Part 23 (1/2)
The game ended with the score unchanged and the Blaze going down in defeat. The mood among the players the following morning was as heavy as the blanket of snow holding them captive in the hotel. Brody had been texting Shannon since the game ended, but she'd only responded once, a cryptic message saying she was sorry and they'd talk the next day. As far as he was concerned, Nate was the one who needed to apologize. But Shannon was still skittish about certain things and the trainer's accusations had obviously embarra.s.sed her. He needed to rea.s.sure her. A few minutes in one of the stairwells should suffice; as long as he could hold her. But first he needed to find her.
The ballroom where the team was eating breakfast was less subdued than Brody expected. The frantic whispering died down as he crossed the threshold, however. He didn't have time to worry about what was eating his teammates. His first priority was to make peace with Shannon. A text from his agent buzzed across the screen of his cell phone, but Brody ignored the summons to call him immediately, instead stalking into the kitchen looking for a particular hairnet.
But Shannon wasn't there. His cell buzzed again. Bridgett demanded that he call her. She'd have to wait along with Roscoe. A sharp tightness settled into his chest when he couldn't find her. Something wasn't right. He turned to find Nate bearing down on him.
”Where is she?” Brody growled.
”Don't you know? Hank called her up to his suite.” The trainer looked at Brody with disgust. ”I tried to warn her about guys like you, but she wouldn't listen.”
Brody had the muscled trainer pinned up against the wall in an instant. He should have known Nate would find a way to get Shannon in trouble. She'd said he had it in for her from the start.
”What did you do to her?” he demanded, his forearm pressed to the trainer's neck, making it impossible for him to answer.
”Brody!” Connelly pulled him off Nate, but not before Brody got a well-placed punch in.
”Hey! Brody, stop!” The linebacker held both his arms.
”I didn't do anything to her, Janik!” Nate swiped at the cut on his lip. ”You did this!”
Brody tried to deck him again, but Will had his arms pinned behind him. Devlin stepped between him and the trainer. ”Brody you need to see this.” He shoved his iPad in front of Brody. The Girlfriends' Guide to the NFL blog was open on the screen. A roaring began in his ears as he read.
No!
THE GIRLFRIENDS' GUIDE TO THE NFL Well here's something sweet for you to nibble on ladies: It seems that everyone's favorite tight end has been keeping a few secrets. Very dangerous secrets, if you ask me. According to a very close acquaintance with number eighty, the Blaze star has been hiding the fact that he suffers from diabetes, the same disease his mother has. This would of course explain his current ”love interest,” the not-so-interesting Shannon Everett, who also happens to be a PhD candidate in nutrition science. It seems this is one of those ”you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours” arrangements, but does anyone believe our blue-eyed beauty would be caught dead scratching the back of a homely scientist? More important, this explains our Brody's sudden lack of interest in Candi.
Obviously, number eighty would love to keep this secret under wraps until his contract extension has been finalized, but we girlfriends believe in safety first. So consider this a public service announcement, Brody. Either get yourself seen by a real doctor or play doctor with someone a little easier on the eyes.
Twenty-four.
The room swam before her and Shay was having difficulty concentrating on what Hank Osbourne was saying. They were seated in the large suite the general manager ran the team's road operations out of; she in one of the overstuffed armchairs and he on the elegant chintz sofa. A cherry coffee table complete with a silver tea service separated them. As he had before, the Blaze security chief, Donovan Carter, sat above her, this time on the arm of the sofa. The scene was civilized and polite, yet Shay had the chills.
”Tell me again how you, not a medical doctor and not yet a PhD, were overseeing Brody's health?” Mr. Osbourne asked.
”I-I really think you should be talking to Brody about this.” Shay was having trouble making the words pa.s.s through her trembling lips. This was it. The secret was out. Brody would be devastated, but he'd survive on his charm, his talent, and this celebrity. She, on the other hand, stood to lose everything.
”Oh, you can bet I will be talking to Brody about this, just as soon as I can wrangle his sorry a.s.s up here.” Mr. Osbourne slid his wire-framed gla.s.ses to the top of his nose, pausing seemingly in an effort to rein in his temper. ”Right now, we're talking about you. An unpaid intern of all things. How did someone whose job it was to make protein shakes become responsible for the daily nutrition of a multimillion-dollar commodity in this organization?” His attempt to curb his anger failed as the last part of the question came out in a shout, making Shay cringe in her chair.
”I blackmailed her.”
Shay's shoulders sagged with relief at the sound of Brody's voice behind her. She wanted to leap into his arms, but when he slumped into the chair next to her, his face was stony and his eyes focused everywhere but on her. A hollowness was forming deep inside her belly at his lack of rea.s.surance.
Mr. Osbourne pinched his nose again before blowing out an exaggerated breath. ”Please don't add felonies to your offenses here, Brody. I have very little patience for your flippancy right now. I take it you're not going to deny the blogger's report, either.”
Brody slouched lower in the chair. His demeanor belligerent. ”It's the truth.”
Both the GM and Mr. Donovan turned their gazes on Shay. ”Is this true, Miss Everett? Was he blackmailing you to help him conceal his ailment from the team?” Mr. Osbourne asked.
She opened her mouth to answer, but the words wouldn't come out. Did it really matter now if they knew she'd been in the locker room looking for something to sell to the blogger? All that stood between her and her PhD was a performance review from the team. Without it, she wouldn't get her degree this month and she wouldn't get her federal job. And Mama would lose everything.
”What exactly were you blackmailing her with, Brody?” Mr. Carter asked.
”s.e.x.”
Shay's cheeks burned and her stomach rolled. She snuck at look at Brody, who was trying to appear nonchalant in the chair, but his jaw was tight and his fingers were white-knuckled where they gripped the arms. He was afraid, too. Afraid of what this would do to his contract extension and his beloved career. But she knew he was more fearful of facing what was after that career and he'd do anything to push that reality far back. So, like any little boy who was scared, he was striking back. While she appreciated his attempt to protect her secret, she wasn't sure she appreciated his a.s.sa.s.sinating her character.
”I'm told I'm worth it,” he said smugly. ”Even by those less-experienced studious types.”
Shay felt as though he'd punched her in the gut.
”Hey!” Coach Richardson yelled from behind her.
Brody leaped out of the chair and began pacing the room, now cloaked in uncomfortable silence. Shay's eyes grew heavy with unshed tears. He walked to the window, staring out at the white snow before turning to face the occupants of the room again. Their gazes connected for the first time since he'd entered the suite. His blue eyes were a mix of anguish and fear, with hurt s.h.i.+ning in them, too. But they turned stony with anger when he glanced at her.
He crossed his arms over his chest and rested his hip against the window ledge. ”I told her I'd scuttle her performance review so she wouldn't get the last interns.h.i.+p credits she needs to get her degree. She has a job waiting and if she doesn't have her doctorate this semester, they'll give it to someone else.”
”Jesus,” Coach muttered behind her.
”Do you have anything to add, Miss Everett?” Mr. Osbourne asked.
Shay clamped her lips shut, afraid that if she opened her mouth she'd wail. She shook her head.
”Well that brings us to the blogger, then,” Mr. Carter said. ”Brody, how many people knew about your . . . condition?”
Brody's jaw was clenched so tightly, she almost thought he wouldn't answer. ”Four.”
Mr. Carter arched a brow, waiting for him to elaborate.
”My agent, my personal physician, my personal trainer, and . . .” He didn't bother saying her name, instead jerking his chin in her direction.
The anger rolling off him hit her like a shotgun blast. He didn't trust her after all. Had he ever? Shay slipped her trembling hands beneath her thighs as she tried to tamp down on the sob that threatened to escape.
The silence in the room was overwhelming as each man refused to make eye contact with her. Everyone except Brody, whose gaze bored into her. Unable to stand it any longer, she sprung from her chair.
”It wasn't me!” The tears threatened to fall, but Shay's pride was stronger. She pleaded her case with Mr. Osbourne. ”I've been a.n.a.lyzing the blog for possible suspects for months-”
”Here we go with the d.a.m.n spreadsheet again,” Brody muttered.
The breath seized in her lungs. He really didn't trust her. It had all been a lie to get what he wanted. All so he could continue playing a game and never have to grow up to face the real world. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she stomped over to Brody, but he held up a hand before she could speak.
”Save yourself the embarra.s.sment. You're the only one of those four people who needs the money. I don't need a spreadsheet to know that.” The scorn in his voice made her nauseous, but she was Shannon Everett from Lake Hamilton, Texas, and she wasn't going to let him have the last word.
”Yes, Brody. But I needed that money three months ago just as much as I do today.” She turned on her heel to face the others. ”If you're not going to arrest me, I'd like to go back to my room, please.”
”No one's getting arrested here, Shay.” Coach Richardson went to wrap a protective arm over her shoulders, but Shay stepped out of his reach. He turned to Mr. Osbourne. ”Hank?”