her irritation had matured into anger at herself.
The first kiss had been reckless. The second would be a decision. She did not intend to make it while under threat, in a compromised hotel, or because Alex’s jealousy made her feel desired in ways she had trained herself not to need.
The moment they entered Titan Crown, work consumed them.
The missing communications director, Elaine Foster, had been found at her sister’s house. She claimed she left because someone threatened her son after she discovered altered medical files in the media archive. She had copied the files to an external drive and hidden it inside the arena.
Before she could retrieve it, Martin Vale confronted her.
Olivia interviewed Elaine in a secure conference room while Alex waited outside.
“Did you see what was in the files?” Olivia asked.
“Player clearances. Insurance communications. A video from a development scrimmage.”
“Evan Hale?”
Elaine nodded. “The video shows Alex checking him. Evan gets up, finishes the shift, then collapses later near the bench.”
“So Alex’s hit did not cause the collapse.”
“I am not a doctor. But the internal notes say the team knew about a cardiac abnormality before the scrimmage.”
“Who knew?”
“The original list was removed.”
“Where is the drive?”
Elaine gave her a locker number in the old equipment corridor.
Olivia left the room and found Alex leaning against the wall.
“What did she say?”
She told him.
Relief did not appear. Only a deeper anger.
“They knew he was sick,” he said.
“Someone did.”
“And they let him play.”
“We need the drive.”
“I’ll get it.”
“We will.”
His eyes met hers. “Together.”
The correction felt like an offered hand.
They crossed the arena through back corridors away from cameras. The old equipment level had not been renovated in a decade. Fluorescent tubes hummed above dented lockers and storage cages filled with retired gear.
Locker 117 stood at the far end.
The combination Elaine provided opened it.
Inside was a duffel bag.
Alex checked it before allowing Olivia closer. The external drive lay beneath old practice jerseys.
So did a folder with her name on it.
Olivia reached for it.
Alex caught the folder first.
The movement was too fast.
Too protective.
Too guilty.
“What is that?” she asked.
“Nothing related to Elaine.”
“My name is on it.”
“I know.”
“Give it to me.”
His grip tightened.
Every fragile piece of trust from the hotel shifted.
“Alex.”
He looked toward the corridor as if calculating whether danger elsewhere could postpone this one.
Then he handed her the folder.
Inside were security reports.
Her addresses in New York.
Flights.
Professional meetings.
Photographs of her entering restaurants, offices, and apartment buildings.
Three years of her life reduced to dates and locations.
One report included the name of a man she had dated for six months.
A handwritten note in the margin read: NO ACTIVE THREAT. CONTINUE PASSIVE MONITORING.
The initials beneath it were A.M.
Olivia could hear her own heartbeat.
“You said my father asked you to watch me after the threats,” she said. “You did not say it continued for three years.”
Alex’s face held no defense. That made it worse.
“When did he tell you to stop?”
“Two years ago.”
“And you continued.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His gaze did not leave hers. “Because I needed to know you were safe.”
Rage rose so cleanly it steadied her.
“You tracked my flights.”
“Yes.”
“My apartment.”
“Yes.”
“The people I dated.”
His jaw tightened. “Yes.”
The final admission hurt differently.
“Did you interfere?”
Silence.
Olivia stepped closer. “Did you interfere with my relationships?”
“One.”
The corridor seemed to narrow.
“What did you do?”
“He had gambling debts and connections to a bookmaker under investigation.”
“What did you do, Alex?”
“I told him to leave you alone.”
“And he did.”
“Yes.”
She remembered Jonathan ending their relationship after one strange phone call, refusing to explain why he suddenly needed distance.
All this time, she had blamed herself.
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that as though awareness erases the act.”
“It does not.”
She shoved the folder against his chest. “You kissed me while holding this secret.”
His expression cracked.
“I should have told you.”
“You should never have done it.”
Footsteps sounded at the far end of the corridor.
Alex moved automatically, positioning himself between her and the sound.
Olivia stepped around him.
“Do not.”
He stopped.
Daniel appeared with Luke, both carrying equipment bags. Daniel took one look at Olivia’s face and lost his usual smile.
“What happened?”
“Ask your captain,” she said.
She walked past them.
Alex followed for three steps.
“Olivia.”
She turned.
The apology in his eyes nearly weakened her. That infuriated her more.
“You wanted me to believe that kiss was a choice,” she said. “But you have been shaping my choices for years.”
“It was your choice.”
“How would I know? You never let me see the whole board.”
She left him standing beneath the fluorescent lights with the surveillance folder in his hands.
Her phone buzzed before she reached the elevator.
Unknown number.
The new photograph showed Alex and her in the equipment corridor, taken seconds earlier.
Beneath it:
HE WATCHES YOU. WE WATCH HIM.
Then a second message arrived.
ASK HIM WHO ORDERED THE FIRST REPORT.