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his colleagues and staff looked offended on his behalf, and tried very hard to ignore those who appeared to agree with Derek’s assessment.
    Callum moved to stand with Rupert, their shoulders brushing as Callum crossed his arms over his chest. “He knows as much about hockey as you or I. And he knows a hell of a lot more than both of us combined about how to run a business, which is what this is. If you don’t like it, get out of the game. But if you want to keep playing, anywhere , I suggest you shut the fuck up.”
    For the next several seconds, Derek did a perfect imitation of a freshly landed carp. Rupert probably didn’t look much better. He pinched himself to be sure he wasn’t dreaming the whole thing.
    Without another word, Derek spun on his heel and stormed from the room.
    “Well,” Jack said from the conference room door, breaking the heavy silence, “that was unpleasant.”
    “You have a gift for understatement,” Rupert said. He nodded at Callum. “I thank you for your help.”
    “You’re welcome,” Callum said, his voice as gruff as his manners.
    They stared at each other in the ensuing, increasingly awkward silence. Rupert’s phone buzzed in his hand and he looked down automatically to see a text message on his screen.
    Found him. 37 Chiltern, W1, London. Apt 3b. Above the wedding shop.
    “Oh my god,” he breathed, his stomach plunging to the floor. His hands, already unsteady from excess adrenaline, now shook so badly it took him three tries to enter his passcode.
    “What?” Callum demanded. “What’s happened?”
    “I think they found him.”
    Jack was suddenly at his side. “Let’s go in your office. Come on.”
    Rupert let himself be herded through the door. Callum closed it behind them.
    “What going on? Is he okay?”
    “I don’t know,” Rupert cried, still trying to get his hands to cooperate enough to hit the correct icon.
    With a growl, Callum snatched the phone from Rupert’s hands. Callum was a presumptuous bastard, but Rupert couldn’t be bothered to get upset. He gestured at the phone. “Check the text messages.”
    “All I see is an address. Tell me what to write back.”
    “Ask if it’s Oliver. Ask if they have him. Is he okay?”
    Callum manipulated the phone with remarkable dexterity, and Rupert wondered inanely if it was an unintended benefit of goalie training. When the phone buzzed again, Rupert pressed himself to Callum’s side so that he could see the screen.
    Appears to be okay. With young woman. Nanny? Have not approached. Cannot take custody. Only you. Do not want to spook kid or nanny or mother.
    Rupert clutched Callum’s arm, his brain sprinting from one problem to the next. He needed to get to London. He should pack. And buy a plane ticket. Call his solicitors. He needed to make a list of—
    “What does he mean about custody?” Jack asked from Callum’s other side, snapping Rupert out of his spiraling panic.
    “Before my father passed away, he arranged for me to have custody of Oliver, as his mother had never seemed interested in having anything to do with him. But when I arrived in London, she was doting on him, and I foolishly believed she’d changed. I left him with her,” he confessed, ashamed, his voice gone hoarse. “It was only a matter of months before she started to be harder to reach, but eventually I would hear back. Would see Oliver on Skype. Then a few months ago—”
    Callum started typing. We’re on our way.
    Rupert couldn’t seem to hold onto any one thought for long. “We?”
    “Jack, can you look into flights?” Callum asked.
    Jack practically sprinted from the office.
    Callum turned to Rupert. “You shouldn’t go alone. You don’t know what you’re going to be dealing with, and someone might need to be with Oliver while you’re handling the fallout. Not to mention, have you ever travelled with a young child?”
    “I hadn’t really thought…”
    “Is there someone who can help you in London? Or someone else