Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
CORA
Istood outside Corinne Weather’s house, and knocked on her door for the ninth time.
I had a limit; I just hadn’t reached it yet.
Because she was home, and I flat out refused to give up.
My assistant, Liz, who rarely saw work because the control freak in me required—well, control, stood behind me, tapping out notes on her tablet.
“Do you want me to try around the back?”
I shook my head. “Miss Weathers?” I tipped my head to one side when a shadow passed across the frosted glass pane. “Please open the door. I’m not the press.”
The shadow paused. Okay. So she’s as over the media storm as we are. Not that I blamed her, but if she’d just speak to me, maybe we could help each other.
I inhaled, counted to ten of Liz’s taps, and tried again. “I’m a friend of Val— Heath’s,” I caught the slip at the last minute.
“You know Heath?” The door opened a crack, and a mousy looking woman bearing a patchwork of semi-faded discolored bruises and scratches. The bite marks were still visible.
I attempted a smile that didn’t match any other part of me right then and stepped sideways in a shitty attempt to shield Liz—fuck knew, why, she’d seen the tabloids when Corinne’s injuries were fresh.
“Yes. I hoped you might help me help him. Please?”
Corinne Weathers frowned. “Is he in trouble? For–for helping me?” The door started to close.
“No–yes,” I adjusted my line of thought to see if it would get me where I needed to be.
She seemed protective of him. I knew Stockholm syndrome wasn't real but…
maybe in this case..? “I don't want him to lose his job—” True. “—but right now, it’s in real jeopardy if he doesn’t start sharing what happened that night. "
Also true. I just didn’t share the fact that the person he and the team were in jeopardy was from was me.
“He didn’t hurt me.” The rise in her tone and volume left me wishing I could take a step back, and I was pretty sure Liz actually did, though she rallied rather fast from the flurry of footsteps that backed me up again. “Heath was— he—”
I leaned forward, intent on getting this one more self out of her. Nine sets of raps on the weatherboard, peeling house, a whole lot of calling, and worrying the media would set up a fresh picket line the entire time set a fresh fire under my butt.
“I’d love to know more, Corinne," I said softly, attempting to remain impartial despite my growing desperation to find out what the hell had actually happened that night and somehow, impossibly, make it right.
“But unless someone speaks to me about that night—” A pen poked my ribs.
I twitched and sent an irritable look over my shoulder, turning my attention back to the door.
“Like I said, I need to know—” The poke came again, this time twice as hard.
I bit my lip but when a hand gripped my shoulder, pulling me backward, I snapped. “What the hell?”
A shadow stalked into the space where I stood a moment before. Liz pressed to my back.
“That’s Valentine, right?” she breathed in my ear.
I could only nod as Heath sent me an indecipherable look. Our gazes clashed for a long moment that halted time, and in his coal eyes I read both concern and disappointment. Then he turned away, and pressed a hand to the door.
Corrine let Heath Valentine into her house without a word. The door shut after him, the locks snicking with a sense of finality as we were left outside.
I wasn’t sure what hurt more—the fact that the man who was accused of hurting her just walked into her house with no resistance whatsoever, or the fact that his disappointment in me mattered more than a door shut in my face in the middle of an investigation.
I stared at the peeling pale blue door for a few seconds longer like it might open once more and admit the Chimera who had disappeared into the depths of the house.
Spoilers: he didn’t.
“Let’s go,” I said brusquely, fighting the tears that prickled the corners of my eyes.
Fuck it, I would not cry over some puck boy who barely knew my name.
Liar, liar, lox bagel on fire.
The fact that he had gone out of his way to find out what I liked and watched me last night rankled. On top of today, of all things.
Plus, he was going to lose his job, his place on the team, if I didn’t get the answers I sought. I’d be the one to do that to him, alongside Coach. Me. And that would hurt because…
I cared.
Damnit, I cared about Heath Valentine. Probably for a similar stupid reason that Corinne Weathers let him into her house.
I released a groan as I reached my car, settling into the driver's seat and rested my forehead on my steering wheel.
“Do you want me to drive?” Liz offered.
“No, but thank you for the offer. I need to do something stupid.”
“Like get a Chimera off your mind?” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively at me when I raised my head and started the car.
I pretended not to hear her. Pretended not to think about Valentine following me home last night. Him talking to me as I trembled my way through my dark apartment, locking up, getting water.
He’s a predator.
But a caring one.
Gah, it was all so fucked up inside my head. Because if he had asked me to let him in last night, I absolutely would have let him.
But that was last night, and this was now. “No.” I straightened and flicked my pony tail over my shoulder. “Like get back to work, ignore Valentine’s life choices and work this through.”
Screw him, and screw his choices. I had my own to make. That just wouldn’t involve him if he didn’t involve me. Petty, but then, hadn’t we said last night that we would go back to hating each other today?
Wish granted.
“That doesn't seem so stupid to me," Liz muttered, checking her mail on her tablet as I pulled away from the curb, hot spotting off my phone.
My lips formed into a grin that could have been a grimace instead. “Not yet. But I'll make sure we get there before the day’s end.”
And I'd make sure Valentine knew it, too. I was cruel like that when I didn’t get my way. Or bratty. Yep. Totally bratty. If Valentine wanted to play games with me, then I’d play. Bonus round: I’d get my job done as well. Win/win, and all in my favor.
Just the way I liked it.
“Did you think you could walk into a traumatized woman’s house and get away with asking her what the hell happened?”
Both my eyebrows winced on my behalf as I Coach berated my lack of discretion earlier in the day.
“Call it desperation,” I muttered, staring at the desk and knowing full well that they should be on this side of it. “You know what the next steps are.”
I mean, it would help if I knew what the hell had happened in the first place as I was still fizzy on the details, as, it seemed, was everyone else in the hockey world.
All I knew was that I walked back into Ward’s office—my office, for the week— and found yet another news interview with Hux talking intently to an anchorman about the incident that he hadn’t even freaking attended.
And all without authorization from the club.
Apparently, the players decided to go rogue on this one. Heads would roll.
“Who?”
“You know who.”
“Fuck.” Coach rubbed a hand over his face, never breaking eye contact with me once I raised my head and stared him down. “Fuck. You’ve got the balls to match this team, you know that.”
“It’s why I’m here, after all.”
“It’s not the only reason,” he argued. “You’re supposed to figure out how to get into their heads, work through the points and set them up with a better public face.
Sort this shit out.” He waved at the oversized screen he’d dragged into his spartan office to display the interview that, no matter the intent, would condemn at least one player.
Valentine.
And no cupid’s arrow or pretty row of hearts would save that sexy player’s tight ass this time around. We both knew that.
"That's all you want me to do, huh?” I held Coach’s gaze unflinchingly, not looking at the distraction of Hux that he offered in his own bid for desperation. “Even when the team bands together and pull stunts like this?”
Coach blew air through his teeth. “Especially when they do this shit, Cora. This is them hurting. Needing a protector. I can only do that on the ice. Right now, they need a hero. Do you need a goddam cape? Because today, their hero has to be you.”
I smirked despite the overwhelming sense of responsibility that slammed into my gut. The mask I had to wear before it all grew too much.
I can’t save him and he’s relying on me.
No, I had to find a way. That’s the message that Coach sent to me.
“Alright,” I said softly. “Then I need someone to tell me what the fuck happened, so that I can fix the mess they started.” I gathered my files scattered across the desk, the pictures and black and white print blurring for the amount of times I’d read over them.
“If they don’t trust me, how can I help them? ”
“Cora, look at me.” Ward matched my tone.
“Sweetheart,” —I knew it wasn’t derogatory, that pet name, and I stopped, giving him the attention he deserved for the hours he put in with the team he loved as much as I did— "Heroes don’t just save people who trust them.
Those arrogant fuckers out there? When I first came on board, they hated me.
Every last one. Right through to the playoffs.
Do you know how many games that is in a season?
No, don’t count. It’s a fucking lot, is what it is.
Not one or two or three or four. Or even twelve.
It’s daily practices with them bitching me out.
Kicking players off the team who don’t make the cut.
Subbing them through Injuries. Scandals just like this one.
Hell, you were with me for the last of those. We weathered that one together.”
I frowned. “Yeah, you stood between me and them like a brick wall and wouldn’t fucking move.” I remembered that all too well. “You wouldn’t let me talk to them alone. I felt like a teacher about to do something wrong with your …squad.”
I’d felt dirty afterwards and questioned all my life choices. Months later I’d looked back on that time and wondered if that hadn't been Ward’s point. Then, I accepted it and moved forward. Now, I wondered again if I hadn’t screwed up.
“They hated on me so bad through that.” Coach grinned widely. “Solace slashed my tires twice. Hux threatened to quit the team altogether. You know what I did?”
“What?” I knew he didn't report that to the club or the police, because I’d never heard about the incidents until now, which meant no one had. He’d kept those secrets locked to his chest. I wondered what else no one knew about the team and where this speech was headed.
“I promoted Hux to captain. Gave him the responsibility he needed to take the team to the win.”
“You took the team to the championships," I objected. “I used to sit and watch those practices every morning at four a.m. as inspiration. Because if you could all get up and train that hard, then I should be working on PR strategy for you all.”
Coach nodded. “We know, and we saw you.”
That stopped me. “What?”
“They know, Cora. They respect you, even if right now they don’t trust you. Want that cape?”
I stared a moment longer, then kept gathering my things. “I’ll buy my own. A fucking sparkly one,” I muttered.
Ward laughed softly. “Good girl,” he murmured.
Goosebumps rippled along my arms as I grabbed my files and beelined for the door, ignoring Coach’s amused look when I ducked past him and almost ran into a wall of Chimera just outside. The scent of pure ambrosia hit me at chest level.
I grabbed the coffee in its reusable bamboo takeaway cup without thinking and looked up into Valentine’s smokey black eyes.
“That was some speech,” he murmured, staring down at me without blinking.
“He’s had some practice on you assholes,” I managed, clinging to my files and my coffee without wearing or dropping either.
“That last line is mine, Cora. Not his. Remember that.”
I nodded, backing up and made it down the hallway without dropping a single thing or ruining my panties, but damn, it was a close thing.
These Chimeras were murder.
Or maybe just one.