Page 87 of Risky Match
“Noah,” I say through clenched teeth. “It’s you who can’t be trusted.”
“I’m very loyal. You’re the one who infiltrated my business and have wreaked havoc. It’s your fault that Blake won’t be around to continue his successful career.”
“What are you talking about? What have you done to Blake?”
“Nothing yet, but neither of you will be playing again. You’ll disappear without a trace. Rumors will abound that two lovesick players eloped to an undisclosed paradise never to be seen again.”
“No one will believe that.”
“I don’t care as long as it gives me enough time to clean up this mess.”
“I assume you’re referring to retrieving the racquets with the coins in the handles and giving them to David, the CEO of ProLuxe.”
“You are quite clever aren’t you.”
“How did you talk Blake into going along with your plan?” I ask.
“Maybe you aren’t as smart as I thought. Blake has no clue what’s going on. He’s merely a convenient courier. We hide the coins in his racquets. He carries the racquets across borders. Then he hands them off as gifts to the sponsors. And we don’t even have to give him a cut of the proceeds. It was perfect until you came along and started interfering.”
That’s a relief. Blake’s innocent. My instincts were right. If I can get out of this alive, maybe there is hope for us.
First things first though. I need to keep Noah talking, so I ask, “What about Marco and Thomas?”
“Thomas is a pain in the arse. He’s almost as much trouble as you with all his questions to Marco about his recent lifestyle improvements. Marco’s going to dump him as a doubles partner, so Thomas won’t cause any more problems.”
“I gather you have to give Marco a cut.”
“Unfortunately, we do. You won’t live long enough for my answers to matter, but that’s enough questions. I’m out of patience.”
“Indulge me in one more question. Why did you poison Blake?”
“I said no more questions. Now shut the fuck up.”
Apparently, that’s all I’m going to learn, but it’s enough.
Unless something changes quickly, my life will end shortly.
I moan, leaning forward in my chair, writhing from side to side. “I’m going to be sick.”
Footsteps walk past, toward the door behind me. “Just don’t get it on me,” Noah says with disdain.
He’s such a jerk. I groan and continue moving, visibly in pain.
Speaking to the guard, Noah says, “She’s not going to be a problem now. Go check on Blake. He’ll put up more of a fight. I’ll be there as soon as I confirm David received the coins and we’ve silenced the problem princess.”
Using my teeth, I nick the duct tape on my wrists. I jerk my arms upward, freeing my hands. My loud groaning successfully masks the tape ripping.
Doubling over in apparent pain, I yank upward on leg zippers at the bottom of my sweatpants, cutting through the tape binding my ankles to the chair.
I slowly raise a corner of the blindfold. Noah’s by the door with his back to me.
Perfect.
I toss the eye covering aside and yank off the mouth tape, causing intense pain. My groans are real now. I cover my mouth, hoping he won’t notice the difference.
In one swift move, I jump to my feet, pick up the chair, and slam it into the back of Noah’s head. The wood makes a satisfying crack. Unfortunately, it doesn’t knock him out.
He lunges at me. I duck, evading his hands and land a solid kick to his groin.
