Page 14 of Slap Shot (Charm City Chill #3)

O liver

The charity scrimmage should have been pure fun, players in mismatched jerseys facing off against local business mascots and celebrity volunteers. Kids packed the lower bowl, their excited chatter echoing through the arena as Oliver skated through warm-ups.

He spotted Heather in the upper section, laptop balanced on her knees.

HR's edict meant she couldn't sit anywhere near the team bench, but he could see her splitting attention between the game and whatever security sweep she was running.

The distance from last night still hung between them like a wall neither could acknowledge publicly.

The guilt sat heavier. When Heather had asked him directly about enemies from his past, he'd given her evasive non-answers instead of the truth.

Now he was trapped by his own cowardice.

How could he admit he'd lied by omission when she'd trusted him enough to ask?

How could he explain that his former best friend was a sociopath he was ashamed to have ever called family?

"Chenny!" Kane called, passing him the puck. "Stop making googly eyes at the puck bunnies and play some hockey."

Oliver caught the pass and sent it back with more force than necessary, the aggressive play making Kane grin. His captain always appreciated intensity, even during charity games.

The real entertainment started when Liam took his turn in net, playing with theatrical flair that had the crowd in stitches.

"Come on, people," Liam called as the mascot from a local pizza chain lined up for a shot. "My grandmother moves faster than that, and she's been dead for five years."

The crowd laughed as the oversized pepperoni slice took his shot, a slow roller that Liam pretended to struggle with before finally smothering it with an overdramatic dive.

Things got interesting when Chilly the Penguin took the ice for a penalty shot. Oliver had watched Phoebe Tayler work the crowds as the team mascot for the past year, but her competitive streak always came out during these scrimmages.

"Alright, Castillo," came her muffled voice from inside the penguin costume. "Time to show these kids what real hockey looks like."

"Oh, this should be good," Liam replied, adjusting his mask. "What's a penguin know about hockey anyway? You can't even fly."

"Don't need to fly when I can skate circles around you." Phoebe shot back, making a little spin that had the kids cheering.

Oliver grinned as Phoebe wound up for the shot, deliberately telegraphing her intentions before firing the puck directly at Liam's glove. He made an exaggerated dive to his left, completely whiffing on the save as the puck slid slowly into the net.

The kids erupted in cheers while Liam lay on the ice in mock defeat. Chilly did a victory dance that involved considerable wing-flapping and what could only be described as penguin twerking.

"Lucky shot," Liam said, pulling himself upright.

"Luck?" Phoebe's voice carried clear indignation even through the costume. "That was pure skill, Castillo."

"Prove it," Liam challenged. "Best two out of three."

"You're on. But when I win, you owe me dinner."

"And if I win?"

"You won't."

As they set up for round two, Oliver glanced toward the upper section. Heather had gone completely still, her fingers frozen over her laptop keyboard. Even from the ice, he could see the rigid line of her shoulders.

Something was wrong.

The rest of the scrimmage dragged endlessly. Oliver went through the motions, high-fiving kids, posing for photos, signing autographs, but his mind was racing through possibilities. None of them were good.

In the locker room, he changed quickly while his teammates continued their post-game banter.

"Great show out there, Chenny," Kane said, toweling off his hair. "Though you seemed a little distracted."

"Long day," Oliver said, which was true enough. He grabbed his gear bag and headed for the door before anyone could ask follow-up questions.

He waited twenty minutes after most of the team had left before making his move. The building was mostly empty except for weekend staff and the cleaning crew. Oliver took the back stairwell with Charlie, avoiding the main corridors where someone might spot them.

He was almost to Heather's floor when he heard voices echoing from the main corridor. Through the stairwell door's small window, he could see Phoebe, still in the penguin costume but with the head tucked under her arm, talking with Travis Dane near the elevators.

Oliver pressed against the wall, Charlie automatically moving to heel position. If Jack's assistant caught him sneaking around the building after HR's explicit warnings, Heather would pay the price. She could lose her job.

"—told you, the equipment inventory can wait until Monday," Travis was saying.

"I know, but I'm stuck in this thing," Phoebe replied, tugging at the costume. "The zipper's completely jammed."

Oliver watched through the small window as Phoebe's gaze swept the area and landed on the stairwell door. For a split second, their eyes met through the glass. Her brow furrowed slightly, then understanding dawned across her face.

"Actually, you know what?" Travis said. "Let me just grab those files from my office real quick, then I'll help you with the costume."

He started toward the stairwell. Oliver's pulse spiked, there was nowhere to go.

"Wait!" Phoebe called out, her voice suddenly urgent. "I think it's getting tighter! I can't breathe properly in this thing!"

She began struggling dramatically with the costume, making exaggerated gasping sounds that echoed through the corridor.

Travis immediately reversed direction. "Oh shit, hold on. Let me call maintenance. They'll have tools to cut you out if necessary."

As Travis hurried away, phone already to his ear, Phoebe caught Oliver's eye through the window again and gave him the slightest nod before disappearing around the corner, still making distressed sounds about the costume.

Oliver waited until their voices faded completely before continuing up to Heather's floor. He made a mental note to thank Phoebe later. Somehow, she'd read the situation perfectly and created the ideal distraction.

He knocked once before entering Heather's office. Multiple monitors displayed scrolling code and data logs that made his chest tighten with recognition.

"I’m glad you’re here," Heather said, glancing up with relief before immediately returning to her screens. "We need to work fast. I don't know how long before someone realizes you're here."

"What happened?"

"Someone's mounted a coordinated attack using twelve different access points simultaneously.

" She gestured to the screens. "They started with our database servers, then moved to communication systems, now they're targeting personnel files.

They're not just stealing data. They're mapping our entire operational structure. "

Oliver studied the attack patterns, his mind automatically parsing the methodology. The techniques were sophisticated, layered with the kind of strategic thinking that took years to develop.

"They know exactly what systems to hit and in what order. Someone's building a complete picture of how we operate."

"It gets worse." Heather highlighted a section of code buried deep in the attack logs. "Look at this."

Oliver leaned closer and his stomach dropped. Embedded in the metadata was a message: Time to come out and play, Ghost. Your new friends are so fragile.

The taunt was nested in a recursive loop that served no functional purpose except concealment.

It was a signature technique Oliver had developed during his hacking days.

A technique he'd been stupid enough to teach to Kai Moreno, back when he'd thought they were friends instead of predator and prey.

But Kai was locked up. Had to be. He had checked last night. Maybe he should check again.

"They're not just attacking the Chill," Heather said. "They're trying to provoke you specifically. Force you into responding using your old methods."

"Which would be illegal," Oliver said, his jaw tightening. "They want me to break the law to defend the team."

"Who knows how to push your buttons like this?"

Kai.

Oliver moved to her secondary terminal, pulling up a secure browser. "Let me run a search. There are a few possibilities from my past, but I need to verify where they are now."

His search through federal inmate databases was methodical, starting with the name that made his stomach churn.

He went deeper, looking for any tampering.

When the results loaded, relief flooded through him.

Nope. Kai Moreno, federal inmate #47291, was still currently serving time at ADX Florence.

Maximum security, communications monitored, no release date scheduled.

Thank God. The thought of having to admit to Heather that he'd been naive enough to trust Kai who'd threatened to hurt people just for his own narcissistic pleasure, made him sick. Some mistakes were too shameful to confess unless absolutely necessary.

"Whoever's doing this studied my old techniques," Oliver said, closing the search window. "And is talented enough to replicate them, but I'm running down who would have that kind of skill."

"Can you help me understand their next likely moves?"

"Yeah. But we need to be smart about this, anticipate their attacks without giving them what they want."

For the next hour, they worked together to understand and counter the breach. Oliver showed Heather patterns she'd never encountered, explaining the psychology behind different hacking methodologies. She built defensive systems that turned their own infrastructure into a trap for the intruders.

"There," Heather said finally, saving their work. "All access points secured. They're locked out."

"For now." Oliver was already implementing additional safeguards. "They'll be back, probably with different approaches."