Chapter 16
Alex answered the questions from the group of post-game reporters to the best of his ability. He’d already covered what it was like being back on the ice—exhilarating. He’d covered the fact that the defensive pairs had been solid, that the forecheck was strong, and he’d even sung the praises of the opponents, who were, in his mind, a good, strong team. Everyone in the NHL had a healthy respect for other teams, even while secretly wanting to knock them all out of the race for the Stanley Cup.
The last question was a new one, though.
“You’re finally getting the team looking good,” said a tall, skinny reporter with acne, and he leaned in close, thrusting his recording device under Alex’s nose. Alex was just about to answer when the guy continued. “What was your reaction to the photos of Cody James on Deadspin?”
That wasn’t the kind of question he’d expected to be asked; these were sports reporters who interrogated players on health and fitness, gameplay, character in the room, wins, losses, that sort of thing. They didn’t ask questions out of nowhere about things Alex hadn’t prepped for or even thought about. He looked past the reporters to Helen White, the team’s media representative, who was hovering at the back, making a cut motion across her throat.
Jeez. What had Alex missed? What photos?
“I haven’t seen them,” Alex answered.
Then he wrapped up, with a nod to Helen, and slipped through the groups of reporters interviewing Vaz as the nearly new guy and Ryan for his pass in the closing seconds of play. He stalked past the cubicles, noticing that Cody’s and Connor’s were both empty of the men.
Where the fuck are they?
Following instinct, he walked out into the empty hallway and down to where he’d once found Loki drinking beer and bemoaning his knee issue. Every team had a place that was considered private, where a skater could have a meltdown without everyone seeing. For the Dragons, it was the skate room.
He shoved open the door and shut it behind him, startling the twins from where they had their heads together, both of them spinning on their toes to face him. Connor looked guilty, and Cody like his whole world was ending.
“What?” Alex snapped. “I just got asked about photos of Cody on Deadspin. I assume it is Cody and not you, Connor?”
Connor shook his head.
“Okay, then what will I see Cody doing if I look at the site?”
Connor answered when Cody shook his head and slumped on the desk. “It’s not good, Simba.”
“What is it? Drugs? Drink?”
“That’s what they’re saying,” Connor snapped. “But it’s not true. Tell him, Cody.”
“It used to be true,” Cody said brokenly, and looked up at Alex, his startlingly blue eyes wet with emotion. He didn’t cry. Alex considered that Cody had done his crying and wasn’t letting any emotion escape in front of his captain.
“What used to be true?” Alex pressed.
“Cocaine,” Cody answered. He straightened. “I kicked it, Simba, but there are photos, from when I was being drafted.”
Alex turned and deliberately dropped the lock on the door; he didn’t want anyone walking in on this. He glanced at Connor. Cody’s twin looked pale.
“And you, Connor?”
Connor’s expression turned to anger. “What? Just because my idiot fucking twin used, it means I used as well?”
Alex held up a hand. “No, I didn’t mean that.” Then he stopped talking, because, yes, he had meant that. “Okay, we’ll take this upstairs, talk to management, get your agent in, get you signed into a program—”
“I’m clean now, Simba,” Cody snapped. “I haven’t used since I was eighteen.”
“So why are the photos out now?” Alex asked. He was suddenly exhausted. Cody was a solid part of their fourth line, and if he had to miss any games, it would take them out of the race to the playoffs.
And then he realized what he was doing. With Cody looking vulnerable and so damn young in front of him, he’d immediately thought of how this could impact the team. Where the fuck was his heart in all of this? He’d been riding the high of a win, and abruptly he was brought back to earth; that had to be why his compassion had stalled for a moment.
“Ignore I said that,” he amended. Then he stepped into Cody’s space and bro-hugged him. “We’ve got your back, Codes,” he said. For a second Cody clung to him, and then they parted. “Come on, let’s get this taken care of.”
He went to open the lock, but Cody’s soft voice stopped him.
“The photos are there because I refuse to pay any more money for them to stay hidden,” he said.
Alex cursed loudly and turned back to the twins. “Shit, is someone blackmailing you?”
And that was when everything went to hell.
Alex felt like every muscle in his body had been pulled tight and then released an instant later. Some force appeared to pick up his world and throw him to the ground along with plaster and brick and plastic. Next to him, Cody extricated himself from the workings of the skate machine, stumbling to stand, and Connor was on all fours looking dazed, shaking his head, trying to clear his ears. All Alex could hear was a high-pitched whining; Cody was talking right at him, and he couldn’t hear.
“Is everyone okay?” he asked, his voice weirdly internal. Cody nodded, pressing a hand to his wrist and grimacing. Connor nodded as well.
What the fuck was that?
He unlocked the door, but it took a lot of pulling, and he realized the door had buckled inwards.
Was the team okay? Was the arena empty? Where was Jo? Fear lent him strength, and with Cody and Connor pushing the door back out, he finally managed to get it open and walked onto the set of a disaster movie. Walls were gone, dust in the air, and he pulled up his jersey to cover his mouth. Rubble blocked their way past the sticks room, and to the right, back toward the locker rooms, there was a collapsed wall and the sickening sight of charred debris. He turned to face Cody and Connor, lifted his hand to indicate a cell phone at his ear, but hell, not one of them would have their cells on them that close to the end of the game. Cody was cradling his wrist to his chest, which didn’t look good, and Connor was by the collapsed walls, looking at a possible way out. The wall shifted, dust and rubble falling, and Alex yanked Connor back.
There was no way out to the locker room, and fuck, was there anyone beyond the fallen wall?
“Hey!” Alex shouted, and the twins joined in. “We’re in here!” Nobody called back as they shouted, or at least if they did, he couldn’t hear over the damn whining in his ears. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been since the explosion or collapse or whatever it was. Had he lost consciousness at all? He tapped his wrist and looked at Connor, who shrugged and held up both hands, meaning ten.
That wasn’t that long. Ten minutes wasn’t enough time for rescuers to get here.
He closed his eyes, imagined the schematics for the place. As the first one signed to the new Dragons’ franchise, he’d also been early enough to be part of the ceremony putting the plans up on the wall of the central admin office. There had been champagne and food, and so much enthusiasm. But it was the plans he had to imagine. The corridor curved left to medical, right to the locker rooms. Past the rubble that at least had space above it was the trainers’ office, and team equipment, X-ray, and then finally the corridor passed two areas for entertainment, then was the visitors’ locker room. If they could make it there, they could get to the ice through their exit.
“We have to go over,” Alex said, or shouted, because his hearing was still fucked. He scrambled over loose chunks of concrete and exposed metal bars. “Give me a leg up,” he asked Connor. Cody moved to help as well, but he wasn’t steady on his feet, his wrist looking like it was broken, swollen, and his face pale.
Finally, with a push from Connor, Alex climbed the enormous obstacles and realized that there was enough space over for them to wriggle through. Thank god Drago wasn’t with them; there would be no way for the huge goalie to get through. Beyond, the space was gloomy. The dim lighting on that side was gone, and he could see nothing further than the rubble, but he could smell smoke, and that didn’t bode well. He was convinced the arena had every single prevention for fire, but he couldn’t fucking see any of it.
He scrambled back down. “We can get over there,” he shouted. “Make it to the visitors’ locker room, get out on the ice.”
At Connor’s side, Cody slumped a little, falling heavily against his brother. Connor held on, but in slow motion, Cody seemed to crumple quietly to the ground. Connor dropped to his knees, cradling Cody’s head.
“Cody!” he was saying, over and over. Alex felt for a pulse. It was steady and strong.
“Maybe he hit his head,” Alex said. “Concussion. Could you see him when it happened?”
“I fell into him,” Connor said.
They both saw the blood at the same time, darkening Cody’s pants and spreading on the ground. Alex scrambled to untie his pants, and revealed a gash in his thigh. No longer than four inches, it wasn’t gushing blood, but there was enough seepage for Alex to imagine the worst. Thinking on his feet, he ripped the tape off his socks and wrapped it around Cody’s leg above the wound. He couldn’t look Connor in the eye, because what the fuck did he know about stopping bleeding? Connor pressed material against the wound, and at least it wasn’t darkening too much with blood.
“Go for help,” Connor said. His voice was lower, and Alex realized the ringing in his ears was clearing. “Get over there and get some help.” There was an edge to Connor’s voice, fear and panic in every syllable.
Alex looked at Connor, then, into blue eyes the same as Cody’s.
“I’ll be as quick as I can,” he reassured him.
Then, without a backward glance, he went over the blocks of rubble, wriggling through the small hole and dropping down as best he could on the other side. Feeling his way in the dark, he cautiously walked away from the blockage, using his hands at knee level to ascertain what metal and stone were in his way. There was light ahead, but it was fire in the medical admin office. The door was shut, the fire contained, but behind that room was the medical area; was that on fire as well? He walked into something hard and cursed, thankful for the uniform that protected some of him, and pulled the jersey up higher over his face, his eyes stinging.
Equipment room. Team equipment room. Hospitality. Visiting team street lockers.
He was close, and he finally pushed through the closed door to the visitors’ locker room, devoid of the other team and mercifully not damaged in any way. Hopefully the team had got out of the stadium well before the incident. Stumbling and settling his breathing, he made it to the other exit that led out onto the ice. There was more light there—not fire, but the steadiness of low lighting.
The door was locked or jammed up, or hell knew what was stopping it from opening. He looked around for something, anything, to use as a lever. If he couldn’t get out there, he’d have to go back in and work his way around further, but that had been blocked.
For the first time in his life, he felt like he wasn’t in control.
And he was terrified of letting Cody and Connor down, and maybe never seeing Jo again.