Page 144 of Dating Goals
Malcolm jumps. “What the hell is that?”
“This is Otto. He’s an African Grey parrot,” Maggie says proudly. “And he catches bad guys for kicks and giggles.”
Malcolm’s composure cracks. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Actually, we do,” Kevin says, clicking his tongue. “A greedy man, who thought he could steal from hockey fans.”
“Bad idea,” Coach Knight adds, tapping his stick against the floor. “Very bad idea.”
“You won’t get away with this,” Malcolm snarls. “I have connections.”
“Are you sure about that?” Emily chirps. “I just checked my phone. The NHL Board of Governors has called an emergency meeting. You’re about to be the former owner of the Toronto Titans.”
“You can’t prove anything.”
Uncle Whitey shakes his head. “Oh, shut yer gob, ya manky wee scrote. Ye wouldn’t last one day in Southie.”
“We have the transaction records,” I say. “Every dollar you siphoned from investors, including your players.”
“And the emails,” Siobhan adds. “The ones where you called the players ‘overpaid muscle with the collective IQ of a hockey puck.’”
Owen gestures to everyone present, still recording on his GoPro. “That’s funny, because this overpaid muscle just helped take down your empire.”
Mikael crosses his arms across his chest. “I spent six years as captain watching you squeeze every dollar from this team while paying female staff half what they deserve.”
“I have no control over the going wage in Canada,” Malcolm spits.
“How about we let the public decide?” Hannah chimes in. “Your social media nightmare starts in approximately three minutes.”
“You people have no clue about running a multi-million-dollar sports franchise,” Malcolm sputters.
Coach Knight laughs. “Son, I’ve spent decades managing team budgets on a shoestring. I understand enough to know when someone’s skimming off the top.”
“The lockout was just a distraction,” Liam realizes aloud. “You needed time to move assets offshore before anyone noticed.”
“You orchestrated everything,” Emily observes. “The CBA negotiations, the NHLPA. You poked the bear.”
Chase inches toward the bookcase, trying to be subtle. “This is preposterous. I demand you all leave immediately.”
“Looking for your escape tunnel?” I ask quietly. “The one behind the bookcase?”
Malcolm makes a break for it, lunging toward the bookcase and yanking on a disguised lever. The shelves swing open with a mechanical hum, revealing a dimly lit corridor.
He darts inside, only to crash directly into Showalter and two FIS agents coming the other way. They pull Malcolm back into the study.
“Malcolm Chase,” Showalter says, handcuffs already out. “You’re under arrest for securities fraud, embezzlement, money laundering, conspiracy to defraud, and operating a criminal enterprise across international borders.”
“Nobody makes a fool of me,” he spits, glaring at me.
I can’t help but smile. “You’ve done a good job of that yourself.”
Uncle Whitey chuckles while helping himself to Malcolm’s cigars. “In the old country, we at least had the decency to be proper criminals.”
“Thank you, Uncle Whitey,” Sawyer says. “That’s quite enough from you.”
Chase glowers at Whitey and Sawyer as the agent secures his wrists behind his back.
“Your assets have been frozen,” Showalter informs him. “Your accounts are being audited as we speak.”
