Page 10 of Ice-Cold Truth

“Five minutes, guys. Let’s get miked up.”

We shuffle forward obediently, and I do my best to focus as the wires are clipped to my jersey and an earpiece is secured. Sam leans in closer. “Don’t forget, if Hendricks starts getting too personal, just give Elyse a wink or something. She’ll play along.”

I nod curtly, my jaw tightening. The thought of using Elyse as a shield, even under these relatively harmless circumstances, doesn’t sit well with me, but it’s too late to back out now.

The opening strains of the show’s theme music blare, and we’re ushered out onto the brightly lit stage to raucous cheers and applause. I paste on a smile, waving to the crowd as we take our seats across from Marv Hendricks himself.

The wiry host grins, his teeth blindingly white against his tanned skin. “Welcome to the Seattle Firebirds. Thanks for joining us, fellas.”

A smattering of polite applause ripples through the studio audience. Hendricks leans forward, steepling his fingers.

“I have to say, you boys had quite the season last year, and expectations are high for this upcoming season too. Twelve straight wins, a record-breaking shutout streak, and, of course,that little dust-up with the Portland Blades at the end of last season.” His gaze settles on me, one eyebrow arched meaningfully. “Care to share your thoughts on that, Captain Ford?”

Here we go. I straighten in my seat, projecting an air of calm assurance.

“Just some typical playoff intensity, Marv. Emotions were running high on both sides.”

“Is that what you call it?” Hendricks presses, his tone deceptively mild. “Because from where I was sitting, it looked an awful lot like your goon squad trying to take out Portland’s star center.”

Mutters of disapproval ripple through the crowd. Sam tenses beside me, his hands clenching into fists. I shoot him a quelling look before turning back to Hendricks with a tight smile.

“With all due respect, I think you’re oversimplifying things. Hockey’s a physical game. Sometimes stuff happens in the heat of the moment that maybe shouldn’t.”

“Stuff like your boys taking out Brayden Jacobs’ knee?” Hendricks presses, his eyes glinting. “Jacobs barely qualified to play this season, you know. Torn ACL, MCL, the works.”

Shit. I hadn’t realized the extent of Jacobs’ injuries. A twinge of guilt gnaws at me, but I quickly squash it. That’s the nature of the game—players get hurt all the time. “Jacobs is a hell of a player,” I say carefully. “I’m sorry to hear about the severity of his injury, but I can assure you, there was no malicious intent on our part. Sometimes, these things just happen.”

Hendricks opens his mouth, no doubt to continue his interrogation, but I cut him off with a tight smile.

“Speaking of players getting banged up…” I turn toward the audience, searching until my gaze finds Elyse. She’s watching me closely, her lips slightly parted.

Holding her gaze, I wink slowly.

A delicate flush steals across her cheeks, but she doesn’t miss a beat. She leans forward, propping her chin on one hand as she regards me with a sly smile.

“Looking good out there, babe,” she mouths, loud enough for the microphones to pick up.

A startled murmur ripples through the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hendricks’ brows shooting upward in surprise. Seizing the moment, I grin wolfishly at Elyse.

“Just wait till you see me later, sweetheart.”

Her blush deepens, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she bites her lip in a gesture I’ve come to recognize as pure flirtation. Desire uncurls low in my belly as I take in the sight of her.

“Ahem.” Hendricks clears his throat pointedly, dragging my attention back to him. “Care to, uh, introduce us to your…friend, Captain?”

I tear my gaze from Elyse with obvious reluctance. “Guys, this is Elyse Masterson. My girlfriend.”

A shocked silence falls over the studio. Sam coughs, poorly disguising a snort of laughter. I shoot him a quelling look before pasting on my most charming smile. “What can I say, Marv? Elyse is the real MVP in my life.”

The audience titters, hanging on my every word. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elyse duck her head, but not before I catch the pleased curve of her lips.

Hendricks rallies quickly, always ready with a cutting retort. “Isn’t that sweet? Here I thought the great Jack Ford was too busy sowing his wild oats to settle down.”

I shrug, unconcerned. I could deny the tabloid rumors, which are mostly garbage, but people will believe them if they want. “What can I say? Elyse tamed me.”

More laughter, this time accompanied by a few theatrical swoons from the crowd. Hendricks scowls faintly, clearlydisgruntled at having his line of questioning so thoroughly derailed.

We banter back and forth for a while longer, the conversation mercifully light and focused on the team’s success this season, but my attention keeps straying to Elyse, admiring the proud tilt of her chin and the sparkle in her eyes whenever she meets my gaze.

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