Page 47 of Rush

“Sam, this is Mike Dorian. He’s one of the directors here at the university,” Coach introduces us. Once I hear his name it registers who he is. I can picture his name on the plaque in front of the building.

I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Director Dorian.”

He shakes my hand, a warm smile on his face. “Call me Mike, Miss Campbell. I’m sorry to ambush you right after practice, but I wanted to touch base about something urgent.”

My spine straightens and my nerves spike. Somehow I manage to sit in one of the leather chairs at the large table, while Mike and my coach sit across from me. “Is something wrong?”

“No, please don’t think anything is wrong. You are in no trouble at all. I was just approached from a member of the PWHL team in Las Vegas. They wanted to know if you plan to submit a declaration for the draft this spring. This person is an old colleague of mine, and he seemed pretty adamant that you consider it,” Mike explains.

My mind blanks. Sure, I always wanted to declare if I was eligible. I thought I had at least another year though. “That seems sudden.” My mind reels through everything he said, slower this time. “Did you say Las Vegas?”

Mike nods and folds his hands on top of the table. “Yes. It appears he was tipped off about you recently and was reaching out to see when you plan to enter the draft. Your coach didn’t seem to think it was on your radar for this year, but I wanted to check with you. Maybe your plans will change now.”

I squeak out a laugh before slamming my lips shut. “Ah, no. I mean I’ve thought about it, but I don’t have any plans right now.”

Mike seems to look disappointed, but my coach is watching me intently. “Oh. Well, okay then. I will let you get on with your day. But, ah, Miss Campbell, no one would fault you if you wanted to consider it early. Your record already speaks for itself.”

I stand, taking his lead, and nod my head at him. “Thank you, sir. If anything changes, I’ll talk to Coach about it.”

Mike turns to leave and then it’s just me and my coach in the room.

“Seems you have someone looking out for you,” she says.

My face flushes. “I don’t know anyone in Vegas, Coach. And if I was planning to declare, I would talk with you about it, not only to make sure I’m eligible but also to be courteous.”

She studies my face before ushering me from the room. We walk down the hallway and into the elevator quietly. Once we reach the bottom floor, my heart is racing and the cold sweat of anxiety is trickling over my skin.

“I’ll be ready for that chat when you are, Campbell,” Coach tells me softly, before turning and leaving me at the front entrance.

I’m frozen, completely unsure about what just happened. I feel foolish, and for a second, I think Coach assumed I was trying to enter the draft without telling her. My heart lurches painfully. I don’t know anyone in Vegas. Luca, yeah, but he’s a student there. He wouldn’t have that kind of pull. Something is nagging me about the time frame. I don’t want to trust my gut on this one, but I also know he would do anything for me. The real questions are why and how?

“Sam.” My name is called behind me, and I jump, turning to find Isla walking toward me. “Sam, are you okay? You look pale.” Frown lines pull at her lips, and her eyes fill with worry.

I shake my head, feeling like my world may come crashing down. “Isla, I think I need that super-secret spy shit you do.”

She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even crack a smile. Her expression becomes worried and almost sad. “Is this about Jameson?”

Tears spring to my eyes and I nod. “How did you know?”

“Come with me.” We duck into a study room that athletes can use between practices and sit at the desk. Isla takes out her laptop and I watch as she links another device to it. It looks like an ordinary, black wi-fi box, but the information it pulls on her screen is anything but ordinary.

“Look before I tell you this, I just want to reiterate, it's not spy shit,” she says, and I bite my lip.

“Isla, it totally is. Look at your computer.”

She sighs and starts typing. “My family owns a security company. That's why I have contacts all over and can generally get certain information. Well, I can’t; it comes from my older cousins, but still, they pass it along to me. The other weekend one of them was working security for a private event in Las Vegas. They sent me this info because Jameson’s name was flagged.”

“Flagged?” I question, staring at one of my best friends like she is someone I’ve never met before but is kick ass.

She nods. “I’ve flagged everyone who’s important to me and their significant others. Therefore, if anything ever happens or there’s potential PR nightmares, I can help out. With half our friends on their way to becoming famous athletes and all the trouble Cater already gets into, this is my way of protecting all of you.”

I stare at her, and tears fill my eyes. “This may sound creepy to some, but I absolutely love that you protect all of us that way.” I lean over and hug her tightly. She hugs me back, her chin on my shoulder. “Carter is a freaking idiot.”

Isla smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The confrontation from my birthday night still weighs heavily on her, even though we’ve reassured her a hundred times that it's him and not her.

“Anyways, Jameson’s name was flagged as being at the event. It was a dinner party with a lot of influential men and women. One of those men being Court Nieland. He’s a big deal with the Las Vegas PWHL board.” Isla clicks through some images and I see Jameson and Luca. Both wearing suits that cost more money than is in my savings account. Jameson’s usually messy hair is styled back and his neck tattoo of my lip mark is on display. He looks like he’s made of money, which doesn’t coincide with the man I know.

“Do you know why he was there? I know he was visiting our friend Luca. Was it a school thing?”