Page 37 of Twisted Ruck

"Why are you here?" Storm demanded.

"Chelsea asked me to come," Atlas replied. "Why areyouhere?" He was looking as pissed off as a cornered lion, ready to strike back if necessary, when the moment presented itself.

"I don't mean here in the infirmary." Storm rolled his eyes as though the question was obvious. "I mean here at the Smashers."

"What do you think I'm here for, dickhead?" Atlas snarled. "Same as you, I'm here to play footy."

"Is that all?" Frost asked. Once again playing good cop to Storm's bad cop.

Atlas didn't meet his eyes. "I don't know what you're getting at."

"Bullshit," Storm snapped. He lowered his voice. "We know what you did to Bruce. Why?"

"Because he didn't want Chelsea working here," Atlas said, looking at him side on. "Are you trying to tell me you object to her being here? Because that would be a load of shit. You want her here as much as I do."

"Was that the only reason?" Frost asked. "Because of Chelsea?"

Atlas stared at him like he was out of his mind. And yet, there was still something in his expression and body language that said to me there was more to it than he claimed.

"What else might there be?" he said evasively.

Storm crossed his arms and glared at Atlas. "How about the incredible coincidence that a manager at your former club was appointed GM right after Bruce died?"

"I don't get to choose the general manager," Atlas pointed out. "They must have thought he was the best person for the job. Which he is. We won the premiership last season, remember?" As if anyone could forget. "The Sydney Devils rugby club is full of talent."

"Like Otis Skinner," I said softly.

Atlas twitched. "Yeah, like him." He seemed as fond of Skinner as he was of Storm.

"What's going on?" Jay stopped in the doorway and peered past Dallas' shoulder.

Atlas turned his head slightly towards him. "They seem to think there's more to what happened to Bruce than I've told them."

"Right." Jay all but pushed Dallas out of the way and closed the door, shutting us all in. "Are you going to tell them the truth?"

"Don't say we can't handle it," Storm said.

Atlas rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I'm sure you can. You might not want to."

"You can't tell us that and not tell us everything," Frost said. He looked antsy as hell, itching to find out what was going on.

"Fuck," Atlas said under his breath. "But not here. I don't want to risk being recorded." He lowered his hand. "Telling you could get you all killed. If there's any chance we're overheard, you don't want to suffer the repercussions. Trust me."

"As far as I can spit you," Storm muttered. "If you walk out of here right now, what guarantee do we have that you won't run? Or go off and tell your boss we're onto you?"

"We work for the same people," Atlas said, becoming visibly exasperated.

"Says you." Storm didn't look so certain.

"Says me too," Jay said. "Atlas is right. We shouldn't talk about this here. We've probably said too much already." He shot Atlas a worried glance.

"Name the place," Storm said. "Not your place."

"Yours, if you can guarantee we won't be overheard," Atlas said. "You're not going to trust any other location I name."

"Nope," Storm agreed. "After training. My car."

"I'll drive myself," Atlas said. He lifted his chin, not giving a centimetre. His brown-gold eyes were as steely as Storm's grey ones, hard and determined.

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