CHAPTER FOURTEEN

At the same time Amelia was fighting for her life, the owner of the Pittsburgh Pelicans arrived at Wales Capital and made his way to his board room. Already in the room were Lucas Grimley, his General Manager, and Earl Druce, his head coach. Both stood up when Atticus Wales walked in.

"What could not wait?" he asked his GM as soon as he sat down.

They all sat down, too, and Lucas Grimley got to the point. "We've got a doping problem on our hands, Atti. A major doping problem."

But Atticus frowned. He was unimpressed. "You bring me out this time of night for that? Get rid of him. Who is he?"

"That's the problem," Lucas said.

"What's that supposed to mean? What's the problem? Who's doping? Don't tell me it's my quarterback. Please don't tell me that!"

"It's the team, sir," said the head coach.

Atticus looked at Earl. "What do you mean the team?"

"He means the team," said Lucas. "Every starter has been implicated in a far-reaching doping scandal wrapped up in a neat little bow waiting at our front door."

"Motherfuck!" Atticus was stunned. "Everybody?"

"Everybody, Atticus," said Lucas. "This is bad."

Atticus leaned back. Then he looked angrily at his coach. "How did this happen, Earl? I pay your ass top dollar to handle those damn players."

"I handled it when I thought it was a few goof-offs. I buried it at the time. How was I to know it was every starter on our team?"

"How did we find out?"

"Doc," said Lucas. "He did randoms this morning. Everybody's piss was hot."

"He's certain?"

"Oh yes. I saw to that before I came to you."

"Don't tell me the press has gotten wind of this."

"No way. We can keep it under wraps for now. The players sure as hell aren't going to tell on themselves. Doc won't leak. But to contain a story this big? We're gonna need muscle. We're gonna need outside help."

Atticus shook his head. "I can't believe it. They pull this shit two months before spring training? This season is supposed to be our Super Bowl run. How in hell could every starter on my team be doping at a time like this?"

"It's the culture," said the GM. "Earl's been too lax."

"Fuck you, Lucas!" Earl shot back.

"If he's been too lax, then so have you," Atticus said to Lucas. He hated it when the big guy loved to blame the little guy. Then he exhaled. "Who's their supplier?"

"They won't tell. They all have guaranteed contracts. They aren't admitting to shit. They'll never tell."

"Wanna bet?" asked Atticus. Then he looked at his head coach. "Get out of here, Earl. I'll let you know next moves when I know myself."

"Yes, sir," the head coach said as he stood and continued to stare angrily at Lucas. And then he left the room.

Lucas leaned forward. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we need to get Mick on the phone."

"Sinatra? Atticus, are you sure? Those guys do you a favor you'll owe them for life."

"Not Micky. He's bigger than that."

"Didn't used to be."

"We all were hustlers then. Life's been good to all of us. Call him."

"I don't know if I still have his number."

"Cut the bullcrap, Lucas. You got his number, same as me. We keep his number for nights like this."

Lucas knew that was true too. "But realistically what is he gonna do?"

"Find out who the supplier is and handle him. Because that supplier is the wild card. He's got to be handled. We'll handle our players. And not a living soul, outside of you, me, and Earl will know a damn thing about it."

The GM exhaled. "I'll call him. But give me a minute. I've got to get up the nerve to talk to that bastard."

Atticus stood up. Then hesitated. "Ask how his sister's doing while you're at it."

The GM looked at him. "I thought she was married."

Atticus frowned. "Gotdammit, Lucas, just do it!" he said testily as he walked out of that room.

Lucas shook his head. That asshole still had the hots for Millie. He still wanted her black ass. After all these years.

But that wasn't his problem. He had well over ninety-nine on his plate already, and Amelia Sinatra wasn't one of them. He pulled out his phone.