No. No I don’t.
My heart pounds. I lean back against the support of the wall behind me, sure I’m on the verge of passing out. Something outside catches my eye. I look up and see headlights as a car slows to a stop outside my house.
Jake. He cannot see Murray here. God, nobody can know he was here.
“I’ll do whatever you want me to; just leave. Please.”
Murray’s eyes gleam as he smiles at me. “Your boyfriend’s here.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, gritting my teeth.
“Good,” Murray chuckles. He steps forward and touches my face. “Then you will have no problem helping me bring him down.”
“Bring him down?” I repeat. I laugh, and his eyes narrow. “What makes you think I’m going to agree to that? Are you that threatened by him being a better player than you?”
“His abilities—or lack of, should I say—have nothing to do with anything,” he says through gritted teeth. “And you will help me, and you know exactly why I know you’re going to help me.”
I swallow, panic rising in me as Jake begins the short walk up the driveway.
He’s right. I will help him.
Because this getting out is just not a risk I’m willing to take.
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The Playbook Page 9
