20. Emma

Chapter 20

Emma

B y the time we reach The Lamb, it is like a mob riot is going on.

"What the hell?" I mumble as I park up on the side of the road and get out.

"Wait," Taran says, hurriedly joining me.

"There he is!" I hear someone shout. "The fucking traitor!"

Eyes wide, I glance at Taran in shock as a barrage of questions come flying at him about his transfer deal.

"Fuck," I mutter as Taran heaves a sigh and adopts a pretty grim expression.

Lachlan and Keir race over when they see us surrounded, pushing their way through the crowd to get to us.

"Get back in the car," Keir says, forming a wall of giant enforcer between me and the mob baying for Taran's head on plate and mine, by the sounds of it, for allowing an enemy into the Warriors camp. It seems we have both sides here, and I foresee this becoming more than just a small protest.

With a slight squeal, as Lachlan shoves me backwards and opens the back door to push me inside; Taran takes the passenger side as Lachlan climbs in the back with me when I scoot over. Keir is left with the driver's side, and he folds himself practically in half to climb in, grunting at the lack of legroom and shoving the seat back onto Lachlan's legs.

"Hey, mind it, Jolly Green Giant!" Lachlan snaps, pulling his legs up.

"What is this?" I shriek, shoving my hands into my hair and looking around frantically as the press and angry fans surround poor Minnie.

Keir fires up the engine and moves the car forward.

"What are you doing?" I bellow.

"Getting you out of this clusterfuck," Keir grits out and keeps moving so that the crowd will either get mowed over by Minnie or move out of the way. Luckily, they chose to move. I mean, this is a village outside of Inverness, not London, where they'd double down and jump on the car like fucking baboons at the Safari Park to rip off our windscreen wipers.

"Fuckin' hell, this is nuts," Lachlan mutters.

"Everyone calm down," I say in a futile attempt to bring some order to the chaos, even though they're perfectly calm and I'm the one going ape shit. The guys just look more pissed off than calm at this point.

Keir navigates Minnie through the throngs of people, finally breaking free onto a quieter street. "Where the fuck do we go now?" he asks, glancing back at me in the rearview mirror.

"I—I…"

"We need a plan," Lachlan states.

"He's right," Taran speaks up, finally turning to face us with a determined glint in his eyes. "This needs to be addressed head-on. Running away isn't going to solve anything."

"Yeah? And what's your grand plan?" Keir retorts, clearly still peeved about the whole situation.

Taran sighs. "A press conference. We get ahead of this before it spirals even more out of control."

"A press conference?" I echo, bewildered. "In case you haven't noticed, the Arrows fans already think you're a traitor, and the Warriors are after my head for bringing you in! This wasn't even my idea!" I'm bordering on hysterical because this is a massive shitshow and will flush the entire plan I have to gain local sponsorships down the toilet to float off into the Thames. Okay, not that far, but I lived in London for a long time. Old habits die hard.

"Which is why we need to clarify things," he replies. "We need to lay it all out. The truth, the plans, the vision for the team. Clear up any misconceptions."

"Whose idea this was, to begin with," I add under my breath.

Lachlan nods slowly. "He's right, Emma. We can't sweep this under the rug now it's out. If we don't grab this bull by the horns, we're going to get trampled."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Okay, fine. But where do we even hold this press conference? I don't exactly have a media room ready to go."

Keir smirks slightly. "How about back at The Lamb?"

"Oh, fuck," I groan.

"No, he's right. That actually might work," Taran says thoughtfully. "It's central, familiar, and it's the place where people come together."

Lachlan pulls out his phone and starts dialling, presumably calling ahead to warn the pub owner of our imminent takeover. Meanwhile, I try to calm my racing heart and collect my thoughts.

"Okay," I say after a moment. "Let's do it. But everyone sticks together, okay?"

"A JGG is our bodyguard," Lachlan snorts, amused by his own joke, even if Keir is not. I'm too nervous to laugh. My palms are sweating, my heart is racing, and my mouth is dry. What the fuck am I supposed to say about this? I'm not prepared. I should've been, but I thought I had more time. Whoever leaked this…

The realisation hits me hard. Whoever is spelt Colin McCrae.

"That bastard," I hiss. "This had to have been Colin."

"How so?" Lachlan asks.

"He must've known. He and my dad must've discussed it."

"That double fucker," Keir snaps. "He is doing my fucking head in with this. What is his problem? I thought he was going to be at the Warriors until he keeled over."

"Same," Lachlan murmurs and then frowns at me.

"What?" I ask with a gulp.

"Maybe he expected your dad to give him the team? I don't know, I'm trying to justify this arsehole behaviour, because it's not like the Colin we know."

"Maybe," I breathe out, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. If Colin's behind this leak, it means he's not just unhappy with my leadership—he's actively sabotaging us. Great.

Keir turns into the car park of The Lamb and stops Minnie with a final lurch as the crowd, surprised to see us back so soon, all turn to the car and lunge forward again. Our arrival isn't exactly inconspicuous. We pile out of Minnie like clowns from a tiny circus car, and Keir leads the way inside, his huge hot bod giving off ‘don't mess with us' vibes.

Lachlan offers me a hand and helps me out like we're stepping onto a battlefield rather than into a cosy village pub.

Taran steps forward with an air of determination, his charming smile in place as we make our way into the pub, saying, "We're going to answer your questions just as soon as everyone settles down, yeah?"

Somehow, like he has cast a spell over them, it works, and everyone follows us into the already crowded pub to listen to what we have to say. The atmosphere is frosty at best, but at least we aren't being marched to the guillotine.

Yet.

Keir leads the way to the back like a tank, parting the sea of irate fans and minor press people, while Lachlan and Taran flank me protectively. I feel like I'm about to give the presentation of my life without any actual prep or a bloody PowerPoint.

Maybe that's because you are, you fucking pickle!

Shut up, brain. Now isn't the time for this!

Fuck.

Fuck.

We find a spot near the far end of the pub, where a makeshift stage has been set up for karaoke. Perfect.

We face the crowd. I feel all eyes on me, waiting with bated breath. My mouth is dry, and my hands are clammy. Bloody hell, I really should've prepped for this.

Taran leans in close and whispers, "Start with what you know. Be honest. They'll appreciate the truth."

I nod, taking a deep breath. My legs have turned into jelly, but somehow, I get them to hold me steady.

"Okay, everyone," I start, my voice wobbling slightly but gaining strength as I go on. "I'm Emma Thornton, the new owner of the Nessie Warriors. I know some of you know that already, and I know you know I've only been here for a couple of weeks. I know you're all wondering what's going on with the team and the apparent leaks about Taran Fraser joining the Warriors."

Murmurs ripple through the crowd, but they quiet down again when I raise my hand.

Someone from the back shouts, "Why bring in an Arrow fucker? We don't need him!"

I glance at Taran, who stands tall and unfazed by the insult. His confidence is reassuring, even if it makes me feel slightly inadequate. Facing the heckler, I take a deep breath and release it. "Actually, we do. Colin McCrae, the long-standing team coach, made the decision to quit a couple of days ago. This has left us in the lurch with the new season around the corner. Lachlan McLeod has taken over as player-coach, but…" I look at him. He is grim-faced but gives me a nod to get it all out there. "… but in order to effectively coach the team as a player, he will be stepping down as the Warriors Captain. Taran Fraser, whose transfer deal has been in the works for a while now, will take over as the Warriors Captain."

The roar is almost deafening. I feel bad about not giving the Warriors team this information first-hand, but time ran out for all of this to be handled appropriately. We've been forced to dive in at the deep end, so somehow, I will have to make it up to them.

"I know Colin's departure is a blow," I say firmly. "Believe me, it's a shock for all of us. But we're not here to dwell on what's gone wrong. We're here to figure out how to move forward."

Taran finally steps into the limelight; his natural charisma seems to melt away some of the crowd's apprehension. "Look, we understand your concerns. I'm not here to take over and change everything you love about the Warriors. Transfers happen, and we need to accept it and move on. Accept that when I put on that jersey, I'll be all in with this team. I've played against these lads enough times to know they've got heart, talent, and potential. I'm not here to replace anyone but to add to what you already have—strengthen it."

Lachlan steps up beside us. "I'll still be on the ice, pushing us towards victory. We're still the Warriors, through and through."

A murmur of reluctant agreement ripples through the crowd. I can see a few heads nodding, considering the possibility that maybe this isn't the end of the world.

An older man near the front, wearing a battered Warriors scarf, stands up. "And what'll happen to Colin? Why did he leave so suddenly?"

I meet his gaze and try to not to spit and hiss as I say his name. "I can't speak for Colin's personal reasons, but I assure you, there are no hard feelings on our side. He's given so much to this team over the years, and we respect his decision."

Liar, liar, pants on fire…

The man sits down with a grunt, but at least he isn't throwing anything.

"That's all very well for the fucking Warriors, but what about the Arrows? Fraser, you're fucking us over!"

"This wasn't Taran's idea," I say calmly. "Like he said, transfers happen. I'm sure your coach and owner have plans that they will fill you in on. I'm only here representing the Warriors as that is my team. I can't answer questions about the Arrows, and Taran won't. That's not his place to speculate or guess."

The crowd seems to simmer down slightly at my words. There are still some heated glares and mumbled curses, but no one's rushing the makeshift stage with pitchforks just yet.

Keir steps forward, his towering presence enough to demand silence again. "Look, guys," he says in that calm, level-headed tone of his, his Scottish accent deepening. "Change is hard, aye. But we're a team. We've always pulled through tough times together, and this won't be any different."

Someone near the bar shouts, "And what about you, Drummond? You okay with all this?"

Keir chuckles, and for a moment, the tension eases. "Aye, I am. Lachlan as player-coach is what is best for the team, and Taran's a bloody good player. He will be an asset to the team. I'm sure the Arrows have someone in mind as his replacement, and I'm sure he will kick arse and make our lives a living hell on the ice." He shoots Taran a half-smirk, which Taran returns with a nod.

"Look. I get that this is a shock to everyone, Warriors and Arrows, alike. We could stand here all night debating, but what we really need is to get behind our teams and give them our support, especially now with all these changes, yeah?"

The pub falls silent, the murmurs fading into a tentative acceptance. It's a small victory, but I'll take it. I feel the weight lift off my shoulders just a tad.

"Thanks for hearing us out," I say, my voice stronger now. "We'll try to keep you updated before decisions leak like this again."

Lachlan grabs my hand and tugs it as he moves off the stage. We are done here, and there is nothing more to say. Without looking back, he slips through the door leading to the loos and heads for the back door. I grin as I remember us fucking out here, and I know he does too when he shoots me a seductive smile over his shoulder. Keir and Taran are close behind us as we make our way back to Minnie and pile in, Keir back in the driver's seat.

"Well, I guess going around and asking for sponsorships is off the table right now," I murmur.

"Pretty much," Lachlan agrees. "But it's not forever. Plus, the calendar is coming up. I'm actually looking forward to being Mr December."

"Who says you get December?" Keir grouses.

"Me. I'm going to hang a Christmas stocking from my dick and…"

"No!" I bellow in his ear. "This isn't porn; it's understated and lets people imagine and not actually seeing your cock with their own eyes. Fucking hell."

"Jealous?" he smirks.

"No," I grit out. "Embarrassed for you."

"Oh! Burnnnnnn!" Taran yells, clapping his hands. "She got you good!"

"He did walk into that," Keir agrees as he drives Minnie the short distance to my cottage and pulling up as we laugh and Lachlan sputters, threatening to whip it out to show us he has nothing to be embarrassed about.