Page 122 of Ice Devil

“Not only the owner of the Cruisers but two other prominent teams as well. Plus, you were right about the owners of your media company as well. And my guess is you can figure out the one thing the sports teams have in common.”

The smirk on my face felt damn good. “No shifters on their roster.”

“Bingo. The guy didn’t want to go on record as you might imagine. A lot of money changes hands, to the tune of millions. His life would be in danger. However, he did provide just enough proof that both the FBI and the DOJ will be very interested in delving into the accusations. Given the increasing tension in various watchdog organizations determined to protect shifters, the article itself will be a bombshell. The ripple effect will be devastating for everyone involved.”

The way he was looking at me, I sensed he meant Matt would crumble with the explosion. “Understood.”

“Then I am happy to tell you Tom is frothing at the mouth.”

I took a deep breath, holding it as tiny frissons of excitement rolled through me. “That sounds amazing.”

“However, I’m not going to be writing the article.”

“What? But I thought you said…”

James knitted his eyebrows together. “You’re going to write that article. Don’t worry. I’ll be your liaison. That is if you’re still willing after everything you’ve heard to put your reputation on the line. Of course you’ll be paid the going rate, which according to Tom, won’t be too bad.”

“Willing? Are you kidding me? Both barrels of my shotgun are loaded. I only shoot when I see the whites of their eyes.”

“I think that gives me a pretty good indication.”

“I am ready and eager to bury the sons-of-bitches.”

“Beck is definitely your mate. You’ll willing to do anything to protect him as I’m sure he would do for you.”

Was he trying to persuade me that everything would be okay or issue his usual warning about things in the universe? Whatever the case, I was still lost in thought on both his upcoming fatherhood and the fact I was writing an article for a paper who’d won more awards for excellence than Edward R. Murrow.

“He already has.”

“He’s a lucky man, Sloane. Just remember that you aren’t going to make any friends. In fact, you could place yourself and that mate of yours in danger as well. Plus, there’s always a chance the Hellions won’t like being shoved front and center given the franchise’s recent approval.”

“Oh, I think Beck and his family can handle the heat. With a fire of their own. Plus, I have a few other plans in mind to ensure the Hellions are also protected.”

When James stood, so did I. “You’re exactly the same as you were in college,” he told me. “Tenacious as hell. Welcome to the team, Ms. Winters. It’ll be a pleasure working with you.”

* * *

What was that expression? Something about hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? At this point, all that mattered to the woman inside was getting justice.

Okay, maybe revenge.

With that in mind, before I’d left North Bend early that morning in yet another rental car, I’d made a few phone calls. I’d had to do so clandestinely since James had been one hundred percent right about Beck’s possessiveness.

He’d refused to leave me alone for more than ten minutes. Time in the bathroom alone had been a rarity. His personality was much more than a dog with a bone, tenacious as hell. He’d acted as if sex was all he could think about.

If so much hadn’t been at stake, we’d be rolling around in the muck right now.

Wasn’t that a pleasant thought?

I tried to act carefree as I headed into the building, yet the knots in my stomach were for an entirely different reason than before.

What I was about to do could backfire, destroying the little trust I’d rebuilt with Beck. The worst part was that I wasn’t a salesperson, unless the people buying hungered for someone to shove the product down their throat.

Which at this point, I would happily do.

However, I’d need to curtail my usual personality for one that catered to that old boys’ club James had mentioned. While I’d fluffed my hair and had worn extra makeup, I’d refused to put on heels, choosing my flaming red Converse high-tops to accompany a bright red pantsuit I’d treated myself to.

If the boys didn’t like what I was wearing, tough.