Комбат. Смертельная битва. Андрей Воронин

up when it arrived last week.”

      Demetri opened his mouth but quickly closed it. His team wouldn’t understand. Every time he left the house, he felt as if there were a giant bull’s-eye on his back, but with sunglasses, a baseball cap and workout gear on, no one recognized him. He could go about his business without pushy fans or sports reporters breathing down his neck. “To be honest, I didn’t think much about what I put on,” he lied.

      “Well, you certainly fooled me.” Todd snickered as he draped an arm along the back of the oversize booth. “I didn’t recognize you when you walked in, and I’ve been your agent for more than a decade!”

      “I didn’t even know you owned sweatpants.” Nichola’s short strawberry-blond curls bounced all over her head as she laughed. “I thought you were a delivery guy!”

      Good—my disguise worked, Demetri thought.

      “I’m scared to even ask what happened down at the studio.”

      Lloyd looked stiff, like a statue in a wax museum. His eyes were narrowed so thin, Demetri couldn’t see his pupils.

      “What did Ms. Kelly say when you confronted her?”

      A picture of the titillating newscaster flashed in Demetri’s mind, and despite himself, a grin tickled his lips. “What didn’t she say? The woman reamed me out, and at one point things got so heated, I thought she was going to give me a Chi-Town beat down!”

      Todd chuckled and then said, “I really wish you hadn’t gone over there, Demetri. You’re supposed to be focusing on rehab and restoring the strength in your shoulder, not...”

      Demetri’s eyes wandered in the direction of the open kitchen. He spotted the waitress sashaying toward him, bread basket in hand, and licked his lips in hungry anticipation. When their eyes met, she stumbled and her legs buckled out from underneath her, sending the bread basket into the air. Dozens of buttered rolls shot across the shiny tiled floor.

      Everyone at the table laughed, except Demetri.

      “Are you okay?” Demetri slid out of the booth, clasped the waitress’s forearm and slowly helped her to her feet. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

      “No, no, I’m okay...just really embarrassed.”

      “Here,” he said, bending down. “Let me help you clean up.”

      Demetri gathered the discarded rolls, tossed them into the wicker basket and handed it back to her. “Be careful. These floors are slick,” he warned, offering a reassuring smile. “I almost fell flat on my face the last time I was here!”

      “I—I—I am so sorry, Mr. Morretti. It’s my first day on the job, and I wasn’t expecting to see you seated there.”

      “Baseball players have to eat, too, you know.”

      The redhead giggled. “Sorry again. I’ll be right back with your order, Mr. Morretti.”

      “Call me Demetri. And good luck with the new job.”

      Smiling from ear to ear, she dashed back through the dining area and into the open kitchen.

      “Don’t forget the rolls!” Todd hollered, cupping his hands around his mouth. “And hurry up, tootsie! We don’t have all day.”

      “Relax, man. She’s new.”

      “Finish telling us about what happened at the station,” Lloyd demanded, leaning forward in his seat. “I hope you kept your cool, because the last thing you need is any more bad press.”

      “Oh, I was as cool as an alley cat. Can’t say the same for Ms. Kelly, though.”

      Nichola glanced up from her salad bowl. “You let her ream you out?”

      “I let her rant and rave for a few minutes, and then I said my piece.”

      Todd gulped. “It sounds like your conversation was anything but peaceful.”

      “You can say that again,” Lloyd mumbled, shaking his head.

      Demetri finished chewing the food in his mouth and then continued. “I told Ms. Kelly if she didn’t go on the air and apologize, I was going to sue her.”

      “You know that would be a waste of time and money, right? Not to mention—”

      “Todd, I don’t care,” Demetri snapped, using a napkin to clean the sauce off his sticky fingers. “I’m sick of the media taking cheap shots at me and my family. If I don’t take a stand now, the abuse will never end.”

      Nichola agreed. “I’m with you, Demetri. I think you should sue Angela Kelly. She’s a bully, and you’re not the only celebrity she’s bad-mouthed on her show.”

      Demetri shot his publicist a grateful smile. He could always count on Nichola to go to bat for him. She went above and beyond her job description, made sure his day-to-day life ran smoothly. She kept the gold diggers—in his family and on the streets—at bay during the regular season so he could concentrate on his game. Nichola was more than just his publicist; she was a real, true friend.

      “Once we finish up here, I’ll give the station a call and see what they’re willing to do.”

      “Don’t bother, Lloyd. I met with the producer of Ms. Kelly’s show, and she invited me to come on and do a live one-hour interview—”

      “That’s great!” Lloyd cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “You can set the record straight about all those crazy rumors floating around on the internet and plug your sponsors.”

      “And your charity work,” Todd added. “That will get you the sympathy vote.”

      “I’m not doing the interview.”

      “What?” Lloyd made his eyes wide. “Why not?”

      Nichola jumped in. “Because Angela Kelly’s a vulture! She looks all nice and sweet, but she’s cutthroat. Last week, she interviewed the pregnant girl on NFL Wives, and by the time the interview was done, the chick was in tears!”

      “Yeah, probably because she felt guilty for screwing her sister’s husband.” Lloyd made a disgusted face. “I represent her ex, so I know the scoop. Trust me, she’s no wallflower, and those tears weren’t real. That woman was just playing it up for the cameras.”

      “Back to the matter at hand,” Todd said, stealing a glance at his gold Rolex watch. “Demetri, please reconsider doing the interview. Angela Kelly isn’t going to double-cross you. And just to make sure she doesn’t try to pull a fast one on us, I’ll be on set watch—”

      Demetri cut his agent off midword. “Still not interested. Drop it.”

      Todd held his hands up high in the air like an unarmed man surrendering to the police. “All right, all right, you’re the boss. I won’t mention it again.”

      “Good.” Demetri leaned back in the booth and calmly addressed Nichola. “I want you to call Salem Velasquez at WJN-TV and politely decline her offer.”

      Nichola gave a thumbs-up sign. “I’ll call her when I get back to the office.”

      The food arrived, and their discussion came to an abrupt halt.

      Picking up his utensils, Demetri bowed his head and said a quick word of grace. He was starving, but he ate his food slowly, savoring each tasty bite. The conversation turned to his weekly agenda, his newest sponsorship deals and the upcoming Caribbean cruise he was planning for eighty-five of his family members and friends. He traveled with his family every year, and every year, the trip caused Demetri enormous stress. Thankfully, Nichola was overseeing all of the pertinent details of the three-week vacation in August and keeping his most unruly relatives in line.

      “There are a few things I need to run by you.” Nichola set aside her salad bowl and retrieved her iPad from her designer purse. “As you know,