Page 3 of Puck my Prey
CORA
Icrossed another name off my list, swallowing a groan along with a cold mouthful of black tea. The coffee in the player’s lounge didn’t bear looking at. A few coffee bags one of the girls seemed to favor smelled stale. She presented me with a cup paired with a huge smile and a slice of heavily laden avocado toast that I nearly wore when she tripped toward me. I declined, unsure if she intended the move as a prank, or was just inherently clumsy.
Not that I blamed her. She seemed sweet enough, after all. People were the main reason I avoided the main club office. There was sufficient testosterone in the Jericho Chimera’s home to fuel several Friday Night Fights, but that wasn’t why I was groaning.
The next name on my interview list for today was Heath ‘Cupid’ Valentine.
No bonus points for guessing how he earned his nickname.
But the reason I groaned was because of all the players I’d seen today, not only was Heath Valentine the last on my list, meaning I was exhausted after dealing with the closed ranks andbullshit behavior of the rest of the team, he was also the only one who actually got under my skin.
Because for some reason, Ilet himwork his way under my skin with that little stunt he pulled earlier on the ice this morning. I’d felt tiny. And he’d been indifferent, almost. That pissed me off. More than his team mate, Shannon, speaking out of turn, which was the sort of behavior I’d expected from a group of drunken loud mouths who had half assaulted a woman the night before, though not one of them had confirmed the action yet.
And neither had she.
Hence the closing of ranks.
And the only evidence the world had of any of it was of Heath Valentine with his jacket held over the woman’s head to conceal her face while he walked her to his car the night before trying to hide her torn dress and the bite marks on her ruined skin. That image was splashed across the face of the world and I could take that back no matter what I did. The action still didn’t disguise the bruises and bite marks evident all over her body that the media shitstorm ate up declaring the Chimeras displaying their true nature, each taking on a different beastly form as they ripped the poor soul apart.
Thankfully, she hadn’t pressed charges—yet—and the team weren't talking. Both of that meant exactly zero police engagement, but media being media meant, police charges or no, I had a helluva job this morning in damage control. The least of which was finding out what the fuck actually happened.
Maybe I should have started with him in the first place.
And then Heath Valentine ignored me during morning chit chat time, setting the standard for the rest of his team. Hux didn’t step in, not that I expected the Chimeras captain to do anything, though the show of support would have been decent, but Coach backed me. I appreciated that, being the outsider.Since all that happened first thing this morning back on the ice where I knew I should never have tried to address the team en masse in the first damn place, the rest of my day went to shit and back fast as fuck. No amount of premium grade, if stale, caffeine from their coffeemaker could fix that.
Maybe I should have taken up the offer of avocado toast after all.
The club called me in when they needed a mess fixed that they couldn't cleanup for themselves. The last time I entered this office outside of professional functions and PR sessions was when two players were fired over the sort of drugs scandal that stuck. That was during the reign of the captain before Hux. The Chimeras had been reasonably clean ever since.
But then, Hux hadn't been there last night, and neither was his best friend, Solace.
And look what happened with their stand-in protector.
It wasn't likegoaliewas synonymous withdefenderoff the ice for the Jericho Chimeras, but Solace damn well made sure for the past few years that the team stayed in line whenever they weren’t playing a game. His being out hurt the team in more ways than one, I knew, and they were some pretty big skates to fill.
Each of the players had their own personality both on and off the ice and some of those lined up with their positions. Others were a little bit…
Extra.
I wasn't sure about Heath Valentine just yet. No one was. New blood always changed the team dynamic. Last night’s epic failure spoke to just that.
I shuffled papers across my borrowed desk, seething at the fact that I hadn't even made it to addressing my growing list of emails from both the board of directors and media contactswith whom I had currently maintained radio silence. But that wouldn't last forever.
The moment any of the players stepped out into the parking lot outside the club, they were fair game for the media shit storm that circled like a threatening tornado. Whether the girl was a willing participant in last night’s orgy, the boys decided they were aiming for a polyamorous relationship, or I needed to reset my opinion of the players who had earned my respect over the years, I honestly had no idea how I was going to salvage the club’s reputation of the cluster fuck of epic proportions without jeopardizing the team’s reputation and jobs.
Hux, Coach… sure, I could protect them—probably. But at this point, and without anybody else talking to me, I doubted even that. It wasn’t like I had any other choice. I'd given the boys a five day deadline that was fast becoming four. The reality was that if I didn't have the information that I needed by the end of the day, my timeline was likely cut short to tomorrow. Heads would roll fast. Media response was required and I needed to speak to the female question.
Because they sure as fuck couldn't.
The papers that I shuffled in my hands crumpled and tore.
“Fuck, fuck,fuck." I kicked Coach’s desk and stubbed my toe. "Fuck." I added the extra for emphasis.
"It never did anything to you," a deep voice berated me gently.
My teeth clicked against each other as pain and iron bloomed across the back of my tongue. "Fuck." That came out muffled and slightly high-pitched. "Ow." I nursed my bitten tongue.
I glared balefully at where Heath Valentine lounged against Coach’s door frame. His bulk, that should be in no way different to any of the other players but way anyway in sheer presence, filled it. But Valentine didn't just fill the doorway. He obliterated the space that any regular person would have taken up. The manwas enormous. No wonder they picked him to sub in for Solace while he was off injured.
