Page 59 of Filthy Ruck

“You're out of your mind.” Her chin was raised, but for the first time she looked uncertain.

“You clearly haven't had an ingrown toenail,” I said, wincing melodramatically. “They fucking hurt. You'd be doing the community an important service. You'd save so many people so much pain.” I wasn't even joking. I had one in high school and it sucked.

“That's not the kind of journalism I do, dear,” she said, condescension back in place. “I dig deep and uncover scandals like yours. People should know the players they look up to, players who are supposed to be role models, are eliciting the services of prostitutes. All three of them are bringing the team into disrepute by being in your company.”

“The company of a team doctor?” I shook my head. “How awful.”

Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong. The moment people found out what I used to do, I'd be condemned. The team would have no choice but to cut me loose. The guys might hold on to their contracts, but I'd be dragged all the way through the mud. I'd be the scapegoat in the story.

No doubt the Smashers’ PR department would spin it to make it look like the guys had no idea. By the time they were done, my reputation would be completely destroyed.

No way was I going to let that happen. I'd do whatever it took to stop it.

“I see you finally understand the situation you're in,” Belinda said gleefully. “Add in a bit of breaking and entering and pointing a gun at me. Is that even real? And you, dear, will be in a lot of trouble.”

“This is your last chance,” I said as pleasantly as I could. I was tempted to kill her for continuing to call me dear. It was beyond annoying. “Delete the article and walk away.”

She shook her head at me and turned back to the keyboard. “All I need to do is press enter, and it'll be uploaded for all the world to see.”

Her finger hovered over the enter button. She lowered the pad of her pointer finger to the plastic.

I raised the gun and pulled the trigger.