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The air in my lungs tightens as though someone switched off my oxygen. “Match fixing? As in throwing games?”
The two of them nod.
“Jesus Christ.”
I pull the laptop closer to scan over the article. There is a list of instances of said match fixing as long as the desk.
Clark is linked to some of the most famous players in all sorts of sports. All of them are either accused of throwing games or suspected of it. The last case was two years ago, which involved an NFL player.
I stare back at Jericho and Knight in disbelief. Dragging in a breath, I try to clear my head and reason this out. “This makes no sense. Evan wants to be captain just as much as I do. At least that’s what I thought. It’s what he’s been gunning for all season.”
“But maybe there was more reason for that than you suspected,” Knight suggests.
“Yeah, I see that now.” I said it didn’t make sense, yet it does now.
I think back to when Evan first joined the team. I thought he wanted me gone because I was in the way of what he wanted. But he wanted me gone because I'm the only one on that team who could've stood in his way of achievingthisgoal.
Heath and Jake also said that when Evan played in Canada it was like he was playing for himself. While I thought that was him showing off, it was probably his way of trying to mess everyone up and throw them out of sync.
“We've won the Cup so many years in a row, people don't like it. I guess we were never supposed to make it to the playoffs." I say that more to myself than them. "Those men first made an appearance after the first game of the playoffs."
"I'm sure you're not supposed to reach the Cup finals, either." Jericho nods. "You need to tell Jakobe."
I glance at the computer screen and the other documents Jericho showed me earlier. I imagine myself telling Jakobe all of this and sharing this information with him. I know exactly what his reaction will be.
"He won't believe me." I bite down on my back teeth.
Jericho frowns. "But you have pictures of them together. That's strong enough to cause suspicion, isn't it?"
"No." I press my lips together briefly and think. "It's not enough. I need hardcore evidence. Jakobe won't believe me without it."
Jericho and Knight exchange glances, then Jericho turns back to face me.
"I'll come up with something,” he says. “I'll keep looking. If hardcore evidence exists I'll find it."
I feel some hope for hearing that. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
"In the meantime keep your eyes open, Luc. If you saw those men once, you'll probably see them again. And it might not be pretty. The more games you win the closer you'll get to the finals and the more dangerous everything will become. Everyone will be getting desperate by then. Especially Evan. Desperate people do desperate things."
“I know the feeling.” Right now I’m desperate.
I was desperate earlier as I watched Evan escort Autumn away.
I felt like a helpless asshole. I loathe that feeling more than anything in this world.
The next day at practice I'm so on edge I can't think straight. Autumn called me last night and told me what happened at lunch with Evan.
I held off giving her details, but I hated that these people got so close to her in broad daylight, and in a restaurant full of people. I told her to stop seeing Evan straight away and that we’d figure something out.
I grab my jersey and shrug into it, trying to focus. The worst thing before a game, or even a training session, is getting on the ice with shit on your mind that you can't control.
I grab my stick and just as I'm about to walk away a fist lands in the inside of my locker. I look up to find Evan standing next to me.
Like a ferocious animal I bare my teeth and square my shoulders, ready for combat. "You must have a death wish, Evan," I growl.
It's clear he must want me to kill him when he gets up in my face, but I notice his eyes are dilated, like someone on drugs. I've seen enough people who look like this to spot them a mile away.
I don't know which drug he’s on, but he's definitely on something to have this kind of bravado in front of me.
