The Girl With Diamonds (Midtown Brotherhood Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter Three

AUSTIN’S INTRUSION

Austin sat in his car, Kings of Leon singing a little too loudly, with his seat belt still latched across his shoulder. He should have been in the locker room by now. He couldn’t make himself move just yet. He wanted out of this funk he’d sunk into before interacting with humans again.

His mood, a combination of skydiving without a parachute and digesting rotten eggs, continued to plague him through the weekend. He couldn’t stop thinking about the woman. That purple wig haunted his dreams. He went back to the bar Saturday night with Henrik to look for her. In fact, they checked every bar in Midtown.

Nothing.

The bartender didn’t remember her either.

The ghost of hangovers past. That was what it felt like. Adrenaline pierced his nervous system, keeping his mind on hyper-awareness. It made him anxious. He checked all the local media outlets on his computer before he left home, but now he had the nagging urge to check them again. The thought of her caused him to dwell, and dwelling wouldn’t help him get the puck in the net tonight.

“Hockey.”

He repeated it over and over again. He needed to keep to his pre-game routine. He needed to go inside, change into his shorts, eat spaghetti, get loosened up, and then put his gear on. In that exact order.

His stomach churned. Even the thought of spaghetti reminded him of her. Everything he did, saw, or said reminded him of that blurry vision in his head. The calm, calculating features that eased him into submission like a puppet on a string.

He had to get his thoughts straight. He had to get this built-up nervous aggression out of his system or he’d go crazy.

The wig. The deception. His stupid, yet loyal flip phone. He had to forget about it, at least for a little while. Hockey was the only thing he knew that would help. His skates on the ice could cure anything.

Austin trudged through the door of the locker room, slinging it back on the hinges until it banged loudly against the wall. It was a sign of his mood. It simply meant beware of Blakely.

Instead of somber silence, hooting laughter greeted him.

He glanced up, pausing at the edge of the Rangers logo on the middle of the floor. His locker normally waited ready for him with gear and his jersey neatly hanging inside. Tonight it displayed a wide, admittedly colorful variety of chains and handcuffs. Wait. Was that feathers? The kinky assortment was highlighted by a distinctly provocative Ludacris song while Callen added a little strip tease at the locker beside it.

Austin’s fists clenched as the catcalls continued around him. Taped over his name plate, on display for the world to see, was a glossy photo.

His photo.

“Henrik.”

Austin sauntered across the logo, not giving a shit about tradition. He jerked the picture down, crumbling it between his white knuckles. He turned to the roars of his teammates’ laughter. Karma would find them later. Especially Callen.

Right now he wanted one man. His friend stood in the doorway. Henrik hadn’t bothered to put on his pads and gear yet. That was smart. You couldn’t run in gear, and the smartass would need to run.

Henrik peeked around his shoulder at the locker and smirked. “If it helps, I didn’t tell your sister.”

Austin pointed at him, his eyes narrowing. “Two seconds, Rylander.” His tone could have summoned demons. He threw his bag down and methodically took off his suit jacket. “Starting now.”

Henrik vanished. He disappeared down the hall at a sprint. The head start wouldn’t matter. Austin would catch him. He’d catch his best friend and shove his stupid blond head in a toilet.

He doubted it would make him feel better this time. It would take something more powerful than a prank to lighten the thundering clouds that followed him.

Austin chased Henrik down the hall and into the tunnel beneath the rink. He scattered a couple guys who still loosened up with a game of gutter ball. Henrik escaped into a stairwell, and Austin caught the door before it closed. He was gaining on him. Three stories up, Henrik dashed into the staff hallway and through another door.

Not just any door. The women’s restroom. As if that would save him.

Austin shoved the bathroom door open and rounded the corner. Except it wasn’t Henrik he found. A girl stood at the sink. He dropped to the floor behind the wall. The bathroom made a semi-circle around to the exit on the other side. He would have to wait it out. He glanced beneath the few stalls he could see, wondering where Henrik had stowed away. The faucet cut off.

Austin peeked around the corner again. Stilettos and legs. Long, immaculately decorated legs, no less. The girl pulled her dark, shiny hair back into a slick ponytail, revealing a string of sparkles around her neck, and huffed at the mirror.

“You have bagel on your face.” She growled it out like she was angry. “Thanks a lot, Stella.” She leaned over the sink, the tight skirt spreading over her ass. She reapplied lipstick before straightening black rimmed glasses. “Today just isn’t my day.”

Her words carried a hint of a deep southern drawl. This girl wasn’t your average New Yorker. She took a few more deep breaths, her hands gripping the edge of the sink. She looked nervous, but she stood up with confidence.

“You can do this. It’s just an interview.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “No one knows you here. You shouldn’t be embarrassed.”

Interview? Austin craned his neck around until he spotted the shimmering press badge dangling around her neck. Between it and the diamond necklace, the girl could audition for a disco ball. He studied her face, the long curves of her hips. He thought he knew all the reporters. He didn’t know her, though. He would have definitely remembered her.

The girl took one more deep breath and strolled out of the bathroom without looking back. After the door slammed shut, he walked over and stood at the sink. A stall door creaked behind him, but he didn’t turn around. He spotted Henrik in the reflection of the mirror, cautiously close to the nearest exit.

“That girl.” Austin pointed at the door, his mind reeling, replaying the image of her again. “Have you seen her before?”

Henrik shook his head. “No. Why?”

Austin turned around, and Henrik flinched. Always on guard. “She looked upset.”

“And that concerns you because…”

Huh.

Good point.

It didn’t concern him at all. He didn’t know her. It didn’t matter what caused that tiny crease between her eyes behind those glasses. It wasn’t any of his business. He had enough to worry about right now.

He looked around at his friend and smiled. “You’re off the hook.”

Henrik stood very still, studying his face that on the outside he made sure looked calm and collected. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Austin stepped forward an inch. Close enough to place himself within striking distance. His hand darted out and grabbed Henrik’s shirt collar. “Because I’m a fucking liar, that’s why.”

Henrik tried to run. He struggled and fought, but it was in vain. Austin was bigger and stronger, his will for revenge greater than Henrik’s desire to escape. Even as he stuck Henrik’s perfectly blond head into the toilet, listening as he begged for mercy, Austin couldn’t stop thinking about the girl.

Not the one with the wig. No. That image was gone, at least for now. He had a new distraction. A welcomed one. Austin’s thoughts focused on the girl with the diamond necklace. If she wanted an interview, he’d make sure he gave her a good reason to pick him.

Chapter Four

MAGNOLIA’S INTERVIEW

Magnolia joined Evan in the press box. A palpable buzz penetrated every inch of the atmosphere surrounding them. The lights sparkled a brilliant red and blue around the arena. An array of laser patterns sprawled across the faceless crowd as they erratically waved towels above their heads to the beat of the music blaring through the speakers. Everyone cheered. Even the elderly lady in the corner with the wobbly bun on top of her head bobbed from side to side.

Evan was caught up in the moment as well. He leaned over their desk, pumping both fists in the air in a horrible King Kong impression. If it wasn’t for the suit, Magnolia would have lost him among the rowdy patrons. She tugged him back toward his seat, fearful for his life. “Calm down. We’re here to work, remember?”

Evan glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “You live in Midtown now, Magnolia. You’ve got to start enjoying hockey. In fact, as your boss, I demand it.”

Magnolia cringed. “I like hockey.” The lie made her voice sound sour. She couldn’t look at him when she said it.

Evan leaned back in his seat, wrapping his arms behind his head. “Name a team. Any team south of Chicago.”

Magnolia pursed her lips. Damn Canadian. She knew he’d bring up that study packet he’d given her.

“The Lightning. The Panthers.”

Evan’s face was amused but smug. “I can’t believe anyone working in sports broadcasting could know so little about hockey.”

Magnolia’s face hardened. “Then why did you hire me?”

Evan stacked his papers and pulled out his laptop. “You know why. You’re an awesome reporter. If you take the time to learn hockey like you know football, or baseball, you’ll be the best one in our crew.”

Magnolia groaned, and it made him laugh. She grew up in the south. In Georgia, football was king. She’d worked her butt off in college, internship after internship to get that interview at Time Warner. Watching her big break go up in flames was torture. The betrayal was worse. It changed something inside her.

This internship was her ticket away from the appraising eyes of everyone she knew, including her own sweet but overbearing mother. At least here she could avoid answering questions about that damn article.

Magnolia had been on the job for MSG for five weeks, and despite a crash course, she still had difficulty learning hockey. She begged Evan to switch her to the Knicks. At least with basketball she could fake it. She wasn’t sure how he expected her to interview hockey players when she barely understood half of what they said. It was on-air experience, though, and that was what counted. New York was simply a ticket somewhere else.

“Can we focus for a minute? I need you to go over my notes, and I still have questions about Troy’s interview last week.”

The Rangers were on the ice, taking a few last-second practice shots before the game started. Evan’s big game buzz, as he liked to call it, was officially ruined. He rolled his eyes as he opened his computer. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Magnolia jostled through her papers to find her list of questions. “When Troy asked number fifty-three about the winning goal Friday night, he mentioned something about finding it on his tape.”

Evan shook his head mockingly at his computer screen as he logged in. “Next time you’re in the locker room, take a look at one of the sticks. The players tape the handle and blade for contrast. Copley meant that his teammate made a really good pass onto the tape of his stick.”

“Okay.” She nodded, writing furiously. “And he said something about a guy chirping him.”

Again, Evan tried to hide his amusement at her cluelessness. “Chirping is equivalent to talking smack. The dude was an asshole to him all night.”

“Oh.” Magnolia made a note. “That makes more sense than what I thought.”

Evan laughed, but it was cut short. Barging down the aisle of seats, not bothering to apologize to the row of old men she slapped in the back of the head with her giant purse, was Cressida.

“Shit.” Cressida slung her bag around in her lap. “I missed warm-ups.”

Magnolia shook her head, but Cressida only grinned back. Even if she was annoying, it was hard not to like Cressida.

“What?” Cressida pulled out her mirror and checked her make-up. Cressida and her priorities. “I like watching them stretch.”

Magnolia tapped her pen on the table. “They’re wearing, like, three layers of padding.”

“Oh, Mags. Have an imagination.”

Evan leaned around Magnolia, never missing the opportunity to scold Cressida. Evan was technically their supervisor, but he didn’t have the authority to reprimand her. That came from the head lady, Mrs. Stamcose.

“You’re late.” Evan gave Cressida a stern looked, but then it faded. “And you realize that your attitude is the exact reason why I didn’t pick you for the interview rotation, right?”

Magnolia sniggered. “I thought it was because she wanted to ask that one guy to do his interview with his shirt off.”

Cressida eyed them both, but she wasn’t angry. “That one guy happens to be Henrik Rylander. He’s not only one of the best players in the league, but the hottest. You want to increase female viewers? It would take one shirtless segment with him or one of his little buddies, and every woman in the country would be tuning in.”

Magnolia looked at Evan, but he threw his hands up in defeat.

Cressida was a force to be reckoned with, never shy about her opinions, and they both knew that would never change. Despite Evan’s teasing, it was Cressida’s choice to stop doing on-air interviews.

Cressida was a journalist, and preferred her seat behind the desk, recapping games. They also allowed her to run a sports blog for the station, and that’s where she really shined. The readers had no idea that the sports-savvy Mr. Manhattan persona who loved to stir up controversy was actually a high heel wearing, self-professed shop-a-holic.

They eased into their familiar game time routine. Magnolia opened her laptop and concentrated on taking notes. After the second intermission, Cressida stood up to stretch. “Any idea who you’re going to interview yet?”

Magnolia stared at the page of stats in front of her and eventually turned to Evan for help. “Blakely is the big story so far,” he said, checking his stat sheet again. “He’s a one man wrecking crew out there tonight.”

“Surprise. Surprise.” Cressida pulled up a new screen for her blog. “Can I quote you on that?”

“Evan’s right.” Magnolia checked the numbers again. Austin Blakely had seven hits tonight. Even she knew that was a lot for one game. “He also has a goal, and got in a fight.” And by fight, Magnolia meant Blakely bloodied a guy’s nose. It was pretty one-sided, from what she could see from the box.

“Oh, trust me. I’m not complaining.” Cressida leaned over and elbowed Magnolia with a wink. “If you sneak in early, you might even luck into that shirtless segment.”

Evan rolled his eyes, which Magnolia was sure was Cressida’s goal. “I’d start working up some questions, and I’ll look over them before you head down.”

“I appreciate the help.”

Evan shrugged, eyeing Cressida. “One of use has to be helpful.”

“I’m helpful.” Cressida looked at Magnolia seriously. “Stand on his left. If you can get his shirt off, the camera will have a great of view of that tat on his arm.”

Magnolia stifled giggles as Evan stood up. “I’m going to bathroom.”

She jabbed Cressida in the side when he was gone. “You tease him too much.”

“Evan is a big boy. He’ll survive.”

“You know what I mean.” Magnolia looked knowingly at her.

Cressida turned back to her computer, scanning the screen. “If you’re referring to that ridiculous notion that he has a thing for me again, I’m simply ignoring you.”

Magnolia checked behind her to make sure Evan wasn’t in hearing range. “It’s not a notion.”

“I don’t date co-workers. I definitely don’t date my boss.”

“I totally agree.” Dating a co-worker, especially your supervisor, was a horrible idea. “However, you shouldn’t torture the guy.”

Cressida smiled at her computer screen. “Says the leggy firecracker in her leopard print heels.”

Magnolia shot Cressida another elbow.

“I’m just sayin’.” Cressida tapped her pen against her bottom lip. “You should ask for the shirtless interview. I wouldn’t tell you no.”

***

The smell was horrific. A mix of Bigfoot and rotten eggs. Magnolia forced herself not to cover her nose or run from the room gasping for fresh air. She clutched her clipboard tight to her chest, held her breath, and followed her cameraman Randy into the locker room.

Eventually, she would have to become immune to it.

Randy led her straight to Austin Blakely’s empty locker. “He’ll be a minute.” Randy opened his camera case and started unrolling cable. “Probably finishing up his post-game interview with NBC first.”

Magnolia nodded like it wasn’t new information. At some point, Evan probably told her how it worked, but she still functioned on information overload. She took mental notes of everything.

Reporters huddled around players in media scrums. Their questions were so insightful, and the players’ replies flawless. A queasy ache creeped into her stomach. She hoped this Blakely guy kept his answers simple and to the point.

An equipment manager eased by her to throw a stick and a set of gloves into the locker behind her. Her eyes immediately went to the tape. Evan was right. An intricate pattern of white tape wrapped around the blade and handle of the stick. She stepped closer, bending down to inspect the pattern. Without thinking, she reached out to touch the spiraling design that ran down the handle.

“Looking for a souvenir?”

Magnolia whipped around, only to come face to face with an up-close view of a Rangers logo. She quickly took a step back and looked up.

Oh. My. Gosh Almighty.

She would have gasped if the air hadn’t fallen out of her mouth.

Austin Blakely was a forward with a reputation of being a top notch enforcer. One of the best in the league. The fact was written very plainly in her game notes. Magnolia knew that meant he would be tall. She expected an unkempt, brawny giant with a few missing teeth.

Austin Blakely wasn’t missing any teeth.

Lush lashes outlined seafoam green eyes. Chestnut hair swooshed perfectly across a boyish face. Where were the battle scars and the menace in his stare? Hadn’t she watched him violently pin two defensemen against the boards and then bloody another one’s nose just an hour ago? This man was meant to strike fear into the hearts of his opponents.

Magnolia didn’t feel afraid.

He said something. His mouth moved, forming the words in her direction. Her brain didn’t register it. She mentally shook herself. “What?”

“The stick.” Even his voice was lovely. And that smile. It caused her stilettos to feel suddenly unsteady. “You can have it if you want. You know, for your kid, boyfriend, or whatever.”

“I don’t have a kid, or a boyfriend.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I’m here to interview you.”

His smile widened, the edge of his damp hair falling in his eyes. He leaned forward, tapping the edge of the press badge around her neck. “I know.” He eyed the badge closely. “Magnolia.”

Magnolia took a step back.

Cocky grin. Mischievous chuckle. It had been a test.

A maneuver to check her availability, and she’d spilled her guts like some innocent, doe-eyed groupie. Magnolia straightened her shoulders. This was serious. This was her job. She wasn’t here to be charmed. She pulled her pen out of her hair, causing a few loose strands to fall out of her perfectly placed ponytail. “Would you like to run through the questions before we begin?”

Austin shrugged, stepping toward his locker. He pulled off his jersey and threw it into the pile of laundry accumulating in the center of the room. It flew over her head. She had to duck to keep it from hitting her face. “I’m sure it isn’t anything new.”

Magnolia watched, a little miffed, but curious as he mechanically unstrapped his pads. It looked more like a reflex than a planned task. His fingers jerked the Velcro and slipped the pads down his arms, and then lifted his chest plate over his head in one fluid movement. When an elbow pad whizzed by her cheek, she tried again. “I would prefer we do a quick run-through.”

Austin tugged off his skates and paused. He looked at her, too long to be innocent. His gaze, narrow and speculative, didn’t stay on her face. Her cheeks burned like hot coals, engraving his stare deep inside her. Finally, without speaking a single word, he held out his hand. It took her moment to realize he wanted her clipboard. She handed it to him, watching intently as he scanned the list of questions.

His brows shot up. “You’re not going to ask me about the penalty?”

This time Magnolia shrugged. “I like to keep my interviews positive.”