Page 28 of Slap Shot (Charm City Chill #3)

H eather

The next morning arrived too quickly. Heather stood at her kitchen counter, forcing herself to eat toast while Oliver reviewed their evidence presentation one more time. They'd managed maybe three hours of sleep after organizing everything, and it showed in the shadows under his eyes.

"We should head out soon," she said, checking the time. "We want to catch Jack before Travis gets in at eight."

"You sure Travis won't come in early today?" Oliver asked, closing his laptop.

"He never does. I've been tracking building access for weeks. Jack arrives at seven-thirty, Travis at eight on the dot. We'll have thirty minutes alone with Jack before we have to worry about Travis showing up."

Charlie trotted over, resting his head on Oliver's knee. The dog had been anxious all morning, picking up on their tension despite their attempts to stay calm.

"Let's go ruin someone's day," Oliver said, scratching behind Charlie's ears.

"Let's go save the team," Heather corrected.

The drive to the arena felt surreal. Morning commuters filled the streets, heading to normal jobs where they wouldn't be accusing their colleagues of conspiracy and sabotage. Heather envied them their ordinary problems.

They arrived at seven-twenty, the executive floor was still quiet except for the light coming from Jack's office. Heather could hear his voice on a phone call, something about season ticket packages and renewal rates.

"Ready?" Oliver asked.

She nodded, though 'ready' wasn't quite the right word. They knocked on Jack's door frame.

Jack looked up from his desk, surprise crossing his features. "Dr. Quincy, Oliver. I wasn't expecting you. Is something wrong?"

"We need to talk to you about the security situation," Heather said. "It's urgent."

"I thought we resolved that when the authorities arrested Kai Moreno?" Jack gestured for them to sit. "Has he managed to access our systems from custody?"

"No, but—" Heather pulled out her laptop. "Jack, Kai wasn't working alone."

Jack's expression shifted from confusion to concern. "What do you mean?"

"Someone inside the organization has been helping him. Feeding him information, providing access to restricted systems, identifying targets for his attacks."

"That's impossible. My senior staff has been with me for years. I trust these people."

Heather opened her laptop, pulling up the evidence they'd compiled. "I know this is difficult to hear, but the data is conclusive. Someone with high-level administrative access has been systematically stealing information and passing it to Kai."

She showed him the access logs first, walking through the pattern of breaches that aligned perfectly with Travis's digital footprint. Jack's frown deepened with each slide.

"These timestamps correspond with Travis Dane's credentials," Jack said slowly. "But that doesn't mean—Travis has been my right hand since I bought this team. There has to be another explanation."

"I thought so too," Heather said. "So, I set a trap."

She explained the honeypot files, the fabricated information designed to catch their leak. Jack listened in silence as she showed how Travis had accessed those fake files and how they'd appeared word-for-word in yesterday's attack blogs.

"Only Travis accessed these files," she continued. "And they were completely fabricated. There's no other way that information could have gotten to those bloggers unless Travis gave it to them."

Jack stood abruptly, moving to his windows. The harbor stretched out below, peaceful in the morning light. "You're telling me Travis has been sabotaging this organization? Why? What possible reason could he have?"

Oliver spoke for the first time. "We have his communications with Kai. Would you like to see them?"

Jack turned back, his face grim. "Show me."

The messages were damning. Travis discussing Coach Vicky's "problematic influence," planning the salary leaks to create team discord, targeting Oliver specifically because he represented what Travis called "the degradation of traditional hockey culture."

"'Female coaches and diversity hires are destroying the sport,'" Jack read aloud, his voice getting quieter with each word. "'We need to restore proper leadership before it's too late.'"

"There's more," Heather said gently. "Financial transactions, technical instructions from Kai, even discussions about future attacks they were planning."

Jack returned to his desk, sinking into his chair like he'd aged ten years in ten minutes. "Travis. God damn it, Travis." He looked up at them. "You're absolutely certain? There's no possibility of error?"

"None," Heather said. "I've triple-checked everything. Oliver verified it independently. The evidence is incontrovertible."

Jack pulled out his phone. "Security to the executive floor immediately. And check the parking garage for Travis Dane's vehicle."

They waited in tense silence. Five minutes passed, then ten. Finally, Jack's phone rang.

"His car just pulled in," Jack said after hanging up. "He's on his way up."

"How do you want to handle this?" Oliver asked.

"I want to hear him deny it. I want to look him in the eye while he tries to explain this away." Jack's voice carried controlled fury. "You two stay. I want witnesses to whatever he says."

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Travis appeared in the doorway, looking perfectly put together in his usual navy suit, tablet tucked under his arm.

"Morning, Jack. I have those reports you—" He stopped, noticing Heather and Oliver. His expression flickered, just for a moment. "I didn't realize you had an early meeting."

"Sit down, Travis."

Something in Jack's tone must have warned him. Travis moved cautiously to a chair, his professional mask firmly in place. "Is there a problem?"

Jack turned Heather's laptop toward him. "Explain this."

Travis leaned forward, studying the access logs. "I'm not sure what you're asking me to explain. These are standard administrative access records."

"These are records of you accessing files that were leaked to the media within hours."

"Coincidence. Hundreds of people have access to—"

"These files," Heather interrupted, pulling up the honeypot evidence, "never existed except as tracking markers. You're the only person who accessed them. They appeared verbatim in yesterday's blog posts."

Travis went very still. The mask cracked, showing something desperate underneath. "This is a misunderstanding. There's an explanation."

"The explanation," Jack said coldly, "is that you've been working with Kai Moreno to destroy this organization from the inside. We have your communications, Travis. We have everything."

For a moment, Travis said nothing. Then his expression hardened into something ugly and defiant.

"You want to know why?" His voice dripped contempt. "Look what you've done to this team. A female coach. Players involved in security decisions. Diversity initiatives that prioritize politics over performance. You're destroying everything that has made this sport great."

"So you decided to destroy it first?"

"I decided to save it from your social experiments." Travis stood, his carefully maintained composure finally shattering. "Men built hockey. Men should run hockey. That woman has no business behind an NHL bench, and you know it."

"Get out." Jack's voice was barely above a whisper.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it? When your little experiment fails—"

"Security is already here," Jack cut him off. "You're terminated, effective immediately. You'll be escorted from the building. Any attempt to access our systems or contact our employees will be met with criminal charges."

Two security guards appeared in the doorway. Travis looked at them, then back at Jack, his expression cycling through denial and rage before settling on bitter resignation.

"You're making a mistake," he said. "When this all falls apart, remember that I tried to stop it."

As security led him away, the adrenaline that had been sustaining her started to fade. They'd done it. They'd exposed Travis, protected the team, saved Coach Vicky from further attacks.

Jack slumped in his chair once Travis was gone. "How did I not see this? Two years he's worked for me. Two years of lying to my face every single day."

"He believed what he was doing was right," Oliver said. "People like that are the best liars because they don't think they're lying."

"That might be the most disturbing part." Jack rubbed his face, looking exhausted despite the early hour. "I need to call the league office. The FBI. The team lawyers. Christ, I need to tell the team."

"Coach Vicky deserves to know first," Heather said. "She's been his primary target all along."

"You're right." Jack stood, moving toward his door. "What about you two? You worked together on this despite HR's explicit instructions to stay apart."

Heather met his gaze directly. "We did what was necessary to protect this organization. If that's a problem—"

"It's not," Jack interrupted. "Ivy Hodges has been overstepping for months. Maybe it's time for some changes in HR as well." He paused at the door. "Thank you both. You saved this team from someone who would have destroyed everything we're building."

As they left Jack's office, Oliver's hand brushed against hers in a brief touch of connection and support.

"Think it's really over?" he asked as they waited for the elevator.

"This part is." She looked up at him, seeing her own exhaustion reflected in his face. "Travis is done. Kai's in custody. The team is safe."

The elevator doors opened, and as they descended, Heather thought about everything that would come next, statements to the media, conversations with the team, the slow process of rebuilding trust. But standing beside Oliver, their fingers intertwined despite all the reasons they shouldn't be together, she felt something she hadn't experienced in weeks.

Peace.