End Game by G. A. Mazurke EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: G. A. Mazurke
- Language: English
- Genre: Sports Romance
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- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
LIAM
Goodbye My Lover – James Blunt
I NEVER THOUGHT I’d die before I hit the big three-oh.
I really didn’t.
I’m rich, I’m successful, and I’m healthy.
Moreover, I’m a hockey player.
A good one.
Hell, some might even say a great one.
I didn’t think I’d die in a godawful basement that stinks of piss and shit.
I didn’t think I’d die of sepsis.
I didn’t think—
God, that’s just it.
I didn’t think.
If I had, I wouldn’t be here because I was snatched from some nightclub.
I would have gone to a skate park and done some tricks before I got taken—
fuck my contract. In fact, no. Screw skate-boarding. I’d just have called
Gracie.
The kid next to me, a fellow hostage, whimpers in his sleep.
Who can blame him?
These assholes not only took a child, but we’ve been here for too long.
We haven’t seen our kidnappers’ faces, so the situation isn’t that dire yet,
but the fact we’re still here has my anxiety spiking.
Something has to be wrong.
My absence must have hit the news.
I mean, I’ve already missed a couple games by this point. Though the
Mounties are a solid team without me, there’s no way the press hasn’t
realized that the captain has gone missing.
I live in Montréal—we jack off to hockey there.
My fellow Quebeckers somehow worked out I visit my favorite coffee
shop on Tuesdays, but they don’t recognize my absence on the ice?
I don’t buy it.
Digging my fingers into my eyes, I try to understand why my ransom
hasn’t been paid.
Even if the Mounties couldn’t shell out because of years of
mismanagement, my personal accounts would—
“Shit,” I whisper.
Now that Mom’s gone, no one aside from me has access to my money.
I went a little crazy and built up my own trust fund so that my father
couldn’t get his hands on my assets. The markets haven’t been as stable
either, so whatever they’re asking, I might not even be able to cover—
I scrape a hand over my head, ignoring the blunt, throbbing pain from my
injuries.
“Why did you have to buy that new house?” I ask myself.
And why didn’t I just mortgage it like everyone advised?
Paranoid… that’s me. Especially when it comes to my father.
Padraig has a habit of sniffing around when he’s run out of cash, which is
always.
It’s like water to him, and it easily slips through his fingers.
How ironic that being tight-fisted with him will bite me in the ass in the
short run because I don’t have the funds to cover my ransom.
The Bukowskis and my billet brothers might be able to pitch in, but that
I’m still in Lucifer’s idea of a vacation hotspot doesn’t give me much hope.
“I’m going to die here,” I rasp, closing my eyes to quell the stinging from
pointless tears.
Maybe that belief is why I see her.
Not my whole billet family who took me in and made me one of their
own. Who sheltered me from the age of sixteen and who, after Mom died,
drew me deeper into the fold.
No, I just see Gracie.
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