Page 81 of Dirty As Puck
I lean back in my chair, eyes scanning the map of his deception, the connections painstakingly traced.
Derek thinks he’s untouchable. I smile faintly for the first time in days, because I know he isn’t.
I freeze on one file. Outstanding warrants and Identity theft. Check fraud. Seriously, what hasn’t this guy done yet?
My chest tightens, and I have to tap my forehead to keep myself from losing control.
Derek isn’t just dangerous, he’s reckless, lawless, and he’s been doing this for years. The implications are outstanding.
He could destroy anyone he targets, and now I understand just how close Kai came to losing everything.
I lean back, glancing at my phone. No missed calls, no messages. Kai hasn’t reached out or answered any of his calls since things blew off all and I know why.
After everything Derek did, he must think I was also a part of it, that I somehow let this happen. The thought twists my stomach. I want to call him, to explain, to tell him this isn’t betrayal, that I never intended to hurt him, but he won’t even let me.
Right now, stopping Derek is the only way to prove to Kai that I’m on his side.
My attention returns to the numbers. Derek owes over three hundred thousand dollars to various bookmakers, debts layered with threats and urgency.
The debt pattern is brutal, and now I know he isn’t just a gambler in trouble. He has been desperate for a long time.
The kind of desperation that doesn’t think twice before hurting anyone who stands in the way. My stomach twists as I remember that Kai has been taking the hit for his brother’s financial mess for so long.
I cross-reference those debts with court filings, and a name pops up repeatedly: a private investigator hired two years ago. A quick search on the PI company confirms my worst suspicions.
They have a reputation for illegal surveillance and blackmail schemes. They don’t ask questions, they don’t follow rules, and they have a history of taking payments to ruin lives.
Derek has been operating with professional help, targeting victims carefully, calculating each move.
I feel my pulse quicken as I realize the scope. This wasn’t a one-time scam. Kai wasn’t just unlucky. He was singled out by a man who preys on anyone he lays his eyes on. Even his own brother.
And somehow, Derek managed to make him doubt me, the one person who wanted to protect him. The thought of Kai’s face, the devastation and the feeling of betrayal, makes my fingers clench into fists. He doesn’t know yet, and I can’t let him see it until I have all the pieces.
I take a deep breath, pulling together all the files, screenshots, and notes. The breakthrough is tangible, and for the first time since Derek destroyed our lives, I allow myself to feel hopeful, a smile breaking across my face. “I’m going to get you, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
And in that moment, the fight becomes clear. This isn’t about headlines. This isn’t about a story. This is about saving Kai from a man who has destroyed everything Kai ever cared about, and I will see it through to the end, no matter the cost.
32
I skate onto the ice, and everything just feels off. My stick feels heavier than usual and even my skates are less responsive. I miss passes I normally wouldn’t even think twice about.
The puck slips past me like it’s avoiding me, and I can hear the crowd’s murmurs even over the roar of the arena. Every game is the same for three games in a row now and I can’t seem to get it together.
I hit the boards hard, earning myself a whistle and a penalty. My teammates exchange glances that sting more than any slapshot. I know what they’re thinking. I should be untouchable out here, but lately, I’m barely holding myself together.
The media doesn’t help. Every arena has cameras, every sports channel a panel dissecting my every mistake. Headlines call it a “scandal distraction,” question my mental toughness, while theyspeculate on how a failed relationship has shattered my focus. They don’t know. They can’t know.
Even with all this anger boiling inside me, I feel something else, sharper and more piercing. I miss Rochelle. I miss the way she asked questions that forced me to think, the way she could see right through all my walls, and the way we would sneak around just for a kiss.
I hate that I miss her at this moment, that part of me wants her here despite everything. The thought twists in my chest, a mixture of longing and frustration.
Before the game, anxiety coils around my ribs. My hands shake while lacing my skates, my heart slams against my chest as I stare down the rink. I feel trapped between public scrutiny, my own mistakes, and the nagging, painful absence of her. Every whistle, every flash of cameras, every whispered gossip only makes it worse.
I try to push through, but the ice feels strange beneath me, and every mistake adds weight to my shoulders. I want to scream, to throw my stick, to do something, anything to break free of this suffocating spiral.
But I can’t. I skate, I play, I fail, and the press, the fans, the world, they all watch a professional player like me make a fool of myself.
I leave the arena tonight completely drained. My body aches but my mind refuses rest. The mistakes, the gossips, the missing her, they follow me into every corner of my room. I know I can’t go on like this much longer. Something has to give.
