Page 43 of The Off Limits Captain
“Hi,” I say.
“Peyton. Are you at the arena?”
“That is an oddly specific greeting.”
“The national broadcast showed the owner’s box.”
I close my eyes. “I appreciate everyone’s commitment to surveillance.”
“I’m coming to San Antonio next month.”
My eyes open. “Why?”
“Meetings. People who know people. Nothing that would have anything to do with you.”
There it is. The second sentence that gives the first one away.
I lean against the wall, watching through the suite doorway as Ryan disappears down the tunnel surrounded by men who trust him, challenge him, and make his life visibly harder. “Dad.”
“It is only a meeting.”
“With who?”
“Hartley knows everyone worth knowing here.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Of course he does.”
“You should think about how it looks,” he says. “A hard piece about the team. Then Hartley’s box. Then my name next to his in the business section.”
“It looks like three things that are true and unrelated.”
“True and unrelated does not run anywhere. You know that better than I do.”
I do.
That is the part I hate.
“I’m not asking you to stop,” he says. “I’m telling you that if the day comes when someone wants the story gone, they won’t touch the story. They’ll touch you.”
“I didn’t call to upset you.”
“Then next time lead with the weather.”
He sighs. “I want to see you.”
It settles softer than I want it to.
On the other side of the glass, Samantha lifts her camera and catches one last shot of the emptying ice.
I look at the rink, at the owner’s suite, at the polite hallway designed to make every hard thing sound manageable.
“I’m working,” I say.
“You’re always working.”
I think of Ryan’s glance during warmups. No smile. Just heat and warning and something rawer under both.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s becoming a problem.”
