with concern. “You okay, Neenee? Not getting a headache, are you?”
    “No, I’m okay.”
    The Blades, singly and in small groups, began entering the room through a set of heavy metal double doors. “Look, do you mind if I go talk to the goalie, David Hewson?” Quinn asked. “He’s friends with one of my old pals from the Sent I haven’t heard from in a while. Thought he might have the lowdown on where the hell he’s disappeared to.”
    “Go on.”
    Quinn gave her a big hug. “Any time you want to go to a game, I’m your guy.”
    Sinead smiled. “Thanks, big bro.”
    Quinn disappeared into the throng, leaving Sinead standing against the far wall of the Green Room clutching her water, which she now chugged down. She wondered how Lou was going to tell Adam she was here. Yo, your attorney was at the game; she’s in the Green Room waiting to talk to you. She imagined Adam making a put-upon face and thinking, Great. I just want to have a brew and go home, and now I have to talk with my lawyer .
    Five minutes later, Adam appeared, his light brown hair wet and slicked back. Sinead took another sip of water, carefully watching him. Not the chattiest of men by any means. Though he did stop to say hello to a few people, he looked uncomfortable, and all the conversations seemed to be short and sweet. It reminded Sinead of herself when she was first starting out in law; she was terrible when it came to small talk, so much so that Oliver discreetly told her one day that she was getting a reputation as a snob. Ever since then, she’d forced herself to schmooze when she had to. It still didn’t come easily, but she’d mastered it. A workaholic? Yes. Intense? Yes. But a snob? No.
    She checked her watch, growing impatient. Surely Adam had to know she was waiting to talk to him. Was it possible he was making her wait on purpose? Stupid thought; there was no reason for him to be manipulative.
    Adam shot her a quick glance, acknowledging her presence. A few more people apprehended him on his way over. Sinead felt like she was at the end of a receiving line waiting her turn to talk to hockey royalty.
    Finally, they were face-to-face.
    “Hey,” he said politely.
    She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t.
    “Hi.” Did he not want to talk to her? “I watched the game. I hope that makes you feel a bit more comfortable about my ability to defend you.”
    “Did you understand it?”
    “Why don’t you quiz me?” Sinead challenged.
    An amused smile flickered across Adam’s face. He folded his arms in front of his chest. “Well? I’m waiting.”
    “For what?”
    “The mini lecture on how the elbowing penalty isn’t going to help my case.”
    “I had no intention of mentioning it. At least not here and now.”
    Sinead looked at him with concern. “You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”
    “Yeah, something’s wrong.” Adam frowned. “I spoke with my brother earlier today. He told me you were going up to Claresholm next week to interview him.”
    “Why is this bothering you so much, Adam?”
    “I don’t like people poking around in my personal life. Talking to my brother doesn’t make sense. Do you think he’s going to have anything but positive things to say about me?”
    “I don’t know. You tell me.” A tense standoff ensued. “At the very least he might be able to recommend some other people I can speak with, since you haven’t,” Sinead said eventually.
    “That’s because there isn’t anyone.”
    “Then it’ll be a short trip for me, won’t it?”
    “Very short,” Adam replied curtly.
    “How did it go with the press?” Sinead asked, changing the subject.
    “Same as always.”
    “Meaning?” God, Mr. Taciturn had returned. It was like pulling teeth to get him to talk tonight.
    “They ask me about the ref’s call, I say, ‘I don’t think it was a penalty, but the refs have a tough job out there.’ They ask me about how the team is playing, I say,

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