Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 129432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129432 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
There’s only a few cars scattered in the lot, the Porsche on one end and the GTO on the other. The surrounding darkness cools the air, chilling my skin beneath the light sweater. The scarce lighting doesn’t help my search for the keys. I root around the text books in my bag, head lowered, cursing under my breath.
Found them. I punch the unlock button and wince at the loud chirp.
When I look up, I come face to face with the last person I expected to see.
Six feet away and leaning against the Porsche, my brother gives me a no-good smile. “Where’ve you been, Ivory?”
My muscles freeze up. How does he know that’s my car? Has he been following me? Does he know where I live? Who I’m living with?
I fidget with the key fob. No use hiding it. I already made the damn car light up. “It took you two months to come looking for me? Wow, Shane. I guess I should feel special you noticed me missing at all.”
He straightens and plucks a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. His buzzed blond hairline recedes from his broad pale forehead, his cheeks sunken beneath dark eyes. He looks as tired as I feel. And thinner. His jeans and flannel shirt hang on his tall, gaunt frame.
What the hell happened to him? Does this have anything to do with Lorenzo’s arrest? My chest tightens.
“Nice ride.” He lights the smoke and glides a hand over the white hood. “How’d you score it? Turning tricks?”
My trembling fingers curl around the strap of my satchel. Emeric will be right behind me, and Shane will recognize him from the night he broke Shane’s nose. If I run back inside, maybe I can circumvent him.
I pivot in the direction of Crescent Hall. Too late. Emeric’s halfway across the lot, his long strides eating up the pavement and heading right toward me. I can’t see his face from this distance, but I know exactly what I’d find in his eyes. The hairs lift on my arms.
How can I warn him that the shadowy line behind me is my brother? Anything I do will make Shane suspicious. He’s blocking my path to the car, but I could walk in the opposite direction, head down the road or something. Emeric would chase me down.
Shane would, too. He came here for a reason, and he’s not going to leave until he gets it.
There’s nothing I can do to stop this impending confrontation.
I spin back to Shane, my stomach rolling. “What do you want?”
He exhales a stream of smoke. “Mom’s gone.”
“So? She’s always—”
“No, she packed up her shit a month ago and fucking dis…” His eyes shift over my shoulder, tapering into slits. His mouth drops open in disbelief. “I fucking know that guy.”
Shit. My pulse leaps to my throat. Why couldn’t Emeric just let me handle this?
“Is there a problem here?” His chilling voice is right behind me, tingling up my spine.
Emeric steps in front of me, hands clasped behind his rigid back, his expensive suit pervading the air with authority.
Shane might’ve lost weight, but his frame is wider and taller than Emeric’s. If this turns into a physical throw down, Emeric might never be able to play piano again.
I move to Emeric’s side. He shifts with me, as if to block me again, then stops, planting his feet in a wide stance. He knows as well as I do the importance of maintaining a neutral demeanor in front of my brother. He’s here to investigate a trespasser, not to protect his girlfriend.
Shane takes him in from head to toe, flicking his ashes into the six-foot distance between them. “You work at Ivory’s school? Like a teacher or something?”
Emeric cocks his head, eyes on Shane. “Miss Westbrook, is this man bothering you?”
I need to choose my words carefully. The intensity in the way Shane’s gaze darts between Emeric and me tells me he’s trying to figure out why a teacher at my uppity school walked into a bar and punched him four months ago.
I gaze up at the stone-hard angles of Emeric’s profile and return to Shane. “This is my brother, and he was just leaving.”
Shane smirks. “Need some answers, little sis. Like, I don’t know… Who are you living with? And why did this frat boy”—he waves the cigarette at Emeric—“break my fucking nose?”
With his attention bolted on Shane, Emeric doesn’t move, not a twitch. His silence is somewhat shocking, but there’s a purpose to everything he does. A spoken word reveals things. Muteness gives less away. But Shane’s not going to let this go, so I open my mouth.
“I’m staying with a friend from school.” I arrange my lips into a display of wonderment. “She has this huge house and has all these spare cars.” I gesture at the Porsche. “Can you blame me for moving out of our dump to live in a mansion? A mansion, Shane. For real.”