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“There’s something going on with the games. You said… hypothetically, of course, that you’re being told how many goals to score?”
I cross my arms. “I didn’t mean to tell you that, Church. These guys are serious. They already attacked my wife once, and fuck if I’ll give them an excuse to come after her again.”
I’m somewhat regretting opening my mouth. Jacob warned me about this. Telling people. What if Church is in on it?
“They’re rigging the whole game,” he says.
“Probably.”
“How?”
I shrug. “No clue.”
He eyes me. “It’s not just you, then. There’s someone else.”
I consider that. The idea that Luke Abernathy got to another player. He might not be threatening them like he is us—he could just be paying them. Bribery works just as well as threats. Maybe more so if it’s a high enough payout.
“Who would do that?” I shake my head. “A d-man letting the other team through? Someone just underperforming?”
Church makes a face. “I don’t know. But we need to figure it out. Who’s in charge of the operation?”
“Oh, um…” I hesitate. “I’m not going to tell you that.”
Besides, ithasto be bigger than just the owner’s son. It has to be more widespread than just the Titans. Especially since he doesn’t contact Aurora all the time, for every game. It’s sporadic. And that’s either to try and not draw attention, or…
“We’re not going to make the playoffs at this rate,” Church says quietly. “If you keep sabotaging us?—”
“I’m not,” I snap. “I was told to score twice?—”
“And you got a hat trick.”
“Well, the third was an accident,” I hedge.
“They ran all over us,” Church argues. “How?”
The door opens, knocking Church aside. Jacob slips inside and flips the lock, scowling at his captain.
“If you’re going to hold a secret meeting, for fuck’s’ sake, lock the door.”
Church sighs.
“What about the assistant coach?” I straighten. “He was talking to?—”
Jacob shoots me a look.
“Someone,” I finish lamely.
Church’s gaze bounces back and forth between Jacob and me. “Fine,” he finally says. “You don’t trust me. That’s fine. Just figure out who’s sabotaging us under orders, and loop me in.”
“Yes, boss,” Jacob says. A bit sarcastically. He even salutes.
Camden Church frowns and leaves us alone in the office, the door closing softly behind him.
“Well?” I question. “I mean, I didn’t expect him to believe me…”
“We don’t know who to trust,” Jacob points out. “You can’t just tell people. What if he’s working with Abernathy?”
“Then we’re fucked.”
