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Discovery’s half of the field. For a moment he stood shaking his head, watching Discovery’s defenders haplessly chase their opponents.
    “Your boy Killer doesn’t look happy,” Rick announced with unnecessary glee. Alan cursed under his breath to Holly’s left. She crossed as many of her fingers as she could manage and stared intently at the pitch.
    Discovery’s goalie caught the ball and hurled it back down the field, where Kepler took possession and began another run into Ottawa’s half. His opponents were fast, but he was faster, and as he bolted toward the goal line everyone in the corporate box was on their feet.
    “Run, dammit, run,” Alan shouted beside her, and she leaped up along with everyone else.
    “Come on Killer!” Rick pumped his fist in the air. Holly had never been a sports fan, but she was completely swept up in the energy and adrenaline in the room. Kepler’s long, muscular legs were pumping toward the goal, and the Ottawa players thundered down the pitch in hot pursuit.
    He looks so alone down there , she thought with a sudden, piercing sadness. She fisted her hands in front of her chest and squeezed tightly, blood pounding in her ears as she watched the lone blue shirt race down the field.
    “You can do it,” she whispered.
    One of Ottawa’s defenders was catching up with him and moving up to Kepler’s elbow, but he was almost to the goal line, in perfect scoring position. The crowd in the stands was heaving as fans jumped to their feet. The stadium roared with shouted encouragement, everyone in the corporate box was screaming...
    ...and then the defender stuck out his leg, and Kepler went toppling head over heels onto the grass.
    The din of excitement in the box quickly turned to one of outrage. Kepler rolled onto his side with his leg pulled up to his chest, and the Ottawa defender threw his hands in the air in a show of innocence.
    “That was a clear foul,” Rick insisted, and Alan looked over Holly’s head at him for the first time during the match, as though only just realizing he was there.
    “If that’s not a red card, I’ll personally go down there and punch that ref in the face,” Alan said vehemently.
    She just wanted Kepler to get up.
    The referee reached the pair at the same time that Kepler waved away the medic who approached him from the sideline. He dragged himself to his feet, limped up to the Ottawa player and—to Holly’s horror—shoved him hard in the chest. His opponent stuck an angry finger in his face, and Kepler pushed him again before Tyson inserted himself between the two men and forcibly guided his teammate away.
    “This is a nightmare.” Her eyes fell shut in despair as she snapped back into professional mode. Kepler had gone from victim to aggressor in less than a minute.
    “It was a dirty tackle,” Rick commented, and she opened her eyes.
    The ref reached into his pocket and raised a red card, sending the Ottawa player off the field. Alan clapped heartily, declaring his opinion of the defender in colorful terms.
    Then the ref reached into his pocket a second time, faced Kepler and produced a yellow card.
    The reaction of the crowd in the box was replicated on the field when Kepler threw up his hands in furious indignation. The ref shrugged and turned away. Kepler moved to follow him, poised for an argument, but as soon as he took a step his leg seemed to buckle beneath him. He grabbed Tyson’s shoulder for support.
    Her heart was in her throat as the medic jogged back onto the pitch. Had Sven sent Kepler out to play too early? What if his leg wasn’t fully healed yet? How badly was he hurt?
    Beside her, Alan put his head in his hands. “Ten million dollars we paid for him. Ten million.”
    On her other side, Rick had dropped back into his seat and was using his phone to take a photo of the food spread over the table against the wall.
    A quick peer through the window showed Kepler being helped off the field by the medic as one of Discovery’s