Body Check (27 page)

“His lobby's the size of our whole apartment,” she marveled as the quick moving, silent elevator sped upwards.

Janna nodded. “I know.”

“What does he pay a month in rent?”

“If I told you, you would drop dead.” The elevator doors snapped back at the Fifty-second floor.

“Try me,” urged Theresa, following Janna out into the long, silent hall.

“Twelve thousand a month.”

Theresa whistled through her teeth. “That is one rich boyfriend you have there.”

“He's not my boyfriend.”

“Right.”

They had come to Ty's door and Janna rang the bell. A minute later, a small, dimpled Spanish woman in jeans and a Yankees sweatshirt opened the door.

“Hello, Miss Janna. Come in, come in.”

Janna and Theresa stepped over the threshold and into the marble foyer. “Inez, I want you to meet my friend Theresa. Theresa, this is Inez, Ty's personal assistant.”

Inez chuckled. “I am his housekeeper.” She extended a hand to Theresa. “Very pleased to meet you.”

Moving to the coat closet, she took both women's coats from them and hung them up, gesturing for them to remove their boots as well. Struggling out of her boots, Janna could see Theresa was agog at the sheer size of Ty's apartment, her gaze traveling in circles around and around the immense, glass-walled living room.

“This place is amazing,” she murmured to Janna as they followed Inez towards the couch.

“I know.”

“A little cold, though. Talk him into getting some plants or something.” They sat down.

“What can I get you ladies?” Inez was asking. “There is coffee, tea, brandy, hot chocolate. Senor Gallagher is just getting out of the Jacuzzi, his back is very bad. He'll be with you in a minute.”

“Coffee would be fine for me, Inez,” said Janna.

“Me, too,” Theresa chimed in.

Janna rose. “Let me get it, Inez. Please.” She hated being waited on.

“It's no problem. I will get you your drinks, then I'll be going. Tell Senor Gallagher there is a pan of lasagna in the refrigerator for him, and soup in the freezer. There are also cookies in the cabinet if you want a treat with your coffee.”

Janna and Theresa both nodded. Neither of them said anything while Inez prepared their coffee. Theresa was still taken with the size of Ty's apartment, while Janna preferred to wait until Inez left to speak freely. Within seconds of her departure, Ty came out of the bedroom in sweats and a T-shirt, his gait stiff, a faint grimace on his face.

“Jacuzzi didn't help?” Janna asked, concerned.

“Not really. I have painkillers but I hate taking them, since they make me nauseous as hell.” He went to Janna, planting a quick kiss on her mouth before turning to Theresa and extending his hand. “Glad you could come.”

“Let's just say I'm intrigued,” Theresa replied politely.

“Ty, why don't you sit down and I'll get you some coffee?” Janna offered. “You're walking like Frankenstein.”

“Thanks.” He carefully sank down in the overstuffed leather chair opposite the couch while Janna went into the kitchen. She thought she detected a slight tension between Theresa and Ty, mainly on Theresa's part. Perhaps she didn't trust Ty because he was Lubov's teammate. Or maybe it had more to do with a sense of loyalty; she was Janna's friend and was wary about him hurting her. Whatever it was, Janna hoped it dissipated soon.

She brought the coffee out to Ty, resuming her seat on the couch next to Theresa. “Inez says to tell you there's lasagna in the fridge and soup in the freezer.”

“Did she leave me any Girl Scout cookies? She better have.”

“Cookies are in the cabinet,” Janna soothed. “Does anyone want some?” No one did. Ty took a sip of coffee, the oversized mug clasped between his large, rough hands. “I want to talk to you about Lubov,” he began.

Theresa and Janna held their breath.

“Up until now, I've given Lubov the benefit of the doubt.” His gaze landed squarely on Theresa. “I don't mean that as any disrespect to you. It just means that as his captain, my job has been to stand behind him and support him. That's what teammates do for one another, especially when something like this happens.” Distress overtook his face. “I no longer feel I can support Alexei.”

“Why?” asked Theresa.

His glance shot quickly to Janna. “I've seen him harass other women. ”

“And so?” Theresa prompted, still guarded.

“So I intend to do something about it. But first, I think you should drop the lawsuit against him.”

“Forget it.”

Ty remained calm. “Theresa, let me explain something to you. I've been a professional athlete for a very long time, all right? I've seen this happen before. The plaintiff rarely wins. If she does, it's only because she's got witnesses and rock solid proof to back her up. You don't have either.” He took another sip of coffee. “The other thing you don't have is unlimited financial resources. Lubov does. He could tie this up for years and bankrupt you in the process. Is that what you want?”

“I'd rather go bankrupt than let him get away with what he did.”

“He won't get away with it. He'll pay. That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“How?” Janna demanded. “What's going to happen to him?”

“I'm going to set him straight.”

Theresa chuckled in disbelief. “And what does that mean? You're going to beat him up? What?”

“I'm going to hit him where it hurts: with his teammates.”

Janna and Theresa stared at him blankly.

“I don't understand,” said Theresa.

“How do I explain this without sounding like a bad comic book?” Ty paused, struggling for the right words. “Hockey players are like warriors, okay? There's a bond between us, a code of honor, if you will. If one of the warriors lets his team down by breaking the code, he pays a price. That price is the shame of bringing dishonor on his brothers, a shame that results in being shunned by the people who mean the most to him, his teammates.” Janna and Theresa both listened intently. “Up until now, Lubov hasn't had to worry at all about what the team thinks about the lawsuit, because the word we got from Corporate was to basically keep our mouths shut about it in public.

“But that doesn't mean we have to keep quiet in private. If I, as captain, go into that locker room and tell them that what Lubov did was an unacceptable disgrace, I guarantee you he will never harass another woman again. That's what you want, isn't it?”

“I want justice,” Theresa replied in a quivering voice. She was struggling hard to hold back tears. Janna put a protective arm around her shoulders.

“You'll get justice. But not through the courts, trust me. You go through the legal system, and all that's going to happen is he's going to win and you're going to crawl away broken and poor, your reputation in the trash can.”

“But if I drop the suit, won't people think I'm guilty?”

“Dropping the suit doesn't mean dropping the ball. Settle out of court and bleed the bastard for as much as you can get. I'll take care of the rest.”

“Why?” Theresa sounded leery. “Why do you want to do this?”

“Because I should have done it right from the start. It makes me sick to think I have someone like that on my team, and I cannot, will not, let a cancer like that go unchecked. If it does, Christ only knows what will happen to the next woman who tells him no, and I don't want that on my conscience.” He paused, letting what he'd said sink in. “Finally, I need to make sure all my guys are on the same page or this could wind up hurting us at precisely the time we need to be the most focused. Does that answer your question?”

Theresa nodded reluctantly. She turned to Janna, her expression agonized. “What do you think I should do, Jan? Be honest.”

Janna reached for her coffee cup to buy herself some time. Ever since Theresa had brought suit against Lubov, Janna had tried to temper Theresa's quest for justice by pointing out that her chances of winning were slim. Even Theresa's lawyer agreed, and had in fact been pressing her for a huge out-of-court settlement for some time. But Theresa would not—or could not—hear them. Settling out of court seemed to her tantamount to admitting defeat, and to some extent, Janna agreed with her. On the other hand, something was better than nothing, which was probably exactly what Theresa would get if she forced the issue to go to trial and lost.

“I think Ty's right,” Janna said quietly. “It would be one thing if there was irrefutable evidence proving Lubov's guilt, but there isn't. There's just your word against his. I think if it went to trial, you'd lose, and Lubov would walk away feeling invincible. It would allow him to keep on harassing women with impunity, because he'd know that all he'd have to do is throw gobs of money at a team of lawyers every time he got in trouble.” She squeezed Theresa's shoulder. “Settle out of court and let Ty take care of the rest.”

Theresa looked down at her hands folded primly in her lap, pained. Above her head, Ty's eyes caught Janna's, his expression questioning. Janna gave a small shrug, keeping her arm tight around Theresa, who was clearly struggling with what to do. Janna gave her a lot of credit. It couldn't be easy to come here, without knowing why you were being summoned in the first place, and be told by someone you didn't really know, and possibly didn't even like, that you didn't have a chance in hell of winning your lawsuit. Not only had Theresa agreed to come, but she'd also listened to Ty with an open mind. It was a testament to Theresa's strength of character and her desire to do the right thing. Janna admired her for it.

The pregnant silence in the immense room seemed to stretch out for infinity, the only sound Ty's coffee mug hitting the glass coffee table when he set it down. Finally, Theresa raised her head.

“When would you speak with the team?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” Ty said without hesitation. “I can call a special team meeting tomorrow.”

Theresa looked to Janna, then back again to Ty.

“Do it,” she said.

 

 

 

 

Ty didn't care
if some of his guys had been out on the town the night before, or if others were looking forward to stretching out in the sweet bosom of their family with bagels and coffee while reading the
Sunday Times
. The choice of the day and the hour had been deliberate, another of his devices for testing team loyalty. And when Ty said eight, he didn't mean eight-ish. He meant eight.

He'd called Kevin the night before, relaying the details of his discussion with Janna and Theresa. Kevin was behind him one hundred percent. In fact, Kevin, being an old-fashioned western Canadian whose sense of morality was rigidly defined, seemed even more incensed with Lubov than he was. Hell, if
Kevin
was gritting his teeth and calling Lubov every obscenity in the book, then Ty was certain the baby-faced Russian bastard deserved what was coming.

Adrenaline pounding, he arrived in the locker room at seven-thirty, followed by Kevin a few minutes later. Silently, they sat on the wooden bench in front of their lockers, watching as the rest of the team dribbled through the door. Some were sleepy and resentful, others wide awake and chipper. All brought with them a sense of anxious anticipation that made the room feel electric. When Lubov sauntered in, his smug face hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, Ty politely asked him to remove them, explaining he wanted to be able to see all the players' eyes when he spoke. Lubov reluctantly complied, the defiance on his face rapidly fading as Ty and Kevin's unyielding stares followed him all the way to his locker.

At precisely eight, Ty stood and surveyed the room. Satisfied all were present, he locked the door. The tension ratcheted up a notch. It was Sunday, after all, no coaches or trainers around. Locking the door was an unmistakable sign that he meant business. With all eyes on him, he returned to the space in front of his own locker, where he remained standing.

Slowly, one by one, he made eye contact with each of the players. A few guys looked away, unable to bear the scrutiny. Others gave him a feeble smile, unsure of what else to do. He saw fear in the eyes of some of his players, uncertainty, love and respect in the eyes of others. When he got to Lubov, he stared long and hard, his expression cold and appraising. Lubov tried at first to hold his gaze, but couldn't. Clearly uncomfortable, his eyes dropped down to the floor. Ty continued staring at him. He could feel the room holding its breath.

“I called you here today because I want to talk to you about winning the Stanley Cup.” A palpable ripple of relief surged through the overheated room. “When I look around this locker room, do you know what I see?” Once again, his eyes checked out every player in the room. “I see two kinds of players: those who have won the Cup before and know what it takes, and those who don't.” His laserlike gaze fixed itself on Lubov. “Alex here falls into the latter category, having joined the Blades just this year. Alex doesn't know how to win the Stanley Cup. Because if he did, he never would have behaved so stupidly.”

Lubov opened his mouth to protest, but Ty silenced him with a look.

“I want to explain something to those of you who've never won the Cup, okay? Winning the Cup is about going to war. It's about blood and guts. When I hear some of you morons complaining about how hard it's getting now that it's crunch time in the regular season, I don't know whether to laugh at your naivete or cry because of your lack of balls. You think it's rough now? Now, before we've hit the Playoffs? Gimme a fucking break.”