Page 37 of Sin Bin Bully

Sam

The phone's shrill ring cuts through the silence of my study. Joe's name flashes on the screen. I snatch it up, my jaw already clenching.

"What?" I bark.

Joe's voice crackles through the speaker. "Sam, we've got a situation. You need to get down to the team offices. Now."

"What the fuck for?"

"A steroid dealer just came forward. Says you bought from him."

The words hit me like a freight train. My vision blurs, rage boiling up from my gut. "That's bullshit!"

"I know, I know. But we gotta deal with this. I'm doing everything I can, but-"

I cut him off. "No, you listen to me. Someone's setting me up. I don't touch that shit. Ever."

"Sam, calm down-"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down!" I roar, hurling a nearby vase against the wall. It shatters, water and flowers explodingacross the hardwood. "My entire career is on the line because of some lying piece of shit!"

"That's why we need you here. To sort this out."

I'm pacing now, my free hand clenched so tight I can feel my nails biting into my palm. "I'll be there in ten. And Joe? You better have answers when I arrive."

I hang up, resisting the urge to smash the phone. Every muscle in my body is coiled, ready to spring. I want to hit something, someone. Destroy whatever's in my path.

Instead, I storm out of the study, slamming the door behind me. The sound echoes through the mansion, a physical manifestation of the fury coursing through my veins.

As I stalk down the hallway, I catch a glimpse of Kim peeking out from her room. For a moment, our eyes lock. The fear in hers only fuels my rage.

"Stay in your room," I snarl, not breaking stride.

I don't wait for a response. Right now, all I can focus on is getting to those offices and tearing apart whoever dared to accuse me of cheating.

Instead, I jump into my car and fly out of my driveway. I slam my foot on the accelerator, weaving through traffic like a man possessed. The engine of my Aston Martin roars, matching the fury pulsing through my veins. Red lights? Fuck 'em. I blow past, horns blaring in my wake.

The team offices loom ahead. I screech into the parking lot, leaving rubber on asphalt. As I storm through the lobby, people scatter. Smart move.

I'm about to round the corner to the conference room when I spot him. Matthew fucking Harley, leaning against the wall like he doesn't have a care in the world.

"Hey, Sam!" he calls out, grinning like we're old buddies. "Good to see you, man. Crazy stuff going on, huh?"

I freeze, my hands balling into fists. The audacity of this prick. After all the shit between us, he's acting like we're teammates of the year?

"The fuck you smiling about, Harley?" I snarl, closing the distance between us in two strides.

He holds up his hands, still wearing that shit-eating grin. "Whoa, easy there. Just being friendly."

"Friendly?" I laugh, the sound harsh and humorless. "Since when are we friends?"

Matthew shrugs, his eyes gleaming with something I can't quite place. "Team's gotta stick together, right? Especially with all this steroid nonsense floating around."

My vision goes red. Before I can stop myself, I've got him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. "You know something about that, Harley?"

He doesn't flinch, just keeps smiling. "Me? Nah, I'm clean as a whistle. Unlike some people, apparently."

I tighten my grip, ready to wipe that smug look off his face. But a hand on my shoulder pulls me back.