Corrupt
Page 33

 Penelope Douglas

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Not that Damon didn’t. We just didn’t know for sure. If we’d ever seen him use anything like that, we would’ve killed him, but he also never gave us the impression that he wasn’t just that fucked up.
For now, we’d adopted an “if we don’t see it, it’s not a problem” attitude.
Kai sat with the pill in his hand, staring at Damon, and then darted out, snatching the bag out of his hand.
Damon laughed, standing up and smoothing down his black jacket. “It was a joke,” he grumbled. “You really think I need to rape women?”
Kai stood up, slipping the bag into his breast pocket. “Well, you were in jail.”
“Oh, Jesus,” I breathed out, running my hand through my hair. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” I stared hard at Kai as Damon turned on him, as well, his jaw flexing and his black eyes ready to rip him apart.
But Kai didn’t back down. They stood head to head, both of them the same height, as they glared at each other.
“I didn’t rape her,” Damon gritted out.
I shook my head. Why the hell would Kai take a shot like that?
“We know that,” I answered for Kai, pushing Damon back.
The girl had been underage, and Damon had been nineteen. He shouldn’t have done it, but he hadn’t forced her, either.
Unfortunately, the law believed differently. Minors couldn’t consent to anything, and Damon had simply fucked up. But it wasn’t rape.
Kai stared at Damon and then faltered, dropping his eyes and taking shallow breaths. “Sorry,” he said under his breath. “I’m just on edge.”
I was glad he’d noticed.
“Good. Use it tonight,” I said, hooking an arm around his neck and bringing him in. “Your nightmare is over. Hers is just starting.”
THE HOT SPRAY OF THE SHOWER cascaded over my shoulders and back, and I closed my eyes, trying to drown out all the noise of the other players in the locker room.
I last few days had sucked. I’d done everything I could to stay away from Delcour, unless it was to sleep, but it had been hard. I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
The mother was taken care of, and it wouldn’t be long before Rika noticed, but the run-in at Hunter-Bailey earlier that day had thrown me off. I knew I needed to keep my distance for now.
The one thing I’d learned about what it took to be strong was recognizing and acknowledging any weakness and then making adjustments. I couldn’t be near her.
Not yet.
When I went off to college, it wasn’t that hard. Out of sight, out of mind. Or, at least, out of the forefront of my mind.
But knowing I could run into her at any time now, look down and see her in her apartment, catch her eyes as we passed in the lobby…I didn’t plan on what that would be like to see her every day. Having her close was entirely too tempting.
She wasn’t sixteen anymore, and the fight I put up then to restrain myself was no longer necessary. She was a woman, no matter the nervous eyes, trembling lips, and tough little act she displayed. I could barely wait.
She was only a floor a way, and I had the key to her apartment burning a hole in my pocket. I needed her on her hands and knees as I took whatever I wanted, whenever and however hard I wanted it. I was going crazy.
“Shit.”
I could feel my dick hardening, and I dropped my eyes, seeing it standing straight out and ready.
Goddammit. I blew out a sigh and shut the shower off, thankful that I was in here alone.
There were several players loitering around the locker room, one of the assistant coaches having scheduled special drills with a few of us today, but I’d taken my time in the shower, in no hurry to get home.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I grabbed a second one and dried off my chest and arms as I walked for my locker. Seeing a few other players standing around and still feeling my dick hard, I placed the towel in front me, not wanting any sideways glances.
Digging into my shelves, I pulled out my phone, seeing a few texts from the guys. Since Rika’s mother was gone, they were ready for stage two.
I tossed my towel down and slipped on my boxer briefs and jeans and then grabbed my watch, fastening it to my wrist.
My phone started ringing. I picked it up, seeing the name on the screen.
I steeled my jaw, annoyed. Talking to my brother always pissed me off. However, he rarely called, so curiosity nipped at me. I slid my finger over the screen, answering it.
“Trevor,” I said, holding the phone to my ear.
“You know, Michael…” he started, not even saying “hello.” “I always thought this brotherly connection you and I were supposed to have would eventually form.”
I narrowed my eyes, staring ahead at nothing as I listened.
“I thought, maybe when I grew up, we’d have more in common or we’d speak to each other in more than two word sentences,” he went on. “I used to try to blame it on you. You were cold and distant, and you never gave us a chance to be brothers.”
I gripped the phone in my hand, standing frozen. The voices of the players around me faded.
“But then you know what?” he asked, a sharp edge to his voice. “When I was about sixteen I realized something. It wasn’t your fault. I honestly hated you as much as you hated me. For the same…single…reason.”
I clenched my teeth, lifting my chin.
“Her.”
“Her?” I fished.
“You know who I’m talking about,” he stated. “She always had her eyes on you, wanting you.”