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 and bullshit behavior of the rest of the team, he was also the only one who actually got under my skin.

Because for some reason, I let him work 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 like goalie was synonymous with defender off 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 contacts with 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 man was enormous. No wonder they picked him to sub in for Solace while he was off injured.

Perhaps he was more like solace than I thought.

I held the gaze of the man who would be lucky if he would survive tonight to be in the office tomorrow at this rate.

“You’re early,” I accused him.

Both eyebrows raised over dark skin. A shadow crossed his gaze as he watched me. “And you’re surprised. Why are you surprised, Miss Cora Brooks?” My name rolled from his tongue like honeyed tea.

I hated the way he said it. Like he’d taken possession of me, somehow.

“Let me make this clear. Once,” I snapped. More blood filled my mouth. I swallowed the unwelcome tang back. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you, and then you come running, especially after the way the team has behaved today, thanks to your… Behavior this morning,” I held his imposing gaze despite feeling as though I was less than half his height and held my ground. “You’ll tell me everything I need to know. Is that–”

“Absolutely,” he said softly.

Respectfully.

I blinked.

What just happened?

“Fine. I’ll call you in ten minutes,” I huff.

Valentine inclined his head and ducked out of the doorway. Despite his bulk and height that must be near seven feet—exaggeration, six and a half, he just looked huge to tiny duck butt me. For the life of me I couldn’t recall his exact stats that earlier this morning I could have rattled off like a well-trained parrot—his footfalls as he disappeared along the hallway were near silent.

Like a hunter.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides. Damn that man and his ability to influence both my own reactions and the team for the short period of time he had been around. My teeth weren’t the only things that clacked as I turned back to my paperwork and continued shredding the top page into confetti.

Fuck Valentine and his mind games. Fuck him and his manners.

Fuck this club and fuck this day.

All I wanted was to go home, bury my head in a pillow and scream into the void like a toddler. But I couldn’t do that, because I was an adult—some of the time—and I had a job to do.

I inhaled water and read through my scanned notes, attempting to formulate a plan from the information I’d gathered for the rest of the day. My phone rang on my desk.

“Yes?”

I’d never made a habit of answering with my name. If someone didn’t know who they were calling, they shouldn’t be calling.

“Cora! How’s your morning going!” A chipper, thin voice bitch slapped me from the other end.

I bit back a groan. “Uh, just dandy, Peatie. Whatcha got for me this morning?”

“Well, after your Chimeras ate up the landscape last night, there’s not a lot more going on, but rumor has it…”

I closed my eyes and zoned out.

Rumor has it was Peatie’s favorite line. Over a year ago, Peatie had pulled my number from the Chimera’s business directory and decided he, as a mini media PR mogul, would ‘assist’ me by providing daily updates. Usually, his information was actually helpful. I stayed off social media unless I needed it, and he was fairly reliable with his sources of comings and goings in the sports world, major shifts, scandals, etc., etc., etc. Even if we weren’t friends, I did appreciate the work he put in.

I nodded a lot, put in a few well placed ‘yeps’ and hung up without wasting too much time. Twenty minutes later, my mind was as blank as it had been before Valentine appeared in the office doorway. I glanced at my phone and made a call that I hated. Asking for help had never been my strong point, but right now I didn’t see your way around it.

I felt pitiful, begging for validation.

I read over the text messages once more and straightened. Time to face the music. I’d made him wait long enough.

“Valentine,” I called in a clear voice.

Dammit, I should’ve gone to the kitchen and made another stale coffee. Or tea. Or matcha, even. Anything that contained caffeine would’ve been worth it. I poked my head out of the office and nearly ran straight into a Chimera jersey-wearing chest. Had he been waiting right outside the doorway? It was a damn good thing I didn’t recite my notes out loud, selling state secrets to the nearest bidder for free. I found myself nose-to-recyclable-takeaway-cup he presented me with.

“What’s this?”

“I wasn’t sure if you ate today. We can be a handful.”

I blinked at the group pronoun usage. Not I, but we. My head canted one side as I repeated his phrase and threw his words back at him, reversing their meaning. “Have you eaten today?” I ushered him into the office, watching carefully as he placed the tall takeaway cup onto my desk alongside a brown paper bag. “Should I be checking for a bomb?”

Valentine was careful with his motions and I cursed myself for my positioning in not being able to see his face when he responded. “Yes. No.”

I closed my mouth, closed the door, and waited for more.

My captive Chimera stood with his back to me. Perhaps our waiting game was a two sided coin. Unable to stand still and yet craving to see his expression, I circled around him, giving the huge man as wide a berth as Coach’s small office allowed.

I found it interesting that Coach could’ve asked for a much larger office in this building, but didn’t. My own office in the adjacent building was double the size but we had decided that the interviews needed to be here today. I made a mental note to ask if he could be moved later for more space since he well and truly earned it putting up with the players like the one tormenting me now.

“No?”

“Coffee. Lunch. It’s there for you.”

I nodded. Valentine still didn’t move as I finished my circle. “And have you?”

When he didn’t answer, I looked up and discovered the office was so much smaller than I expected. Because Heath was right fucking there. I slid the food and coffee across the desk, sat my ass down, and scooted Coach’s thread bare chair that was most definitely not leather several feet back to garner myself breathing room.

“Why does Coach have his office here? The smallest office here,” I murmured, then cursed myself for bothering. That was a question for either Hux or Solace who had been around the team for years, rather than a man who joined the Chimeras full ranks weeks ago and wouldn’t be here by week’s end.

Heath Valentine stared at me with unreadable black eyes. That same shadow as before flickered across his unfathomable gaze before it disappeared as fast as it came on. Unblinking, unyielding. This man was as hard as fuck and the only way I would get in would be if he would let me.

Don’t threaten the team.

Ward Bishop’s advice was solid. As coach, he held responsibility over the team, but unfortunately, the rest of the Chimeras hadn’t left me much of an option. Everything rode on what Valentine said to me in the next twenty minutes.

“He wants to be close to the ice. To the team. Here for what we need.” Valentine returned my study, though his stance remained relaxed.

I raised both eyebrows ,mimicking his behavior from before. “Are you also a mind reader?”

The faint smile from before lifted Valentine’s plush arched lips. “I asked him the same question on my first day.”

“Why?”

His smile remained.” Because I expected all executives—which Coach definitely isn’t—to work in a gold gilt office. To a poor kid from a shit neighborhood this place looks like a palace. But—” He watched me carefully, ” —you know that.”

I did know that.

“Did you say anything else?” I forestalled his next question. Valentine never blinked at my interruption. I offered an olive branch. “I don’t want anyone off the team. It’s my job to be a barrier here too.” Even if I don’t wear a jersey.

“He told me to take care of the team in Solace’s absence.”

“Is that why you took the traumatized girl to your car?”

“Yes.” The images of Valentine were burned into my mind, but I glanced down at the black and white photo anyway, just to check. See if I was wrong, but I knew I wasn’t. Even grainy the image was clear, but with height, his shoulders were recognizable beneath a taut black shirt as he held a leather jacket across her tiny frame.

“Do you know who did this?” I pushed the tabloid on top of the pile across the desk to him.

“Yes.”

Alright. It was a one word answer, but we were getting somewhere. Because that yes was more than anyone else had given me all day.

I blew out a shallow breath. My heart began to pound. If this was my crux point, I had no idea how to approach it. Maybe Valentine was right. I was exhausted, after all. A ten minute nap would relife my batteries. My vision blurred. I shook my head, attempting to focus.

Valentine still watched me carefully, his breath slowing. “You should eat something.”

My hands drifted towards the brown paper bag without my permission. I snatched them back. “Let’s finish this first.”

Wait, did I just give him a concession? Did I actually just agree to do what he said? This man was bad for me. He needed to get out of the office as soon as he could. But first I needed to finish this.

“Will you tell me who?” Shit. That was a close ended question. I’m better than this.

“No.” His enigmatic smile was back again.

Damnit. I earned that. I offered him a faint smile of my own. That one was on me.

“Fair enough.” I gestured to the seat opposite my borrowed desk, unsurprised when he didn’t move or acknowledge me in any way.

No one had used that seat all day.

It was time for a different approach. “Did you get your jacket back?”

I knew he didn’t. It was hanging in the cupboard Coach’s tiny bathroom off the side of the office.

At least he didn’t use the communal one.

Though the state of his desk chair did match the size of his office en suite. I knew what I was getting Coach for Christmas.

That was, assuming we all still had jobs next week.

“Not yet,” Valentine said softly, rolling his shoulders as though he missed the black leather that was splashed all over the front of every tabloid I picked up this morning.

I nodded. “Tell me about last night.” I didn’t make it a question. That one was open and he could take it as he liked. I needed to get his gauge fast.

My hands strayed towards the take away coffee. I picked it up without much thought, my palms sinking into its heat before my brain cussed me out for accepting his offering so freely.

“You need something, Cora, or you’ll end up with a headache.”

I ignored the pain already blooming behind my eyes for exactly that reason.

“Are you open to a role as my conscience? Last night,” I reminded him as I cradled the coffee and took a sip.

Pure black coffee, no sugar, no cream. The syrupy liquid slipped down my throat. My eyes shuttered and I swore I could count the shots in that steaming cup.

Hot enough to burn, but not scald. Only one place made coffee that perfect. Pity that I never made it halfway across town on my lunch break or before work to get there.

My eyes snapped open as the implications hit me. “That coffee shop is twenty minutes away. Did you drive out to get this?” Indignation burned the back of my throat, turning sweet syrup to bitter dregs.

His enigmatic smile returned. “I can jog.”

That. Boy.

Puck me over, these chimeras were going to kill me.

I clutched my coffee to my chest. That drink was mine and I refused to give it up, even if it meant handing over concessions to a Chimera I didn’t trust this early in.

“Did you ask someone?” My brain whirred, trying to work out who spilled the literal beans on my preferences.

Valentine watched me. “Her name is Corinne Weathers. I can provide her address. She was safe when I dropped her off at four a.m. No one on the team touched her, and none of them deserve to lose their jobs.” His mouth shut and he tipped his head to one side. “That’s all that you need to know, Cora. Eat. The headache will go away.”

I stared at him. The cup rose in my hands and I took a deep sip, the action mesmerizing to both of us as his almost black eyes deepened impossibly.

“I’m glad you enjoy the coffee.” And then Heath Cupid Valentine turned around and walked out of my temporary office like he had just been dismissed.

Only we weren’t anywhere near done.

I clutched my coffee and tried not to pick at the brown paper bag as his perfectly formed tush left the office. Gray sweats should be illegal. I didn’t have to look to know that the bag he had left me contained a cream cheese and lox toasted bagel.

My favorite.