One is the ticket and the other tightens my stomach.Miss L, Report to my office at 8 tonight. Don’t make me come find you. -Professor
I have just enough time to shower.
Damp wind sweepsthe dead leaves across the sidewalk, and I’m in a low-cut sweater, short skirt, and thigh-high tights as I race across campus.A cold change is coming, and the swirling air is driving rain ahead of the front, but I’m not even wearing a coat.
My body is flushed with the heat of anticipation, lust, and need. I move like a woman obsessed, my vision focused on the tall building ahead and all the dirty, wicked, forbidden delights waiting for me inside it.
I shouldn’t do this. It’ll only complicate things, but I’m an addict. Rational thinking has left my mind, and my body demands my drug, his strong arms, his full mouth, his rigid cock.
Lights are scattered along my route, but small patches of darkness remain under trees and near bushes. I’m oblivious to all of it. The campus is deserted, and I have no fear of being caught flying to him, no need to sneak.
I’m across the central lawn when I notice a dark shadow moving near a tree a few paces ahead of me. The hair on my arms prickles, and I have a flashback of the hay maze when student actors lurked in the dark corners waiting to rush out and scare us.
Only those were actors with rules and limits, and I’m alone on an empty college campus in the middle of the night.
Slowing my pace, I fall back on my self-defense training. I know the best defense is avoiding danger, and I shouldn’t race up on a lurker hiding in the bushes. It could be nothing, or it could be someone with bad intentions. Still, I’m not about to turn around with satisfaction so close to my grasp.
I’m breathing fast, walking slowly, when an involuntary shiver moves through my limbs. I have to pass that tree in order to enter the building. Squaring my shoulders, I decide to go for it, holding my head high and walking fast, purposefully to the door that will lead me to him.
I don’t get five paces when the figure steps out in front of me, directly in my path. Blackness shrouds his features, but even obscured, I know who he is. His long hair is pulled back, and I manage to get out a short scream before the cloth is over my mouth and nose, and the world goes dark.
When I openmy eyes again, I’m alone in a small room with a desk and chair facing bookshelves. My head hurts, and my vision is foggy. My mouth is dry and tastes like a penny. Silence surrounds me.
It takes several seconds of blinking to make out this place. A narrow, black filing cabinet stands beside the desk and bookshelves. The opposite wall is covered with maps and pictures and letters. It reminds me of something out of a crime movie where clues are arranged on top of notes, and everything is tied together with yarn wrapped around thumbtacks.
Shaking my head, I try to stand, but only rise an inch before being jerked back down by my wrists. I’m handcuffed to the chair, and I have no idea where I am.
The last thing I remember is…
The doorknob rattles, and a key is inserted. A click, and the wooden door opens inward, revealing Scar Lourde standing in the doorway, scowling. I’m not afraid of him, although I suppose I ought to be. It’s hard to be afraid of anything with the pounding in my temples.
“Did you drug me?” My voice is sandpaper.
He lifts his chin, walking in and going to the desk, where he crosses his arms, studying me. Fine, he doesn’t have to answer. Seconds pass, and he doesn’t speak. His wolf eyes narrow, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to decide what to say or if he’s waiting for me to confess.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Somewhere no one knows to look.” His voice is rough and smokey, and I remember.Scar’s secret room…
He places a hand on the desk beside him, lifting the ledger I stole and holding it in the air. “What do you want with this?”
My eyes narrow, and I purse my lips. Now it’s my turn for silence, primarily because I’m not sure the safest answer. Also, because I’m not a snitch. Not that I’m loyal to Natasha. I’m simply not sure I’ll get what I want by cooperating with this guy.
He slaps it down on the desk again, rising to his full height. “You lied to my partner. You spent six weeks running a con. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what I think. I know who you are, Rainey Sidorova.”
Nodding, my eyes fall to the floor. Guilt by association. No matter what I say, I’m the enemy, so I might as well show my cards. I’m not getting out of this chair without his help.
“You think you know me, but you don’t. I’m not part of their criminal organization. I was brought into it as a child, against my will, just like you were, and I want to get out like you did.”
“I wasn’t brought into it against my will.” His tone is sharp. “I joined Simon because I lost everything. Then I learned who they were and what they did, and I walked away. But I was never free until he died. Now you’re here. Why? Are you trying to drag me back?”
His eyes are deadly serious, and I know his story. The last time I saw him, I was hiding in Gibson’s, trying to fade into the curtains, and he was making a deal with the devil.
“I’m trying to find the people who killed my father. They took everything from me, and I want to bring them down. If you would be willing to come back, I could use your help.”