Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I rolled my eyes. “You tell me if it’s good. I overheard Cairo on the phone telling someone to gather everyone they know and bring them to Buller’s Den Saturday night. I asked what was going on and he said the Crows were going to pay for what they did to us. You’d be gone in a week.”
“Is that right?” His grin revealed all his teeth. “Saturday night. Buller’s Den. Another party to crash.”
“Is that a good idea?” I went through my script, though I was already picturing being home with Roan and Legend, tempting them into another threesome. “Did you see Dante’s poll numbers? The masses don’t buy that you’re innocent. Going after the guys with their hands down their wallets was one thing, but everyone likes Paris. She got all the sweetness that skipped her older brother.
“Going after her turned Bedlam against you. If you show up at a meeting to take you down, you may not walk out of there.”
Here’s hoping.
“Aw, you’re worried about me.” Jeremy cuffed my chin. “How sweet.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“It’s not me who needs a warning.”
Jeremy slid into the next lane. A U-turn would take us back to campus, and I hoped he was making it. I wanted away from this guy ten minutes ago.
“They’ll whip everyone up with stuff they can’t prove, then I’ll remind them of exactly what you said. They’re the ones stealing thousands from Bedlam. This fairy story about them funneling the money back into the town is garbage. Replacement parts for Creed’s car were expensive. Sharpe isn’t on scholarship and he’s not paying tuition on his dad’s salary.
“We’ll remind them how much the Bedlam Boys have to lose if the town splits and half their weekly profits go with it. They’ve got an incentive to stir shit up and blame it on the Crows.”
“Sounds like you got it all figured out. Pull over here,” I said.
“You did good this week.” Jeremy slowed the car as requested. “Keep it up and you’ll get back in my good graces.”
His hand crept up my thigh.
“Let me make this clear.” I picked his hand up with two fingers and dropped it on his lap. “This is a business relationship and nothing more. You’ve threatened and punched me one too many times. Run back to Quinn.”
He muttered something as I climbed out. I didn’t care what. The slam of the door meant I was done with him. I had more important things to deal with that day.
The library was the cool, pastry-scented paradise I remembered. Little study pockets scattered all over the space. Couches, desks, computers, and even ottomans to put your feet up. I got myself another panini and set up in a nook on the third floor. Food in reach and feet up, I opened my laptop to Scott Cavendish’s old social accounts. I clicked through his friends one by one, searching for faces that matched those in the photos.
Assuming these two thought of each other as friends, a voice sounded in my mind. The first letter I received after Cavendish’s death, his supposed friend didn’t seem too broken up about his fiery end.
That I couldn’t deny. It begged the question of if sociopaths were capable of forming real relationships.
I stopped on Craig Brown’s profile, matching him to one of the young, smiling faces in the photo.
The Letter Man thinks I’m his friend for all that he’s angry with me now. There’s no understanding what’s going on in his mind, but he still could’ve accepted a friend request.
“—over here.”
A couple of students from my bankruptcy class spotted me and tromped over, loaded with backpacks, textbooks, and laptops.
“Hey, Rainey. How are you doing?” Violet asked. She was short and thin, rocking hair the color of her name. “Tased, arrested, and jumped. Talk about a rough semester.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I said under my breath. “I’m doing okay. You guys studying for the midterm?”
“Yeah. Want to join us?”
“Sure, just give me a sec to finish this up.”
“Cool.”
Violet, Darryl, Hannah, and Luciano slid in around the table, leaving a spot between Darryl and Hannah for me.
Moving faster, I clicked through the profiles, scribbling the names of the guys I found.
Craig Brown. Oakley Jackson. Seth Harris. Kashton King.
None of these names were remotely close to Blake Jensen. It was my hope Cavendish used an alias, but even if he didn’t and none of these guys were him, I could still ask if there was a Blake or someone their old mentor was close to. These guys would all be college age now. Next, I’d find out if that college is Bedlam U.
“Done.” I picked up my stuff and parked it beside Hannah. She slid her book over to share with me.
“I don’t know why I signed myself up for his torture,” she said. “Everyone told me Professor Stein was a nice guy who was easy on grading and didn’t load you up with papers, but not even Chris Hemsworth teaching this bare-chested and oiled up could make this material interesting.”