Chapter 36
She’d been wrong.
The media attention after the attack drove her crazy, and it made her thankful she was in Christchurch rather than Middlemarch. Reporters followed her, popping from behind trees and cars, asking intrusive questions, and making her life miserable. Something she could’ve done without on finals day.
“Out of the way,” Henry growled, using his elbows when a reporter wearing an arm sling shoved a microphone in Maia’s face and fired questions like a machine gun.
“Move back,” Gerard said in a hard voice, his usual smile and easygoing nature absent while in security mode.
Maia spied their team changing room door with relief, eager to get out of the spotlight and relax.
Her strides lengthened. She needed her best game today.
Her very best effort. Although she had nothing to prove, pride compelled her to want a win today.
Did it make her petty if she wanted to rub the noses of the Dunedin team’s management group in the dust? Probably.
“You okay?” Henry jerked her away from the barrage of nosy press questions.
“I’d hoped the reporters would find another story to amuse them,” Maia said.
“Rugby is the national game.” Gerard kept his voice low. “Two women slugging it out makes for salacious reading.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Maia snapped.
Gerard’s impish wink didn’t mollify her.
“Stop teasing my girl,” Henry said.
They reached the dressing room door.
“We’ll wait outside until the team is ready to leave,” Henry said.
“Thanks.” She was ready to take ten minutes to chill and run over the game plan.
Maia pushed inside to excited chatter, the scent of liniment, and women braiding their hair. She sucked in a ragged breath and grasped for calm.
“Maia, I’ll braid your hair for you,” Jill, their captain, offered.
It was a new team ritual, started after they’d made it to the quarter-finals. They’d kept winning, so the braiding continued.
Maia nodded, her butterflies massing. Nerves were invaluable, but she veered on the edge of panic because not one of the team’s set plays popped into her head when she focused on their game plan.
It didn’t help that the Black Fern selectors were revealing their team selection tonight.
After the debacle with Amanda, they’d postponed their announcement.
They didn’t want the franchise dragged into the public mess Amanda had caused.
Several of her team had attended the training camp with Maia, so the tension was palpable.
Everyone wanted to play the game of their lives.
“I see that sexy man of yours is hovering outside,” another of her team said.
Maia suppressed her instinctive wince. That was another thing that bothered her.
Henry had gone into super protective mode and refused to let her go anywhere alone.
Despite her attempts to talk to him, he insisted his responsibility was to keep her safe.
She loved him. She did, but he was smothering her, and if he didn’t ease up soon, she’d explode.
Maia said none of this, however. “He worries, and the press isn’t helping. They won’t leave me alone.”
“Take your hands off me,” a woman snapped.
“Ah, yes. The reporter that got shot,” Jill said, cocking her head to better listen.
“Ma’am, this is the team dressing room and not available to outsiders,” Gerard said in a placating voice from the other side of the door.
“Who said?” The reporter sounded much closer.
“The team manager,” another voice said. “Please escort her to the exit.”
“My pleasure,” Gerard said.
“You can’t do this,” the reporter protested.
“We can,” the manager said. “It’s an important game today, and you’re interrupting my players’ preparation.”
Gerard must’ve propelled the reporter away because her protests grew fainter.
The door opened, and Penny, their assistant coach, poked her head inside the dressing room. “Everyone decent? James wants a word before you head out to warm up.”
Jill tied Maia’s braid and glanced around. “All safe.”
And it was true. They were ready to run onto the field.
James, Penny, and their manager entered the dressing room, and silence fell.
“Everyone knows the game plan. You’ve worked hard and deserve your place in the final.
I want you to go out there, do your best, and enjoy the moment.
You’ve already gone further in the competition than we have before, but I think you can shock this Auckland team.
Remember that. They might have a home-team advantage, but we have fans, too,” James said.
“We know you’ll each give one hundred and ten percent. You always do,” their manager said. “But I want you to know that whatever the result, we are proud of your accomplishments. We couldn’t have asked for more of you.”
“Except you want us to win this game,” someone quipped.
“Yeah, no pressure, Coach,” another player said.
Laughter filled the dressing room, easing the tension.
James grinned. “We’re doing this for Maia and the other prospective Black Ferns. We want them to show well for the selectors.”
“Yeah,” their winger yelled, pumping her fist.
“Right,” their manager said. “Squeeze together, and we’ll take a quick photo to post on our social media.”
Five minutes later, they jogged down the tunnel into the stadium to the crowd’s roar. Maia ran at the rear with Henry and Gerard beside her. Henry grasped her hand and kissed her hard before she exited the tunnel.
“I love you, Maia, and I’m proud of you,” he said, his eyes glinting golden, which she now knew was his wolf.
“Have a great game, Maia,” Gerard said, giving her a brief hug. “We’ll be watching and cheering.”
Family.
That got Maia straight in the heart because it was something new.
She’d stayed with the team the previous night, but London and Megan called to wish her luck.
She’d spoken to Jacey and Levi, who was beyond excited that he and his team were attending the game.
Emily and Saber had texted her while Isabella, Leo, and Kian were in the stadium crowd.
Isabella had told Maia she expected a personal recommendation of her services since she’d done a fantastic job of whipping Maia into shape.
Yeah, this support gave her all the feels.
“Crush them,” Henry said, and after a last kiss, he released her.
Maia ran onto the pitch, ignoring the flash of cameras and the increased volume from the crowd.
She and her team warmed up at one end of the field, the Auckland team at the other.
Before Maia knew it, the whistle to start the game blew.
She put on her game face and threw herself into the play.
Her first touch of the ball eased her nerves, especially since she caught it and passed safely.
After a tough battle, they were leading by three points at half-time.
James was pleased. Maia could tell, although he wasn’t effusive about it.
“You have them rattled,” he said. “Their coach will urge them to plug the holes in their backline, so this is the plan.”
It was an excellent plan, and Maia’s team followed his instructions when they grabbed the ball in the second half.
They took the Auckland team by surprise, and they were slow to regroup.
Two converted tries later, Maia thought they had a solid grip on the game.
But they kept plugging away, their fitness helping them to keep the pressure on their opposition.
Maia snapped up the ball from a loose pass and galloped toward the try line with minutes left on the clock. She dotted down and, seconds later, found herself crushed in the middle of a team hug.
Their fullback missed the conversion goal, but it didn’t matter. They kept the Auckland team in their territory, not allowing them room to maneuver or get near their scoreline.
The final siren wailed. The game was theirs.
Players hugged Maia before they lined up to shake hands with the opposition team.
The crowd applauded, and Maia noticed her Middlemarch friends cheering loudest of all.
She waved at them before speaking with the Auckland opposition players, trading a few friendly words and shaking hands.
An inner sense made Maia’s attention stray to the crowd. A man jumped the barrier, sprinting in their direction. He held something in his hand. She squinted and quickly backed up.
“Maia,” Henry said with sharp urgency, appearing behind her. He grasped her arm and shoved her behind him while Gerard blocked her when she tried to stand beside Henry.
The man kept sprinting toward them, and the other players noticed.
“Is that a gun?” one asked.
Every player ran in different directions, pushing and shoving. Some shouted in alarm.
Maia peeked between Henry and Gerard and glimpsed security men giving chase.
“He’s got a gun,” Henry said, his muscles tense.
“Any idea who he is?” Gerard asked.
“I don’t recognize him,” Maia said.
“Where are you, bitch? You can’t hide. She’s on remand, and it’s your fault.”
Maia’s stomach sank. “Do you think he’s related to Amanda?”
“That’d be my guess,” Henry said evenly.
Neither he nor Gerard took their eyes off the man.
“Stop hiding!” the man shouted. “Bitch, you’ve ruined my dreams.”
Maia was tired of this. She darted around Henry. “Here,” she snapped.
The man fired his weapon.
“No!” Henry shouted and dived, pushing Maia and covering her with his larger body.
“Oomph,” Maia grunted on hitting the ground. Henry jerked, still acting as her shield, and Maia panicked when liquid soaked into her clothes.
“Henry. Henry!”
He moved, grunting as he lifted off her.
“You’re bleeding.” She glanced frantically for Gerard, but he was helping the security men contain the assailant. The man struggled violently, and it took three to overpower him.
“That bitch had it in for Amanda. She was jealous of my daughter,” the man howled.
“Doesn’t mean you can shoot her,” Gerard snapped.
“Henry.” Maia ignored the shouts, petrified that he’d hurt Henry. He meant everything to her. She tore at his shirt, attempting to locate an injury. “Where are you hurt?”