The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3) - Odette Stone

Prologue

MICA

I sat at a table in the back corner of the bar. Things had gotten way out of hand. Way past what even I would consider out of hand. I needed advice. There was only one person I wanted to talk to. I picked up my phone.

“Ryan here.”

The sound of my best friend instantly eased some tension in my body.

“Ryan, it’s Mica.” I worked to sound casual.

“What’s up, man?” He sounded distracted.

I cleared my throat and debated not bothering him, but the words came out of my mouth. “Could we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, in person.”

He sounded surprised. “When?”

“Right now.”

His voice changed. It became more serious. “You okay?”

“I fucked up.” I looked around the bar, wishing more than anything I could go home. Not an option right now.

“How bad?”

I took a deep breath. “Real bad.”

Concern clouded his voice. “Where are you?”

“At Dewey’s Pub.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Thanks.”

I put my phone down, ordered a water and waited.

Chapter 1

CHARLIE

24 hours earlier

Krista, my boss, sat in a chair in her office, while her stylist worked on pinning up her hair. I sat cross-legged on her couch with my iPad, taking notes for her. Krista ran the most illustrious PR sports agency in the country and she never stopped working.

Her eyes remained shut as she asked, “Is Jenny skating in Tokyo next week?”

I checked her file. “Doctors said she can skate, but we are waiting on her coach to decide.”

“Stay on top of that and let me know if she competes. If she does, I want us to send her flowers, and I’d like to call her.”

“Noted.”

“Where are we with Mike’s endorsement deal for that sports drink?”

“Still haven’t heard from the lawyers on the other side.”

“Give me a reminder tomorrow to call our legal team.”

“Okay.”

“Do I have tickets for the Wolves game tomorrow night?”

“I talked to the head office. They want to know if you want ice-level seats or if you want to be in the family box.”

Krista’s eyes opened and narrowed on my face. “Family box. Do you want to attend with me?”

I gritted my teeth. Out of all the sports I hated, hockey was the worst. There was nothing redeeming about the game, and Krista knew how I felt. “I have to work a shift at the bar.”

It was part of my job to attend a certain number of sporting events with Krista. She knew how much I hated hockey, and so far, in two years, I had only attended one game. I was hoping to keep that lucky streak going.

She looked at her watch. “Isn’t Mica supposed to be here by now?”

I worked to not react to the mention of his name. I prided myself on the fact that I never fell prey to the charms of the athletes that paraded through this office. I had no issue showing complete indifference to the mostly male clientele that came through our doors, except for one.

Mica Petrov.

The guy got under my skin. He was charming as hell. Stupidly good looking with his blue eyes and dark hair. When it came to wild antics, he was the biggest offender of them all. That I found him attractive was a mortifying secret I worked to hide. Usually, I covered up my feelings with borderline hostility.

I checked my watch. “Five minutes ago.”

Krista’s phone rang. She answered, leaving her phone on speaker.

“Mica, where are you?”

“Krista.” He rolled her name with his Russian accent. “I’ve hit a snag.”

“You know I hate snags. You’re supposed to be on stage with Mark Ashford in less than an hour, while he accepts an award for the Wolves.”

“Why do people plan galas for Wednesday night? It’s stupid.”

“Where are you?”

There was a pregnant pause and then he gave a half-laugh. “Don’t ask.”

“Mica Petrov,” she scolded.

Another pause from him and then, “Can you send someone to grab my tux? From my house? I can make it to the gala if someone meets me at the hotel with my tux.”

Krista looked pointedly at me. “I’ll send Charlie. How is she supposed to get in?”

I stood up and scrambled to put on my boots.

“Tell her to call me when she gets there. I’ll give her the code to my home and my alarm system.”

Krista leaned forward and hissed into the phone. “You better have a damn good reason for being late, Petrov.”

She hung up and looked at me. “Can you do this for me?”

It was my one precious night off from my second job working as a waitress, but I would do anything for Krista. “It’s fine.”

She blew me a

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