Chapter 8 - The Ultimate GambleThe blood roared in my ears. Amanda. He had gotten to Amanda.
“You son of a bitch,” I snarled, taking a step toward Marcus.
“Ah-ah-ah,” Marcus clicked his tongue, tapping the screen of his phone. “One wrong move, and I text my other associate downstairs to let the service elevator drop to the sub-basement. Believe me, concrete floors at high speeds are not very forgiving.”
Rachel clutched the back of my sweatpants, her voice shaking. “Tyler... don't. He’ll kill us both once he gets the drive anyway.”
“She’s smarter than she looks,” Marcus smiled coldly. “True. Once I have the drive, there are no loose ends. But right now, you don't have a choice.”
My mind raced. As a professional athlete, I was trained to read defenses, to find the blind spot, to execute a play under extreme pressure when the clock was running out. Marcus was arrogant. He was looking at me like I was just muscle—a dumb jock with no tactical awareness.
He was focused entirely on me. He wasn't looking at Rachel’s handbag still sitting open on the ruined desk behind him.
“Okay,” I said loudly, holding my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “You win. The drive is right here. Just show me Amanda is safe. Let me talk to her.”
Marcus smirked, lowering his phone slightly as triumph washed over his face. “Smart boy. Put her on speaker,” he commanded into a tiny lapel microphone connected to his security earpiece.
For three agonizing seconds, nothing happened. Marcus frowned, tapping his ear. “Hello? Status report in the basement.”
That was my window.
While Marcus’s attention was diverted to his earpiece, Rachel didn't hesitate. She lunged across the debris, grabbed her designer handbag from the desk, pulled out the encrypted flash drive, and threw it across the room straight toward me.
I caught it out of the air with one hand.
Marcus snapped back, his face twisting into rage. “Grab him!” he screamed, lunging forward to tackle me.
Instead of dodging, I leaned straight into the hit, catching Marcus by the shoulders and using his own forward momentum to hurl him over my hip. He flew through the air and crashed headfirst into the shattered remains of the television console with a sickening crunch. He groaned, sliding down the wall into unconsciousness.
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At that exact moment, the hotel room door flew open wide.
Amanda stumbled into the room, gasping for air, followed by two hotel security guards and—to our absolute shock—local police officers with their tasers drawn.
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