Page 68 of Ice Devil

All New York Fifth Avenue with diamond-studded cufflinks and hundred-thousand-dollar watches. That was when I’d learned at least two of them had stakes in hockey teams. Granted, I hadn’t been one hundred percent certain and still wasn’t, given their names weren’t attached to the teams clandestinely mentioned.

But my instinct was never wrong.

I’d been the observer in the conversation, my hackles raised almost immediately and I’d played the role of observer and mental tagger. Meaning, I’d paid close attention to everything from voice inflections to body language.

I’d also bet, no pun intended, that they were caught up in illegal gambling involving their teams. Beck and I had flushed out a few possibilities that I’d taken further. However, I’d need to get my hands on a bookie to ascertain if I was right, and I didn’t run in those spaces.

I’d been a good girl and played the part of obedient reporter, but the conversation had stuck with me to a point I’d almost faked an illness to get away from the dinner. Maybe that’s why when the article had been in print, I’d gloated a little bit.

But since then, there’d been a silence surrounding Matt.

In my conniving mind, I had a feeling he was up to something.

I shifted to the comments on my article online, biting back a smile.

“How amazing to hear about Beck’s family. He’s even more impressive.”

“What a lucky woman to get to spend time with the Devil himself.”

“I never knew shifters were actually real people.”

Well, there were a few comments that frosted my cinnamon buns, but with Beck’s honesty, the ratings on the piece had skyrocketed. How could Matt hate me for that?

Or the powers that be in the parent company.

Which brought me back to why the silence and the secretive trip. I didn’t like being placed in such an awkward position. Plus, I wasn’t very good at small talk or refraining from speaking my mind.

Since returning and after taking a dozen extra showers to ward off evil spirits, I’d done a little clandestine research.

The hockey teams in their repertoire of corporations had no shifters on the rosters. They hadn’t even considered one in the past four years. In fact, the official on paper owners had also made no bones about the fact they would never allow a shifter as a player. To make things even worse, one had openly been a part of the true haters from the very first day a shifter had won a spot on a national team.

At least since then, the bastard had kept his mouth shut.

What troubled me more than anything was that I’d had no email sent by Matt’s secretary indicating where I’d be headed tomorrow. I wanted to be in Portland since the Hellions had somehow managed to make it to the semifinals.

Just thinking about their amazing team created little heart flutters.

Oh, my God. Did that mean I was officially a puck bunny? Well, since I’d yet to purchase anything that looked like leftover Playboy bunny outfits or makeup with sparkles, at least I couldn’t consider myself a bunny sister.

If there was such a thing.

I continued scrolling through Instagram while making notes. It was amazing how much excellent information I could find and use just by surfing for an hour daily. Granted, I always had to weed through various ridiculous options to obtain one scrap of something decent.

At least the material was usually highly entertaining.

Today was no exception, including about Beck.

HotBlondeBunny on Instagram: Beck ‘the Devil’ Kendrick can slicken my… lips any day.

Did she really think puffing out her Botoxed cherry gloss-stained lips only one inch from her cellphone was going to entice a man like Beck?

I continued flipping, realizing every muscle had tensed. Another post drew my attention and this one made me burst into laughter. At least the woman wasn’t picky about which players she wanted to hump. I had to give SweetCheeksinAlabama some credit. Her skills with Adobe were excellent. She actually appeared as if she was riding a camel in the desert with at least eight of the Hellions running after her.

“Creative,” I mused and dropped my head into my hands. I guess it was time to face the beast in the cave and find out what in the hell was going on.

Evidently, I was on the same wavelength as Matt. He was walking from his office as I was walking toward him. At least he didn’t try to brush me off. When I was a few feet away, I stopped, curious what he would say at this point.

“I finally have a schedule for you,” he said.