Both of us. Jesus Christ, he wants to drag me into this thing right alongside him.
“Who are these people?”
“Does it matter? They have money, they’re willing to pay for services, and they understand our situation.” His voice drops. “Your situation. With your father.”
This is the moment where I could let him pull me in, where I could pretend to go along with it while feeding information to Morrison. Play the role of the corrupt coach helping his corrupt goalie make dirty money.
It would be so easy. Tate trusts me. He thinks he’s saving me from my own financial problems while solving his performanceanxiety. Morrison gets his case, my father gets his care, and everyone wins.
Except for the part where Tate’s life gets destroyed.
Except for the part where he ends up like me…trapped, blackmailed, forced to choose between people he loves and his own survival.
“You have to listen to me,” I say.
“No, I already know what you’re going to say. It sounds too good to be true, right? That it’s probably illegal, and we could get in trouble.” He’s talking faster now, trying to convince both of us. “But we’re already in trouble. Your dad needs care you can’t afford. My career’s hanging by a thread. Sometimes you have to take risks, right?”
“That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Then what?” His forehead pinches, brows furrowed.
I look at him. Twenty-six years old, trying to hold on to a dream that’s slipping away. He’s a good kid from a good family who’s never had to make the kind of choices that leave permanent scars.
He has no idea what he’s walking into. He doesn’t know that the people offering him fifty thousand dollars per game have already researched his family, his routines, his weaknesses. He has no clue that once he signs that first contract, he’ll never be free of them or his decision.
My phone buzzes again with a text from Morrison.
Need an update on Barnes contact. Meeting set for tomorrow night. Everything in position.
He knows. And everything is in position. Including me.
There’s no version of this where Tate doesn’t get hurt. If he takes the syndicate deal, they’ll own him. If he doesn’t, and the FBI operation fails, they’ll retaliate. If the FBI operation succeeds, he becomes a witness in a federal case against people who kill fucking witnesses.
The only way to protect him is to make sure he never gets involved at all.
Which means telling him the truth about why I can’t let him do this.
All of it.
“Tate,” I say. “There’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
I think about my father, sitting in that facility, alone and lost. About Morrison’s threats and the anonymous texts and the impossible choice between the person I’ve fallen in love with and the person who raised me.
“The people you’re talking about…” I pause. “I know who they are.”
He leans toward me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve met them before. Years ago, in Detroit. And I know what they really want from you.”
“Zane, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you weren’t their first choice for this job.” I hold his gaze, and I can see the exact second he realizes I’m about to tell him something that will change everything. “You weren’t even their idea.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.” I stand up and grab my jacket from the back of my chair. “But not here. Too many fucking ears listening. “
