Page 70 of Dirty As Puck
My chest burns as I stare at them. The thought of her not knowing she’s being hunted, and stalked makes me want to tear this whole garage apart.
“That’s my insurance policy,” Derek says smoothly. “If you ever get the bright idea to stop paying… well, maybe I leak a little something. Reporters don’t stay pristine for long. Imagine the headlines: Kai Morrison screws sports journalist assigned to his team and tanks her career.”
Rage surges up my spine so fast I see red. My hands twitch at my sides, itching to grab him, end this here and now. But one wrong move, and Rochelle pays the price. He’s boxed me in.
“You’ve crossed a line,” I growl.
He smirks wider. “And you’re the one holding the rope. Every month, little brother. I’ll send the details. Don’t keep me waiting.”
I turn on my heel before I do something I’ll regret, my pulse hammering as I stride toward my car. Every muscle in my body screams to fight, but the leash is already around my neck.
Behind me, Derek calls out, laughing. “See you soon, champ!”
I grip the steering wheel hard enough my fists bleach white as I slide behind it. My reflection stares back from the windshield and I realize I’m trapped, powerless, boiling with fury I can’t unleash.
The engine roars to life, but inside I feel hollow. Derek has me right where he wants me.
And deep down, I know this is only going to get worse.
27
I wake to cool sheets where his body should be. The space beside me is empty, the pillow still carrying the faintest trace of Kai’s cologne. For a moment, I think he’s in the shower, but the silence tells me otherwise. My chest tightens. He’s gone.
Pushing myself up, I roll over and grab my phone from the nightstand, the brightness stabbing my eyes. No message. No missed call. Nothing.
My thumb hovers, tempted to text him, but something in me freezes. After last night, the way he held me, the way he touched me like I was the only thing anchoring him, walking out without a word feels like a blade slipped between my ribs.
I force myself out of bed, wrapping the sheet around me as if it can hold the weight pressing on my chest. My laptop is still now on the desk, files spread across the screen. Derek Delaunay. Gambling debts. Photos. Names. I’ve pieced together enough to ruin him and enough to end the shadow hanging over Kai’s life.
My hand trembles as I click through the folder. The evidence is solid, airtight. Sports Illustrated would run with it in a heartbeat. Marcus Webb would probably throw me a damn parade. And yet, the idea of publishing it makes me feel sick. Because to tell the world means Kai would have to know. He’d have to face the truth that his own brother has been betraying him for years.
I press my palms into my eyes, fighting the sting there. How do I weigh his career against his heart? How do I choose between protecting him and letting this tear him apart?
The clock on the nightstand ticks louder, every second stretching. My chest aches with the memory of his arms wrapped around me, his voice rough with need.I just need you right now.
I don’t know what monster he’s wrestling, but I know that he shouldn’t have to face it alone.
I close the laptop, the decision clawing inside me. Maybe I can’t stop Derek. Maybe I can’t fix Kai’s pain. But I can carry the secret until he’s ready. I can protect him, even if it breaks me in the process.
I brush the sheet tighter around me, determined to save Kai, even if it costs me everything.
By the time I get back from the arena, I’m running on fumes. The loss hangs over the whole team like a storm cloud, but it’s worse when I step into my hotel and find Kai already there, pacing the room like a caged animal.
His jacket’s on the back of the couch, but he hasn’t sat once. His hair’s damp from a too-quick shower, jaw ticking, and shoulderswound like loose springs. He barely looks at me when I close the door.
“Hey,” I say softly, setting my bag down. “Rough night, huh?”
“Don’t start.” The words come sharp, clipped. He runs a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath that I don’t catch.
I take a breath, steadying my own already thin patience. “I’m not starting anything. I just…Kai, you don’t have to go through this alone. Talk to me.”
He stops pacing, but only to shoot me a look so heavy it roots me where I stand. “You don’t get it, Rochelle. You can’t get it. And I’m not dragging you into this mess.”
Mess. The word hangs in the air like smoke. He won’t say more, but it’s written all over him. Whatever’s happening, it’s eating him alive.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You’re scaring me. You’re shutting me out, and I can’t help if you won’t even let me in.”
His laugh is bitter, broken. “That’s the point. I don’t want you to help. I want you safe. Away from me, away from all of this.”
