“What’d you tell Rat?” I take a bite of my burger, my eyes never leaving his.
He shoves more fries in his mouth. “I persuaded him to our plan. We pick her up the night before.”
“He go for it?”
“He finally came around.”
“Thank fuck.” I take a sip of my drink.
He grins. “I can be persuasive.”
“Somebody’s gotta talk some sense into him. Glad you were able to do it.”
Rusty shrugs. “He’s reckless sometimes, but he couldn’t argue this one.”
I shove the uneaten half of my burger in the bag, no longer hungry. I push off my knees and move to the window.
“What’s bothering you?” Rusty asks behind me. “We got a solid plan. Quit worrying.”
I rest a hand on the wall and peer around the curtain, my thumb tapping against the dingy paint.
“Reno?” he calls behind me.
I turn back. I might as well tell him. “I did something fucking stupid tonight.”
Rusty crumples his wrapper in a fist and tosses it on the nightstand. He sucks down the remainder of his cola and sets the cup aside. “Yeah? What was that?”
His tone may be casual, but his hawk eyes drill into me. “I went over to her apartment. Just to scope it out. Get a closer look.”
“And? What happened? Someone see you?”
“I followed her.”
His brows slash down. “Followed her? Where?”
“She met some friends at a bar and grill. Place called Pete’s.”
Rusty draws in a long breath and huffs it out. His voice is low and harsh when he asks, “What’d you do?”
“I followed her inside.”
“Yeah? And? Don’t fucking make me drag this story out of you one sentence at a time. Get to the fucking point, bro.”
“I sat at the bar. She came over, and we talked.”
His head drops, eyes drilling into mine. “You fucking what?”
“We talked. Then we danced, then we made out.”
He surges to his feet and begins pacing. I stand there, half ready for him to charge and shove me through the damn window. He comes close to doing just that when he turns and grabs two fistfuls of my shirt, slamming me against the wall.
“You fucking idiot!” he roars. “Now she’s seen you.”
I shove him off me. “She was gonna see me anyway.”
“Not if we wore ski masks.”
I huff out a laugh. “Right. You think I’m wearing a ski mask for two fucking days, you’re delusional. Besides, you really think Rat’s gonna let her live to tell about this? That ain’t gonna be the order that comes down, and you fuckin’ know it, brother!”
Rusty runs a hand through his hair and paces away. “Well, you just made sure of it, dumbass.”
“Don’t fuckin’ call me that,” I snap.
He whirls back on me. “Then don’t fuckin’ act like one.”
“I screwed up, okay.”
“Yeah, on a major fucking scale, Reno.” He jabs a finger at me. “Stay the fuck away from her until we make our move.”
I clench my teeth, not sure I can.
Rusty paces, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He stops, his hands going to his hips, his eyes on the floor, and I can see the wheels turning. “Maybe we can use it.”
“Use what?” I frown.
“You getting close to her.” He moves toward me and pauses at the window, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“Maybe instead of taking her the way we’d planned, you set a meet with her.”
I don’t like it one bit, not that it’s gonna matter. One way or another, she’s gonna find out what an asshole I am.
He cocks his head at me. “You call her, will she come?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, man. She may be havin’ second thoughts about havin’ anything to do with me by now.”
He straightens. “Why’s that?”
I fold my arms and peek out the inch of space between the curtains.
“What’d you do, Reno?”
I run my hand over my mouth. “We, uh, fucked in the supply closet of the bar.”
He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You stupid motherfucker.” Then he punches the wall and roars, “You left your DNA in her too, I suppose?”
“Get real. I’m not a fool.”
“You sure about that?”
“If you’d gotten close to her, you’d want to fuck her, too.”
He huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Probably. Doesn’t mean I would. Least not before we take her.”
“What difference does it make? Before, after… It’s all the same.”
“No, it’s fucking not, Reno. A bar full of people saw you with her.”
“Not her friends.”
“You don’t know who in that place knows her. Anybody coulda seen you together.”
“No one’s gonna connect us.”
“You better pray you’re right.”
“It’s my neck on the line. And we both know it’s my finger gonna be on the trigger when that order comes down.”
“You gonna have a problem with that?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
He huffs out a breath and stares out at the parking lot. “Whatever happens, brother, I’m in this with you, up to my goddamn neck.”
I wish I could believe that, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m the one gonna be left holding the bag on this one. And I seriously have my doubts about finishing this job, least not in the way the club’s gonna expect.
A couple hours later, Rusty’s snoring in the other bed, sleepin’ like a fuckin’ baby. Not me. I’m wide awake and staring at the ceiling, reliving every moment of my time with Kara. The smell of her perfume, the taste of her lips, the feel of her pussy wrapped around my dick and takin’ me like she’s made for me…
I dig the burner phone out of my hip pocket and pull up her picture. Those firm young breasts on display so pretty. I remember the feel of them in my hands. My gaze shifts up to her smolderingly sexy eyes. I get the feeling she’s mature beyond her years, but there’s still a trusting innocence in those dark depths—a trust I’m sure to destroy in a matter of days, and that’s something I know I’m gonna regret for the rest of my life. Hell, Rusty and I get caught doin’ this job—and there’s a damn good chance of that happening—I won’t have long to regret much of anything.
CHAPTER NINE
Kara—
I’ve come to dread Saturday nights. We’re always expected to attend one social or another. I joined this sorority, because I promised my father I would.
I glance around the frat house from my spot on a couch. Our brothers are hosting us for a Saturday night social. It’s mandatory for all new pledges to attend. These things always seem to have a theme, and tonight’s is Golf Pros & Tennis Hoes. They think they’re hilarious. The frat guys are all in golf attire, and we sorority girls are dressed in these skimpy tennis outfits. We try to have fun with it, but I find it degrading.
There’s a lot of drinking going on, and people are making out all over the place. The guys look nice, but looks can be deceiving I’ve learned, because I don’t think any of them respect us, or women in general. They all just think we’re their personal ass, up for the taking. A few of my sisters think they’ll find their future husband here, but I haven’t met one I’d want to spend my life with.
They’re all pretty self-centered.
As I watch them, I can’t help comparing them in every way to Dante, and they all come up short—way short, and I’m not just talking height-wise.
I take a sip of my drink and stare down at it, smiling at the thought of Dante, of that night talking at the bar, and of the time alone with him in that closet.
I’ve done nothing but think of him since that night—the way he smiled, the way he seemed truly interested in talking, the way he kissed, and oh God, the way he took cont
rol of my body and gave me the best orgasm of my life.
A shadow falls over me, and I glance up. It’s Brett Cavendish, Elizabeth’s older brother. He’s attractive in a preppy sort of way, which I guess suits him since he’s studying pre-law. He has aspirations of following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a trial lawyer. I think he’s only interested in me because my father is a judge.
“Hi Brett,” I say, pasting on a smile. I’m supposed to be enjoying myself, and I don’t want to embarrass my sorority sisters.
He squats in front of me, grinning. “You looked a million miles away, girl. Don’t you like the party?”
I glance around. Loud rap music is playing, and I’m starting to get a headache. “Sure. It’s great,” I lie.
“Want another drink?” He peers in my half-full red plastic cup.
I rub my temple. “Actually, do you have any aspirin?”
“Headache?”
I nod.
“You really don’t want to be here, do you?”
I give him a half smile. “That obvious?”
“Come on.” He stands and extends his hand. “I’ll walk you home.”
I glance at his hand, hesitating. I glance over at some of my sorority sisters. They all seem to be enjoying themselves, and none of them look like they’re ready to leave.
“I can walk myself. It’s not far.”
“Not a chance. I want to make sure you get home safe.”
I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet and leads me through the crowd. We pass Elizabeth, and I shout in her ear that Brett’s walking me home. She peers over my shoulder and then hugs me, saying, “Text me when you get home.”
I nod in agreement, and we move to the door.
It’s cool outside, and the stupid outfit I’m wearing has me freezing. I’m in this short pleated white skirt and sleeveless top. To really finish off this ridiculous outfit, we all wore heels with knee high socks. Thank God for the socks.
I walk as quickly as I can.
We reach my apartment building, and I stop on the cement step, turning to Brett. “Well, goodnight. Thank you for walking me home.”
He smiles and backs me against the doorframe, his hand on the wood next to my head. His eyes drop to my chest. “You look cute as hell.”
I bite my lip and turn my head to the door, looking through the glass and wishing one of the other tenants would come out and interrupt us, anything to make him step back. But no such luck. “Thanks,” I murmur. “I really should get some aspirin now.”
He doesn’t take the hint. Instead he dips his head and kisses me. I let him have a kiss—after all, he did walk me home—but I really don’t want to encourage him. Besides, after Dante’s kisses, none of these frat boys are ever going to live up to them.
Reno—
I sit in a car parked down the street from Kara’s place. Yeah, I’m that addicted, sitting here hoping for a glimpse of her like a fucking pathetic jerk. Rusty’s busy setting up some things for tomorrow.
I’m contemplating getting closer and looking in the window when I see a couple coming up the street. Studying the woman’s shape, I frown. She’s got Kara’s height and figure. I see her hair swing around her shoulders. The way she moves, those hips swaying, I know it’s her in an instant. The guy she’s with is barely a few inches taller than her. The fact that they’re dressed in costumes throws me. I watch them stroll up the walk to her building. She stops and turns back to him at the door. Good girl. Don’t let him in, babe.
She’s smiling up at him, they’re talking, then he backs her to the doorframe, and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. I want to charge over there, rip him away, and drive my fist into his fucking face.
He lifts a hand, toying with her necklace, and I reach for the door handle, ready to throw it open if she slaps his hand away. She doesn’t, and my jaw clenches.
He leans in and kisses her. She doesn’t push him away. I’m too far to see if she’s enjoying it, but my blood is boiling. In my head I’ve already claimed her, and watching her with this preppy kid who’s dressed like some golf pro is suddenly like watching Patty walk off with the quarterback. I want to rip his throat out.
It pisses me off that she’s apparently replaced me so quickly. I thought we had a connection. Yeah, I’m a stupid fool for thinking there could be anything more between us, knowing where this is headed, but logic doesn’t enter into my brain—not where she’s concerned.
I can’t pull my eyes from the two of them. What the hell is she wearing such a short skirt for? The heels and knee high stockings reminds me of something out of an old ZZ Top music video. Its sexy as hell, but I’m pissed she’s wearing it for this loser.
She turns and unlocks the door, and he follows her in. I punch the dashboard and flex my fist as pain explodes through my knuckles. I breathe deeply to get control of myself before I charge in there. I need to get the hell out of here before I do something stupid.
I throw the car in gear and hit the gas, tires squealing. Driving down the street, I run my hand over my face, wondering if he’ll be the one getting a naked picture of her tonight.
I shoulda known better than to think I’d ever find a girl who wasn’t a fucking cheating bitch, one who thought I was something special, one who didn’t think the only thing special about me was the patch on my fucking back.
CHAPTER TEN
Kara—
I drag myself upright in my bed at almost noon. My face feels swollen from all the crying I did last night. I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I’ve got a bruise on the side of my face that I hope makeup will cover. I reach up to touch the slight swelling and notice the bruising around my wrist, and everything flashes back through my mind, and Brett’s once again got me pinned to my apartment door, snarling down into my face that I’m a fucking tease.
When I’d left him at the entry to the building, I had no idea he’d push inside and follow me. I knew right away I was in trouble when he crowded me against my apartment door.
I pushed him away, but he shoved me so hard my head bounced off the wood. When I reached up to touch my head, he grabbed my wrist and pinned me. I can still feel his hands on my breasts when he pulled my shirt and bra up, exposing them. I kicked and fought, but that only spurred him on. I tried to scream, and he slammed his hand over my mouth. When I bit him, he hauled back and slapped me.
He tried to grab my keys from me, and that’s when I really panicked. I knew if he got me inside, I’d be beyond any help.
I fought, but he was stronger than me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to fend him off for long. I don’t know what would have happened if my neighbor across the hall hadn’t come home and interrupted him. I was never so happy to see someone in my life.
Eddy juggled a pizza box in his hands as he entered the glass door and immediately realized I was in trouble. He dropped the box and yanked Brett off me, shoving him away. I quickly covered myself, jerking my shirt down, tears streaming down my face. Brett took off, darting out the door.
I nearly slid down the wood to the floor, and I would have if Eddy hadn’t caught me. He helped me inside and asked if I wanted to go to the police or the hospital.
He was sweet and caring, and I was so embarrassed. I insisted I was fine. Brett is Elizabeth’s brother, and I knew it would be a big scene if I reported him. I know it’s cowardly, but I just couldn’t face the police. I was mortified that I’d been attacked and felt stupid for trusting him.
Now I stand before the bathroom mirror and splash water on my face. I take a couple of aspirin and return to bed. Curling into a fetal position, I stare into space. Eventually my eyes focus in on my cell phone. I grab it and text Dante. I don’t want to think about why I feel he’ll give me the strength to get through this day. Somehow, he’s wormed his way into my brain, and I can’t get him out. We had a connection. I felt it, and I’m pretty sure he did, too. Maybe I don’t want to admit to myself just how far I’ve fallen for the man in such a short time, but deep down,
it’s there. I text him and ask if we can talk. I need to hear his voice, but I’m afraid to call him. A text feels safer. I’m not ready for the rejection if he tries to blow me off in a phone call. If he sounds excited to hear from me, then I’ll call him. I’m chicken that way.
I set the phone down next to my pillow and stare at it, waiting for a response. I wait a long time, and it doesn’t come. I check my phone. It shows he’s read my text. Little dots appear that show he’s replying, and my heart soars, but then they disappear. I wait and wait, but he never responds. My eyes sting as they flood with unshed tears. I blink before they fall down my cheek. I blow out a breath and fold my arms, laying my head down. My eyes fall on my journal on the nightstand. I grab it and the rhinestone-covered pen with the lavender ink that I always use to write my thoughts. I grab my glasses and slip them on, then flip open the journal. I begin scribbling down everything. I need to purge the events of last night from my brain, and somehow writing it down helps. Before I know it, I’ve filled several pages.
When I finally stop writing, I close the pretty bound book and stare at the cover. It’s pink with hearts on it. I run my fingers over the words in the center in gold lettering. STRONG IS THE NEW PRETTY.
That’s what I need to be right now—strong.
Only I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel strong at all. I bite my lip. I know one thing; I don’t want to be here anymore. What happened has made me face some facts. I’m not happy in this sorority. It’s just not for me, and after what happened I can’t go back and pretend everything is fine. It’s not fine. I’m not fine.
I’m done. I want to go home, and I don’t care what that says about me. Call me a quitter, a coward, whatever. I know one thing—staying here and sticking it out won’t make a difference. I can admit I made a mistake in coming here. I wasn’t happy at school in Georgia, and it was foolish to think transferring to University of Alabama would somehow make it better. A change of schools was not the answer. I need to face the fact that this isn’t for me.
Dirty Deeds Page 6
