Protective Instinct

by Tricia Lynne

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Can’t Fight This Feeling

  Brody

  The windshield wipers flicked back and forth, the dog snored in the back seat, and REO Speedwagon played soft in the background. Most of my belongings were getting drenched in the bed of the truck as I jotted a note next to another name on my legal pad and ignored most traffic laws.

  It had taken me only two hours to draw up my playbook, and I was executing as I drove. My brain buzzed with all the things I needed to do, all the pieces that needed to come together for everything to work.

  I had only one goal.

  To give my girl the world and hope she didn’t throw it in my face.

  But some of the biggest risks in life, like love...they had to be taken with a leap of faith.

  My lawyer told me that.

  I pushed the phone button on the steering wheel. It was going to be a long night, I had more calls to make, and only one person on my mind.

  “Hey, man. It’s Brody Shaw. Sorry to wake you, but...”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Well, that was entertaining, but now what?

  Lily

  “You’ve got a small tear in the lateral ankle ligaments.” Hitting a button on the portable ultrasound keyboard, I re-angled the transducer I held to Shaun Jackson’s ankle. “Right here. See?” I pointed to the screen.

  He leaned forward. “So, a grade one sprain?” The running back had a medical background. He’d been in a PT program at Michigan State before he was drafted.

  I shook my head. “Given the swelling, I’m calling it grade two. I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Pulling the transducer away, I wiped it off with a paper towel before also using it to clean the jelly off his skin. “I’ll tape it instead of giving you a brace as long as you take it easy. I catch you overusing it, I’ll slap a brace on it. Walk-throughs only for three days. Ice, ten to fifteen minutes as often as you can. No heat. I want to see you again in two days.” I met his eyes to let him know I meant business.

  He nodded. “Thanks, Lil. It’s nice to have staff that actually cares about our bodies. Billy Costello was your dad, right? Is that why you got into this?”

  I started pulling out supplies. Tape, scissors. No pre-wrap. “Something like that. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Damn, this job was demanding. Balls to the wall from 5:30 a.m. till every last player with a concern or a sore muscle had been seen for the day. On game day, sometimes, I didn’t get home until one or two in the morning.

  I missed Jet and Mack. Away games were even harder on them.

  I’d managed to skate on Dick for the first two away games, but he was pissed. We’d screamed at each other in the trainer’s office and half the team heard it. At least it earned me some street cred with the players and staff.

  They knew I wasn’t afraid of Dick.

  Of course, I never passed up a chance to scream at Dick. He thought he was going to make my life tough until I folded? Fuck him. I made his equally miserable. He’d either back off or fire me, and if he fired me, I still got the shelter. I had it in writing, and nobody out-stubborned me.

  Hayes flagged me down coming out of the supply room. “Hey, Lil. I need you to come with me. It’s kind of an emergency.”

  “Can’t Darius handle it? I need to tape Shaun up.” Everyone knew as the most senior trainer, Darius was the boss. I followed his lead. I also promised him I wouldn’t—under any circumstances—put the players at risk because of my stepfather. He was a decent guy, and understandably wary since he’d recently fired a guy who had done exactly that.

  “Sweetheart, it has to be you.” Hayes’s look pleaded with me.

  “Hayes, we’re friends, and I actually don’t mind when you call me sweetheart away from here, but try not to do it here, okay? It kind of undermines this whole badass thing I’ve got going on that has everyone afraid to piss me off.”

  He gave me a little salute. “Got it.”

  “Hey, Vanessa,” I yelled down the hall. She stuck her head out of the office. “Can you tape up Jackson’s ankle for me? Apparently, sugar britches here needs help elsewhere.”

  She smiled. “I gotchu.” She was a good trainer. Efficient. No nonsense. They were a little scared of her, too. And Shaun had a major crush on her.

  Handing off the pre-wrap, I gave her my thanks.

  I followed Hayes up the hall, through the weight room, out into the corridor by the locker room. “Where are you going? This better not be some kind of STD you picked up on the road. I’m not checking out your junk. Ever. No matter how much it burns when you pee.”

  He laughed. “We’re going next door. And for somebody who doesn’t like it here, you sure as hell fit in.”

  “Eh, I grew up around football players. I can talk shit as well as any of you.”

  When we got into the other building, he pushed the button to call the executive elevator.

  I stopped dead. “No. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going up there unless someone’s dying. And if it’s Dick, he can just fucking die.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to trust me on this.”

  He held out a hand I grudgingly took, and I let him pull me in to the elevator. When we stopped climbing, the doors opened into the waiting room for Dick’s office. His secretary gave me a thumbs-up as I walked by.

  Huh? What was that about? “Hayes?”

  He ignored me, pecked on the door, and a deep male voice answered, “Come in.” It wasn’t Dick’s vomit-inducing tone I heard, either. Walker opened the door and made an after-you gesture, following me in.

  Dick was behind his desk trying to look like the king of the castle, but I could see the way he tapped his fingers on the desk. He was uncomfortable.

  But the other man wasn’t.

  He leaned a hip on the credenza. I hadn’t seen him since I was a little girl. I was seven, and my father’s team had just won the championship.

  Mike Brennan had been on the field with the players and families while confetti rained down on our heads. He was nearly as big as my father. I didn’t know his name at the time, but he bent down on one knee and booped my nose. I giggled. “I’ve got a secret,” he said. “Would you like to know what it is?”

  I nodded, and he leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “You can’t tell. Not even if Dad tickles your ribs, or says he’ll buy you a pony. Promise?”

  I nodded. “I promise.”

  “Very soon, I’m going to tell the world that your daddy is the Most Valuable Player. And in a few weeks’ time, Mom and Dad are going to take you to Disney World to celebrate.”

  I nearly screamed with excitement, but the man put a finger over his lips and winked. Then, he stood and shook my father’s hand before turning to the stage in the middle of the field.

  “Look at you all grown up!” Mr. Brennan’s voice rumbled through the office. “We shared a secret once. Do you remember?”

  My smile was wide and soft. “I do. Hi, Commissioner Brennan. It’s good to see you again. I hope you’ve been well. How are the knees?”

  “Ah, you know how it is. I’d have them replaced, but I don’t like the knife. I’ve been told your home was robbed recently, and your father’s ring was stolen?”

  Dick’s eyes widened. Apparently, he didn’t know. “Yes. I reported it to the police, and I’m sure they’re doing their best.”

  “I’m sure they are.” He turned to Hayes. “I assume you’re joining us as the team’s collective bargaining representative, Mr. Walker? Is the Collective Bargaining Association aware of the meeting?”

  Hayes nodded. “We’re aware this isn’t a formal injury complaint, but a jumping off point for the CBA to decide if an investigation is warranted.”

  “Good. Good. Have a seat.” He nodded to the couch on the opposite wall.

  What the hell am I d
oing here?

  Hayes nudged me and I followed him to the couch.

  “Commissioner, if you don’t mind me asking, and not that we don’t appreciate the visit, but what’s this all about?” Dick was trying hard to play it cool, but as my dad would say, he looked like a cat shittin’ peach seeds.

  There was another knock, and the door opened. “Ahh, you’re about to find out.”

  In waltzed Darius, carrying a folder. He was followed by Mariana Lopez, the team’s public relations manager. I’d met her a couple of times trying to get things with the shelter moving. I wanted the announcements made, but Dick was stalling.

  Brody walked in, and my skin prickled with awareness, the shadows under his eyes making me worry. Yet, when that whiskey color landed on me, all the lines and angles of his face softened, and he was that college boy in a pickup truck again.

  When his stare skated to Dick, my stepfather’s face leeched of all color.

  The league commissioner lifted his chin at Brody. “Ready?”

  Brody nodded.

  “Your floor, Mr. Shaw.”

  Brody casually crossed his arms. “Mr. Head, I contacted the commissioner because of concerns I have about player health and how particular members of the Bulldogs organization are dealing with player injuries.”

  Oh, shit! I’m fairly sure I gasped, and my mouth was nothing but a flycatcher.

  Brody continued. “Commissioner, this year during training camp, I was examined for the possibility of a separated shoulder. As is my right, I got a second opinion and that doctor wouldn’t refute or confirm the diagnosis; however, Ms. Costello and Mr. Paul also examined me and didn’t believe the shoulder had been separated. I realize they’re not orthopedic specialists, but I wasn’t the only person suspicious of my diagnosis.

  “After the injury occurred, I waited for some time in the treatment suite for our head orthopedist, Dr. Adam Chase the Third...” His gaze flitted to mine and I bit down on the inside of my cheek. He knew. “...to hand down a diagnosis. I wandered around to see if I could find out what was taking so long and overhead voices in Dr. Chase’s office discussing my injury. One was Dr. Chase. The other was Richard Head. The third voice, I couldn’t identify. I could only make out small groupings of words, but my shoulder was mentioned. As was Ms. Costello and her supposed fiancé.

  “I believed those three were the only people in the room until the end of the conversation, when I overheard a woman’s voice. It was the Bulldogs public relations director, Mrs. Mariana Lopez.”

  The commissioner nodded at him. “Brody, I appreciate a good yarn much as the next person, but speed it up. I’m not here to listen to how good of a snoop you are.”

  “Yes, sir. Mrs. Lopez?”

  “Commissioner, yesterday, Brody called me with a favor to ask, but he was also curious about the content of the meeting he overheard since he knew his shoulder and Ms. Costello had been a topic of the conversation. You should know that I’ve resigned my position as PR director because of the following events.”

  Dick flew out of his chair. “This is absurd. What two ex-employees have to say is irrelevant and likely fabrication.”

  The commissioner stood from the credenza to his full height. “Richard. Sit. Down. I will hear this out.”

  Dick slid back into the chair, face falling as he fidgeted with his shirt collar.

  The commissioner lifted a hip and sat on the edge of Dick’s desk. “Mrs. Lopez, please continue.”

  “During that meeting, the third person was an assistant trainer named Devon Taylor. Devon was concerned he might lose his job because of an accident he caused in the weight room that re-injured Brody’s shoulder.”

  “Is this the supposed separation?” Mr. Brennan looked to Brody.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He turned back to Mariana, and she continued. “Devon was aware of Brody’s romantic relationship with Ms. Costello. He claimed Brody told him, though Brody says he never told Devon such a thing, but that’s neither here nor there. He took the information about the relationship to Dr. Chase and Richard, afraid he’d lose his job for causing Brody’s accident.

  “After the fantasy suite scandal broke, Brody was tasked to stay out of the media and away from women completely. It wasn’t a secret to anyone in the organization. Then his dog bit the pet sitter, who filed a lawsuit.” She shifted in her chair, recrossing her legs.

  “After being warned about the dog and the scandal, Brody’s decision to have a sexual relationship with Ms. Costello would become his third strike, as a violation of the conduct clause, when it became public knowledge.”

  She glanced back at me then turned back to the commissioner. “I was brought into the meeting in Dr. Chase’s office for two reasons.

  “Years ago, the Chase family tasked me to hide Dr. Chase’s indiscretions and questionable behavior when Ms. Costello broke off her engagement with Dr. Chase. In fact, I did it so well, I was offered this job as a result. Dr. Chase’s father is not only a sitting senator, but one of Richard’s golfing buddies.

  “The second reason I was called to the meeting was to control the flow of information when evidence of Brody and Lily’s relationship was leaked. I was also tasked with finding an investigator to collect evidence of the relationship. You should know that Brody wasn’t aware of Ms. Costello’s connection with Dr. Chase until I told him yesterday.

  “Dick...uh, Richard,” Mariana continued, “wanted to force Brody into a trade, and the conduct clause was how he planned to do it.”

  The commissioner’s brow furrowed. “It’s shady, but not a policy issue, Mr. Shaw. You broke the rules you were tasked with and agreed to. You had the relationship anyway, and you got caught. You told me this was about player health, not your love life.”

  Dick had been relatively quiet up until that point. “See? This is superfluous and I’m so sorry these people have wasted your time, Commissioner. I—”

  Brody tensed. “I regret having to thrust my relationship with Lily into the light, but it does have bearing on player health, sir.”

  Mariana spoke up. “Mr. Brennan, if I may, I can connect the pieces.”

  He tipped his head. “Please, Mrs. Lopez.”

  “During the meeting, Richard and Dr. Chase struck a deal. Dr. Chase admitted in front of everyone present that Brody’s injury was most likely a scar tissue problem. A rather simple, but painful, non-injury of sorts. However, Trey Chase agreed to tell Brody his injury was worse than it was in order to create the possibility of putting him on injured reserve if a trade couldn’t be made. In the meantime, Brody would be benched, and his backup would get field time.”

  “And IR would reduce his contracted salary.” The commissioner eyed Dick over his shoulder. “That’s a problem, Mr. Head.”

  Hayes stood up, walked over to where the commissioner had been. “Yeah, it is.”

  “In exchange for lying to Brody about the severity of the injury,” Mariana continued, “Richard would pressure Ms. Costello to move forward with a wedding she didn’t know about.”

  My mouth fell open. This motherfucker told my ex that I’d marry him if he lied about Brody’s shoulder, so they didn’t have to pay him? “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Of all the jacked-up sh—”

  Everyone turned to me. “Um, sorry?”

  Mr. Brennan grinned. “Actually, Ms. Costello, I think that’s a rather accurate reflection.”

  Brody smiled, and Hayes turned to Mariana. “So, if I’ve got this straight, Dr. Douche—uh, Chase, and Dick colluded to provide Brody false information about his health and used Lily as a bargaining chip?”

  “You have no proof. It’s her word against mine.” Dick’s face was as red as a tomato as he pointed at Mariana.

  Brody slid down on the couch, elbows on his knees. “Unfortunately, he’s right. I requested my medical notes from Darius, and my case file only s
ays possible separation or scar tissue was the culprit. But last night, I called a few of my former teammates that are current Bulldogs players.”

  Brody turned to Darius. “You’re up.”

  Darius opened his file and pulled out several printed emails. “This is where I come in, and I believe Lily might, too. Dr. Chase has approached me about lying to players and coaches in regard to possible injuries on more than one occasion.” He turned to me. “Lily, has anyone approached you about doing the same?”

  Slowly, I nodded. “Dick came to me and asked me to gloss over injuries or not to note the full extent of an injury so a specific player could continue to play. I refused, and I can give you the player names and dates. I believe my stepfather wanted me in this position as head trainer because he thought he could force me to help Dr. Chase manipulate player health issues to the team’s advantage.”

  Brody had figured it out. I hadn’t sold him out for the shelter. I’d sold myself and was miserable because of it. Still, this was career suicide for him, and very possibly the end of my shelter hopes. Dick wasn’t going to push any shelter funding for me after what I’d just said. Although, I had the distinct feeling that a lack of funding would be the case until I played ball.

  Darius stood, handing a thick folder to the commissioner. “I received these last night. Emails from four current team members who shared their interactions with Dr. Chase and believe health procedures weren’t properly followed. Everything from concussion protocols to repeated cortisone injections. In fact, in the previous season, Mr. Shaw was given a cortisone injection in his left shoulder before eleven of the thirteen regular season games he played, all done by Dr. Chase or Devon Taylor. He’s said that Dr. Chase assured him there were no side effects with the steroid injections.

  “Recommended cortisone dosing for a non-athlete is no more than once every four weeks. It’s quite possible that excess injections of corticosteroids weakened the soft tissue around Mr. Shaw’s shoulder joint and contributed to his atypical dislocation. Without the injections, the dislocation was unlikely.”