Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2)
Read Game Over (The Baltimore Banners Book 2) Online
Authors: Lisa B. Kamps
Copyright © 2015 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.
The Baltimore Banners© is a fictional professional ice hockey team, created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of copyright.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.
Artwork by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art
Table of Contents
For years, we talked about the writing and the business. We served together, lost touch, stayed friends, watched the kids grow up and get older, laughed and joked.
You never lost sight of the prize, and never hesitated to share your wisdom and your advice and your motivation.
Thank you!
Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories
(anthology)
Silhouette Special Edition
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 1)
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 2)
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 3)
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 4)
Coming Soon:
Break Away
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 5)
Delay of Game
(The Baltimore Banners, Book 6)
Gray. Everything was gray.
Gray walls, gray carpeting, gray furniture. Even the building's exterior was gray. Everything about the place made Bobbi feel washed out, drained.
She leaned back in the uncomfortable chair—gray, of course—and faced the man across from her. "So out with it, Denny. Why the cryptic summons?"
"Cryptic? You're obviously overreacting and reading too much—" He broke off when she grabbed her bag from the floor and stood. She didn't have time to take even one step before he moved in front of her, blocking her.
Bobbi looked up at him with her most bored expression, letting him know that his move had no effect on her. The tension flared between them, and she had a brief moment of satisfaction when a sliver of discomfort broke free from his otherwise polished veneer. The discomfort was brief, gone before anyone else would have seen it.
But she was not anyone else, and she knew Denny too well.
"Denny, I do not have time for this. You asked me here. You obviously want something. Stop playing games."
He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender that Bobbi didn't believe for one second. His dark eyes lit with momentary humor as he took a step back and leaned against the desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him. To the casual observer, he would have looked like any other businessman enjoying a rare moment of relaxation in his office as he talked to a client.
Bobbi knew better. She wasn't a client, and most businessmen didn't wear a 9 millimeter concealed in a shoulder holster under their tailored jacket. And no matter how relaxed Denny may have looked to anyone else, she could feel the tension surrounding him, could hear the low thrum of energy that was always a part of him.
"I have an inside job you would be perfect for." His voice now was serious, the tone flat and cool. Bobbi inwardly sighed at the change.
This
was the Denny she was all-too-familiar with, the one she was never completely comfortable with, no matter how many years she had known him.
"I'm not looking for work. You know that."
"I do. But I'm asking you as a personal favor—"
"Favor? You have no right to ask anything of me!" The sharp words hung between them and Bobbi inwardly winced. The words held too much emotion—emotion she had long since buried and moved away from.
"You're right, I don't." Denny straightened from his perch against the desk and glanced around the office, at the walls and floor, anywhere but at her. It was another tactic designed to play on guilt and sympathy, and she wasn't buying it.
So play his game, Bobbi thought. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder and crossed her arms, then waited.
The silence stretched on for minutes, reminding Bobbi that she was playing with a pro. She almost called it quits, and was about to walk out of the office when Denny finally spoke—as she knew he would.
"I'd like for you to go undercover as a personal assistant to investigate a potential extortion case."
Personal assistant? Extortion? Bobbi almost laughed until she realized Denny was serious. And still she had to keep her disbelief in check, even when she took the file he handed her and sat back down. Surprise filled her when she saw the picture clipped to the inside page.
The face was immediately familiar. Sparkling blue eyes, dark sandy hair that was just a bit too long and shaggy, a chiseled jaw and sculpted cheekbones. Attractive in a very rugged way.
Nikolai Petrovich, one of the leading defenseman for the Baltimore Banners.
"So you think a local hockey player is being extorted? And this requires investigation from your office because...?"
"He's Russian. And we're fairly certain he
is
being extorted. To the tune of millions."
Millions? Bobbi had trouble believing that. She closed the file and tossed it back on the desk then took a minute to study the man still standing to her side. He had always stood apart, had always been surrounded by an aura of command that drew the eye. She knew it but didn't understand it, even after falling for it firsthand. And despite the experience of their brief and less-than-ideal marriage, she still felt his draw on her.
But she didn't trust him. She never had. "I'm sorry, but I don't get it. Why would you want me for something so...simple?"
"The job is easy enough and yes, I have dozens of people who could do it." He lowered himself into the chair and leaned closer to her, studying her with a blank look that was more intense because of its remoteness. "But I'm asking you as a personal favor."
"You lost that right a long time ago." But despite her aloofness, Bobbi was intrigued, for reasons she didn't understand. She shifted, moving slightly away from him, trying to find the hidden catch. Because there
was
a catch. There was always a catch with Denny.
He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts because he leaned even closer, not stopping until he was only inches from her. Denny's voice was a husky whisper, warm, caressing. "I just need you to get close to Petrovich, see if you can get him to open up to you. Then follow the trail and see where it leads."
Seducing. He was actually trying to seduce her! The sad part was that his ploy was actually working. The bastard.
Bobbi leaned back, putting distance between them and not caring if he took it as a weakness. "I'm a forensic accountant, Denny, not a secretary. This is too easy. What aren't you telling me?"
"I'm not sure—"
"Enough of the games. What is it you want me to do? For once, play straight with me and lay things on the line."
"Play straight? I don't think that's fair—"
"Fair has nothing to do with anything. You taught me that."
Bobbi watched him in the ensuing silence, saw brief emotion swirl through his dark eyes. His body language shifted subtly, becoming all business. This Denny was almost as dangerous as the relaxed one.
Almost, but not quite. Because she never let her guard down with this version.
"As I said before, it's relatively easy. You go in as his personal assistant. Get close to him. Monitor his moves, see what you can find out. As his personal assistant, you can gain access to his financials. As a forensic accountant, you can analyze any irregularities. Then just...report back to me."
"If you're convinced he's being extorted out of millions, how can he afford a personal assistant? From what I know about it, they're not cheap. And is Petrovich even a big enough star to warrant a personal assistant?"
Denny leaned back, casually crossing one ankle over his knee and sharpening the crease of his pants leg. Bobbi recognized it as a stalling ploy, just as she was sure Denny meant her to. He let out a breath then turned back to her, and she was surprised to see one corner of his mouth turn up in a mocking grin.
"You're not being hired or paid by Petrovich, but by the team itself. And 'personal assistant' might be a bit of a stretch."
Bobbi raised her brows in silent question, and noticed that Denny actually looked a little uncomfortable—much like a little boy who had just been caught dropping lizards into the teacher's desk drawer. Caught, but completely unrepentant.
"Apparently Petrovich is a bit of a wild-card. Unpredictable off the ice, refusing to show up at sponsored events. I believe they're looking more for a...handler...than a personal assistant."
"You mean a babysitter?"
"That would probably be a good word, yes."
Bobbi leaned forward and grabbed the file from the desk, thumbing through what few pages there were. "And you think a 'babysitter' could gain access to his financials?"
"No. But I think you could."
She looked over at Denny, her eyes narrowed as she tried to find a hidden meaning in his words. She decided it wasn't worth the effort and turned back to the file. Her eyes were drawn again to the picture of Petrovich, and his sparkling blue eyes. A sign of just another spoiled jock? Or an act hiding something deeper? Extortion? Or just bad business practices?
She studied the eyes a few minutes longer, intrigue and curiosity pulling her in a direction she knew she should avoid. With a mental sigh she closed the file and handed it to Denny. It wasn't like she had any other pressing obligations demanding her time. "Fine. I'll do it. On two conditions." Bobbi grabbed her bag and stood, not surprised when Denny rose as well.
He leaned closer, and she caught a whiff of his subtle, expensive cologne. "They are?"
"One: I'm allowed leeway. I go in on my terms and report when I'm ready. If I don't think there's anything there, I'm done."
"That's a little too much freedom."
"Take it or leave it."
There was a slight pause as Denny stepped even closer, liquid warmth swirling in his dark eyes. His hand cupped her elbow, putting just the tiniest pressure on her, drawing her toward him. "Okay, done. And two?"
She pulled her arm from his grip and stepped back, fixing him with a steady glare. "No games. You play straight with me, all the time, or I'm done."
Denny watched as she tightened her hold on her bag and walked out of the office. He was still leaning against the desk, his arms folded, deep in thought, when Howard Kessler walked in.
"She agreed to it?"
Denny faced his boss and gave him a curt nod. "She did."
"But you're not pleased with the idea?"
"As long as we get what we want, I'll be pleased."
"Then why do I detect some hesitancy?"
"Because what we want is not the same as what Bobbi would want."
There was a short pause as Howard studied him. "Is this going to be a problem for you? After all, the two of you were married."
Denny shook his head. "Past tense, a long time ago. No, there won't be a problem."
