Free Defensive Zone (The Dartmouth Cobras #2) by Bianca Sommerland Page B

Silver."
Asher patted her shoulder and moved away from the desk. "Good
luck."
    Silver glared at Asher's back as he walked
out, then jumped when Dean slammed his hands on her desk.
    "Please explain something, because I'd really
like to understand." He watched her lips move soundlessly,
continuing when she nodded. "What possessed you to make a 2.5
million deal without consulting me? When we spoke on the phone
months ago, you admitted that you knew nothing about hockey.
Have you suddenly become an expert?"
    "Scott is a good player." She sat back in her
chair and folded her arms over her chest. "He'll be an asset to the
team."
    "According to who? Do you have any clue what
the team needs? Are you aware of the fact that we just brought up
three rookies that can play his position?" He groaned at her blank
stare. "Do you even know what position he plays?"
    She jutted her chin up. "He's a sniper."
    Dean snorted. "And what does that mean?"
    "He can get the puck in the net." Her fingers
dug into her arms. "You don't have to be a genius to know that's a
good thing."
    "Maybe not, but we have half a dozen players
who can do that as well, if not better, than he can. We are in
desperate need of defensemen." He stepped back and lowered wearily
into the seat in front of the desk. "You've screwed up the
available cap, Silver. I've spent months reviewing prospects and
now I'll have to trash all my plans and start over."
    "If it's just about the money, I have an easy
solution." She leaned forward and flipped open a file on her desk.
"Sloan Callahan is making 5 million a year. Get rid of him."
    Dean's eyes narrowed. "Get rid of him? Are
you serious?"
    "Why not?" She slid the folder toward him.
"Think about it. Me and Asher went over his stats. He's still worth
something, but he's not half as good as he used to be."
    "He's recovering from an injury. He hasn't
been back long enough to know whether his performance will
improve."
    "So what?"
    Deep, deep breaths. The image of hauling her
over the desk and baring her ass for another good spanking flashed
behind his closed lids, but he'd asked for professional. As
ill-suited for the job the girl was, she was still the owner. "So
he's an asset to the team. I'd considered trading him when it
seemed like his ego was causing a rift between the coach and the
players, but the fact is he's a good leader. And an asset to the
team."
    "But there are other 'good leaders'." Her
forehead creased as she bent over the desk, running her finger down
a long sheet that contained the team's stats. "Dominik Mason had
almost as many goals as he did last season. And he's a defenseman.
Why not just make him Captain?"
    "Have you checked his penalty minutes? He's
got a temper and makes a damn fine enforcer, but unless we want the
whole team to turn into a bunch of thugs, a leadership role is out
of the question." Dean rolled his shoulders and gave her a tight
smile. "Admit it. You want to get rid of Callahan because you don't
like him."
    "Why should I? He's an asshole." Her bottom
lip stuck out. "Shouldn't I like my players?"
    "You should want your players to win and
leave your personal opinion of them aside." He rolled his eyes.
"And what you just said sounds pretty silly considering you've
contracted Scott Demyan."
    "What's wrong with Scott?"
    It irked him that she used his name so
casually, but he pressed on. "Demyan recently claimed the spot of
the most hated player in the league. He's a PR nightmare. His
exploits constantly make headlines. He's been charged for
solicitation five times since he went pro."
    "And?"
    "And he won't fit with the team. Everyone on
our roster wants to prove themselves. To live up to fan
expectations." Tension settled in the center of his brow at her
stubborn look and he did his best to rub it away. "This team is
floundering. It took years to convince the league we could support
a franchise in the Maritimes. If we don't get attendance up, the
team will be shipped to somewhere like Vegas. This wasn't a