The Playbook

“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.