Coast to Coast by R J Scott & V L Locey

Author:R J Scott & V L Locey [Scott, R J & Locey, V L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785641770
Publisher: Love Lane Books Ltd
Published: 2019-09-28T18:30:00+00:00

Eleven

Mark

Our first match of the season, an afternoon game, was spectacularly bad.

Letting in three goals in the first period was one thing, but I also had Robert and Clark Lake there, talking Chrysler cars and watching the game with me. I was mortified because how the hell could I sell a winning team to a potential sponsor when said team was losing. I was lost for words, and I could normally talk my way out of most things. Not that Jason was doing any better. The team’s new interim general manager was doing a good job of being completely quiet.

“I like that youngster in the net,” Robert shared with his brother. “Penn, the one with that cocaine thing.”

I groaned internally. The prospects were not good that the two men were linking Colorado with cocaine and not connecting him to being a possible contract for a goalie.

“It’s just a tryout,” I defended as much as I could without coming out and saying that the coach was messed up and didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

Clark shot me a look, “Seriously? You need to lock that up now. Couple more games and you’ll have a powerhouse down there. Add in Madsen and that Alejandro guy, and we’re looking at a strong restart to the season.” The brothers exchanged looks. “We’d like to see Aarni Lankinen gone, though. He’s a liability.”

I gave them my patented nod of complete understanding and wished I could wave a magic wand to make that happen. The goal horn sounded, and I stared out at the ice, expecting the scoreboard to show that Vancouver was another goal up.

They weren’t. I realized that, even as Robert, Clark, and the entire damn arena rose to their feet and punched the air in unison.

The crowd was chanting, Ry-ker, Ry-ker, and I stood as they replayed the goal. Everything had started right down with Colorado. He’d corralled the puck on a saved shot, passed it to a defenseman who’d shuttled it to another who’d somehow skated through three Vancouver guys, passed to Alejandro, who’d done this impressive stop on the ice, skating back, and blindly passing to Ryker, who’d, and God knows how he did it, managed to swing around the Vancouver goalie and shoot the puck so hard I swore that it left a heat trail. We’d scored.

The crowd was losing their cool below us, dancing and hugging, and I swore, for a moment, the tension in me loosened, and it didn’t stop there.

Colorado blocked the next three shots, as easily as if someone was tossing him a tennis ball. Confident and poised, he guarded the net like a dragon with a hoard, and Ryker’s line shone like the sun, and when the buzzer sounded at the end of the period, Vancouver hadn’t scored again.

By the end of period two, we’d scored twice more, and starting the third we were tied at three goals each. This wasn’t how I’d seen this game going. I didn’t know hockey, but even

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