“Be quiet a second, please. I’m sorry to cut you off, but I need to think,” he muttered. “There’s an explanation. I know it. This isn’t like him.”
“Of course it is. You have a hothead goalie who uses his big fists instead of his big-boy words.”
“Patch isn’t that simple to explain.”
“Look, it’s sweet you are going all Papa Bear for one of your players, but face it. He’s a liability. Remember the article I wrote where—”
She must have picked up a bar because her phone started ringing. Surprise, surprise, it was Scott. Impeccable timing. And crap, she’d have to take it. If she ignored him he’d keep calling, getting more and more angry.
“Hey.”
“Change of plans. Forget that puff-piece profile. You hear about this Donnelly situation? What a mess.”
“A little.”
“It’s blowing up. I love it. He snapped the guy’s arm like it was nothing but a twig. That’s a big deal. Get a meaty quote from Tor Gunnar. You’ve got half an hour.”
“Hey, wait.”
“You mean ‘Hey, great, Scott. Sounds good. Report back soon,’” he mimicked in a high voice before clicking off.
She glared at her screen. Talk about being out of the frying pan and into the fire.
But this time Scott had a point. This Donnelly story was in the public interest and she was sitting in a sports car with the head coach of the Hellions.
“If you got a call in, I can make a call out. I’ll pull over at the next lookout and try,” he muttered. “You can take the opportunity to get some fresh air too. You took a Dramamine I grabbed for you, right?”
“I did.” She paused, struck by his kindness despite the turmoil. She crossed her toes that he’d understand that she had no choice. She had to do this; it was her job. She had to ask.
“Hey, so that call was my boss. Scott Miller.”
“Okay.” Tor didn’t take his eyes off the road. “What does my favorite person want?”
She bit her cheek at his sarcasm. “He’s working on an article about Patch with quick turnaround. You’re the coach, Tor. He needs a quote.”
“No. No fucking way.” Muscles worked in his jaw. The Angel anger muscles. “You’re getting no comment on Donnelly.”
“Tor, be reasonable. This is a story that the public is going to care about. Theyshouldcare about it. Scott said your goalie broke someone’s arm.”
“I don’t know the full story. Screw Scott.”
“This isn’t just about Scott. This is me too. You know this is my job. I understand that you have an insight about Patch. Maybe you see something different than a big angry dude that beats on people, I don’t know. But neither will anyone else unless you say so.”
“This is exactly what I hate about the press.” He gave a disgusted-sounding snort. “They swoop in like vultures—like jackals—at the first sign of drama. There isn’t even a full picture of the situation and already they are chewing on the meat, cracking into the bones.”
“I admit that the media moves fast, and sometimes too fast for its own good. But I am the media too, Tor, and you have to accept that or else—”
“Or else what? Is it time to make a threat?”
“No!” She startled, taken aback that somehow they’d gotten here, to this familiar place of animosity, so quickly. “Not at all. Just that otherwise I go back to being your enemy. And I don’t want that.”
“I don’t either.” He was quiet a moment. “But tell me something, Angel. Scott Miller just called wanting a quote. How do you suppose he knew that we’re together?”
Ohfudge.
“Aren’t there bigger fish to fry right now?” Her blood froze in her veins.
“Answer the question.” Permafrost coated his tone.
