Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70489 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Fortunately, no one was up when I got back to the frat house. Mitch was snoring with the covers over his head. I fell into bed and indulged in a few more hours’ sleep.
Mitch was gone when I woke up, but I ran into him in the dining room
“Where were you last night?” he asked. “Clyde and I were going to see if you want to go to Bourbon Street.”
“I was on a date.”
“Oh, so she let you stay over?”
“I spent the night.” I decided to avoid gendered pronouns.
He grinned. “Was it good?”
“Yeah.” No need to lie about that.
“Onetime thing or…”
“Not sure yet. We’ll see.” Fortunately, Mitch was sleepy and hungry, and he didn’t ask me any more questions.
I went through the motions of the day without comprehending much of what was going on. I managed to answer a few questions in my classes and not make a fool of myself, but I spent my lunch break staring into space, not even remembering to eat my sandwich until I was nearly late for a class. I texted Dante a few times. He texted me back eventually, but not as fast as I’d like. I knew he wasn’t likely to invite me over again a second night in a row, no matter how much I would rather be at his house than at the stupid frat.
Hours passed without him answering my last text. I didn’t like it, even though he could be busy with any of a number of things. I still didn’t know a lot about how involved he was with his extended family. I wanted to ask but hadn’t had the nerve. As much as I wanted to know all about him, I knew there were parts of his life that were none of my business.
You shouldn’t be involved with him at all.
But I was. And I wanted him to text me now. I didn’t want to wait. Why the fuck was I so clingy? I’d never needed anyone the way I needed him. My dates were usually the ones chasing my attention.
After dinner, I got in my car and headed toward his house. I knew better, but I couldn’t help myself. I was just going to drive by and see if he was home. That was all. I wouldn’t stop. I wouldn’t do anything else. Fuck, I was a mess.
I was a block down the street when I saw Dante come out of his house. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and black cargo pants. He looked like he was part of a SWAT team.
He opened the trunk of his car, looked at the contents, then shut it, ran around, and hopped in the driver’s seat. I pulled over and parked. Did he know what kind of car I drove? Would he see me? What would he do if he did?
I watched as he backed out of the driveway and started down the street, then I followed him. I wanted—needed—to know where he was going.
How likely was it that he’d realize he was being followed? Was he trained to watch for that? I guess I’d find out if he was just a professor who had chosen to wear an all-black outfit or a man working with a New Orleans crime lord.
The city was full of fucking Theriots. The rumors that he was related to Remington Theriot could all be false, but then what about how he’d sent someone to threaten Randall and all the talk about me not knowing who he really was? I shivered as I continued to follow him.
As we moved through the city, and I had a hard time keeping up with him. It wasn’t like I had much practice following people, except when the stakes were low, and I could always use GPS instead.
We headed out toward Metairie. I was driving through a rough neighborhood, one my aunt and uncle would never dare set foot in. Suddenly, a car pulled out in front of me. I swerved to the side to avoid hitting them, and they stayed there, blocking my path.
I looked around. This wasn’t a good place to be stopped.
The driver opened the door of his truck and jumped down.
I started to reverse, but he pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. I could see the glint of it in my headlight beams. I didn’t see anyone else. Dante’s car was long gone.
What the fuck was I going to do? I didn’t have a weapon. Oh my God. Was I going to die because I’d been too fucking curious, because I’d turned into a stalker? No one even knew where I was.
The man motioned for me to open my door. Would he shoot me if I didn’t? I rolled the window down a crack. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. Please, just let me go.”