Page 39 of Sin Bin Bully

"We're still waiting, but Sam..." Joe hesitates. "Even if they come back clean, this press could end your career. Itisthe off season after all, so the results might not be the definitive clear you need."

The words hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. "No," I growl. "I won't let that happen. I've worked too hard-"

"I know, I know," Joe cuts me off. "But we need to be prepared. Call the lawyers, Sam. Now."

The line goes dead. I stand there, phone in hand, my chest heaving. The silence of the gym feels oppressive now, closing in around me. I head for the stairs, deciding I'd rather go for a run outside.

But I can't outrun my thoughts. How did everything go so wrong so fast? And who the fuck is trying to take me down?

I will figure it out. And I will make that fucker pay.

18

KIM

Kim

Ipush the food around my plate, the weight of my thoughts making each bite taste like ash. My thoughts have been tangled up for days, ever since that call with Avery.

I keep wondering how they are doing. Now that I know what Nathan is up to, I feel more panicked than before. But I can't help them, not here. And even if I was there…I can't do anything against him either.

And when those thoughts aren't slicing through me, my mind drifts to the other night. The way Sam made me feel and how I got myself off to him. What am I becoming? There's always been this pull between us, but how can I let myself go there?

Sam's voice cuts through the silence. "You're awfully quiet tonight, little dancer."

I don't look up, focusing on the intricate pattern of the plate instead. "Just tired," I mutter.

"Bullshit," he says, his tone sharp. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

I risk a glance at him. His gray eyes bore into me, intense and searching. There's something there…something that looks like concern. It makes my stomach twist, thinking that he would be worried about me, but no. He can't care for me.

It's wrong, all of this is wrong.

"Nothing," I say, forcing myself to take a bite of the perfectly cooked steak.

Sam puts down his fork with a clatter. "Kim, talk to me. You haven't said more than two words all day."

The sound of my name on his lips sends unwelcome heat pooling in my stomach. I hate that my body reacts to him, even as my mind rebels.

"What do you want me to say?" I finally meet his gaze, but my voice is neutral, not even really wanting to fight with you. "That I'm happy to be your prisoner? That I'm not worried about things that I left out there?"

His jaw clenches. "You're not a prisoner. You're mine."

"Same difference," I mutter.

Sam stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. He stalks around the table, and I tense, ready for... I don't know what. But he surprises me by pushing the chair back so that I'm facing him and cocking a brow.

He's not choking me. He's not grabbing me. He's waiting for me in that patient way of his. And I know it's a game, it's all a power play, but…I kind of like how patient he can be with me.

And sometimes I like when he's not.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Tell me what's wrong," he says, his voice a soft command. "I'll fix it."

I laugh, a bitter sound that scrapes my throat. "You can't fix this, Sam. You can't fix the fact that my brother is running drugs out of our parents' old house. You can't fix the fact that I'mworried sick about my brothers. And you sure as hell can't fix the fact that I..." I trail off, the words dying on my tongue.

His grip on my hands tightens. "That you what?"

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