Fair Play (Hat Trick, Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

posterior. Only not in those exact words.
    It felt good. Really good. Like she’d reclaimed something
she hadn’t known she’d lost—her spirit.
    Mike shot her a quick smile as he sailed past, already in
the game.
    The joy returned.

Chapter Three
     
    Garrick strode into the arena, his teeth locked together
with grim determination. He was not going to limp. He was not going to limp. He refused to fucking limp.
    A mid-week staff meeting at the beginning of a series of
home games was unusual. Likely someone had been fired, hired, drafted in, dealed
out or was in deep-shit trouble.  He dreamed fleetingly that Bobby Kramer was
getting his ass fired, as he so richly deserved, but Garrick doubted he or
Savannah would be so fortunate. He’d known the moment Mark had caught up with
Bobby a week ago. If looks could kill, Garrick and the team’s esteemed trainer
would have died one hundred times over. Bobby was in a rage, but it was a quiet
rage he was keeping to himself, so Garrick couldn’t do much about it.
    He strode without a hint of a goddamn limp into the meeting
room and scanned the crowd. He immediately caught Bobby’s gaze and was treated
to another death-ray stare. Whatever.
    Rhian sidled down a row of seats at the front of the room.
Garrick found Savannah when Rhian sat down next to her.
    Of course the most handsome man in the room was
sitting next to Savannah. His friend’s ridiculous good looks didn’t usually bother
Garrick, but this morning they absolutely irritated the shit out of him.
    He slid down the same row and sat on Savannah’s other side. She
acknowledged him with a glance and something that might even qualify as a smile
before turning back to Rhian. “I think the increased reps will make a
difference, build strength…”
    Garrick shook his head. They were talking about work, of
course. What else did Savannah talk about with anyone on the team?
    Garrick glanced over his shoulder. Bobby was still at it, trying
to burn holes in the backs of his and Savannah’s heads.
    Bobby had issues. Big buckets full of issues. Garrick worried
those issues would spill onto Savannah again before this thing was done.
    Mark, Rick, and the rest of the team’s senior staff came
into the room, and people moved to their seats. When Rupert Smythe entered the
room, instant silence descended.
    Rupert was a tall and slender man—and as far as Garrick
could tell, perennially nervous. His hand worried the handle of his briefcase,
his gaze darting around the room. Garrick would bet his last nickel Rupert’s
palms were sweaty and that he’d scream like a little girl if someone sneaked up
behind him and yelled “boo!”
    As entertaining as that thought was, Rupert’s attendance at
this meeting likely meant bad news. He had only met Rupert three times in
twelve years. During that time, as now, the team was owned by Edwin Lamont, a
notorious recluse who reportedly never left his estate on Cape Breton Island.
Instead, Lamont sent Rupert as his proxy to play the role of business manager
and mouthpiece.
    The “someone is in deep-shit trouble” category was now at
the top of the list of possible reasons for this meeting.
     
    From the stifling silence that held the tongues of the
usually bawdy and outspoken crowd, Savannah knew the stranger at the front of
the room was either very important or very dangerous. The way Garrick watched the
man through narrowed eyes made her think their mystery guest might be both.
    He looked to be in his thirties. His bespoke charcoal suit flattered
his broad shoulders and long legs, and if she wasn’t mistaken, was likely more
valuable than her entire wardrobe. Even the fluorescent lighting couldn’t dull
the gleam of his oxblood leather briefcase.  Gold flashed on his wrist. His
fingers shook. Her unease multiplied.
    “Hello, everyone!” He addressed their group in a crisp English
accent.
    No one responded.
    The man blinked a few times, swallowed hard, and smiled
weakly. Her dread, along