by Rebel Hart
As he came to close to me, I caught a whiff of his cologne. Or his aftershave.
Whatever it was, it had my head spinning.
I felt my grip weakening around my drink. My knees trembled as he stood in front of me. My eyes slowly slid up to his, drinking him in as he looked down at me. There was indifference in his eyes. Worry in his brow. And confusion in the turned-up corners of his lips. He was easy to read. At least, up close he was.
He bent toward my ear, gracing my skin with the heat of his breath.
“Liar,” he growled.
I flinched at the sound before another chuckle fell from his lips. Then he stepped around me, pushing me against the doorway as he walked past. I let out the breath I had been holding. I watched as the man with the beanie and the red hair walked by me. His eyes fell down my body, as if he were studying me. And not too far behind was the lanky guy who didn’t understand personal space.
“You’re a terrible spy,” he said, almost giggling.
“Benji. Shut up.”
I nodded. “Benji.”
He winked. “Danika.”
I grimaced at him as he slipped beside me, his hand running along my thigh. I jumped at his touch, and not in a good way. And as the three of them walked down the hallway, I whipped around to take them in. Benji was much shorter than the other two. Younger, as well. They all lumbered down the hallway with rolled-back shoulders and leather jackets. Probably thought they looked cool, too.
Idiots.
“Girls,” the leader said.
How in the world did I still not know his name?
The giggling of girls came from the other hallway before they dashed out. Two girls with lanky legs and hair down to their waists jumped out from the alcove that connected one hallway to another. I tossed my drink mindlessly into the hallway trash can. I watched as the confusing, intimidating man draped his arms around both girls, pulling them close as he slid his hands down to their waists.
He peered over his shoulder at me.
Disgusting.
The man chuckled before he turned his head forward. Together, the hoard of them stormed through the door, making their way down the stairs. Something swirled in my gut as I stood there, rooted to my place. Something unfamiliar. Something that made me sick.
Something that made me resent those girls.
You need sleep.
Being near that man made me feel as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall off at a moment’s notice. And yet, there was something about him that made me think he’d be the one to catch me instead of push me. How could a man so intimidating and so angry-looking also be the man to save someone? He didn’t look like a hero at all, with his leather jacket and his cigarette breath and his predatory grin.
Still, it didn’t stop me from seeing him that way.
I sighed as I forced myself to move. I took one step. Then another. Soon I was in the stairwell, overwhelmed by the scent of cigarettes, leather, and cologne. Yes, that smell was definitely cologne. What kind of man who rode a bike and chain-smoked also wore cologne? The dichotomy was overwhelming. It grew hard to walk up the steps. All the way back to the top floor.
But it was better than taking the chance that someone was screwing around in the elevator.
The thudding of music as I made my way back to my dorm room made me long for the silence of the third floor. Part of me wanted to go back down there and sit, just enjoy it. But the rest of me wanted to get some sleep. I found my way back to the top floor of the dorm building, with Hannah nowhere in sight. And while I had half a mind to go find her, I also knew she was a big girl.
She could take care of herself.
Sleep. Sleep is good.
I refused the drinks people tried to hand me. I held my arms up as I slipped between people so my hands didn’t get misplaced. I did everything I could to keep myself as innocent as possible. Even though hands kept falling on my hips. My thighs. My butt cheeks. Boys wanted to dance. Girls wanted to do shots. The music became more intense, until the thudding of the bass matched the strobing of the lights. It was darn near disorienting. I hated the sensation. And as I teetered my way into my dorm room, I closed the door behind me, breathing a sigh of relief as I shut the chaos out.
Even though my mind still spun on its axis.
Why did those girls make me so upset?
I sat down at my desk and pulled off my heels. I massaged my feet before ripping that stupid white shirt off my body. I changed from my party clothes into my pajamas and eased myself into bed. Tomorrow was another day, and I’d try again. I’d try to be a good student. I’d try to get the rest of my summer reading done. And I’d try to avoid, at all costs, anything that could get me in trouble.
Especially Benji and those lumbering brutes.
8
Max
I lay there for an hour with a girl sleeping on each side of me. A typical Sunday morning for a man like myself. But neither of them were my cup of tea. I drew in a deep breath as the need for a cigarette nagged at me. The girl to my left, with the thick brown hair, kept snoring in my damn ear all night. And the redhead to my right kept moving her knee a bit too close to the boys. One wrong move and I’d be out of the game for at least a week. Because a woman’s legs were never to be messed with in bed.
That much I’d learned the hard way.
“All right. That’s enough,” I groaned.
I sat up in bed and the girls shifted around. One of them yawned while the other whimpered. I didn’t know who did what, and I didn’t care. I slid down to the edge of the bed and slipped my feet into my slippers. I stood, stretching my arms over my head and cracking my back from my tailbone all the way up to my shoulders.
“Oh, yeah. That’s the stuff,” I grunted.
“Hush,” one of the girls mumbled.
“Coffee?” another asked.
I ignored them.
I had to check on my brother first.
I picked my shirt off the floor and slipped it on, then shuffled my way out of my bedroom. I knew the girls would go back to sleep. They always did. I invested a hell of a lot of money in a prime place to sleep, especially after moving in with my older brother. I made my way down the hallway, all the way to the back of the house. When I saw his bedroom door hanging wide open, I sighed.
“How’s the coffee?” I called out.
“Better hush. You’ll wake your company.”
I grinned. “Hope we didn’t wake you.”
“Hope you weren’t trying. Because if you were, you lost.”
I chuckled as I made my way back down the hallway. I peeked my head back into my bedroom and, sure enough, the girls were already fast asleep again. I closed my door to let them sleep and cleared my throat. The smell of coffee finally penetrated my senses, leading me to the kitchen, where my brother sat, his cane between his legs, nursing a mug.
“Second cup?” I asked.
“Nope. First.”
I nodded. “New pain medication working, then?”
“Seems to be.”
I walked over to the coffee pot and reached for my mug. Which was really a small bowl. I never could get enough coffee in my system first thing in the morning. I poured out the straight black liquid and went to sit by my brother, who was having a hell of a time keeping his mug from trembling every time he lifted it or set it down.
“Need help?” I asked.
He snickered. “I should ask you that same question.”
“The hell does that mean?”
He nodded toward the hallway. “They asleep again?”
“Yep.”
“Must be lazy asses, then. Didn’t hear a damn peep from any of you.”
I chuckled. “Oh, ho ho. I see how it is, Mr. Can’t Get It Up.”
“Hey, those are the pain meds talking. I get it up when it counts.”
“I’m sure you and Lefty are very happy together.”
He snickered. “So do I dare ask?”
I took a long pull from my co
ffee. “I know you will.”
He nodded. “How’d things go with Dad yesterday? He have a job for you? Or paychecks?”
“Both. Checked my account half an hour ago. Payments hit.”
“Good. Because the mortgage is due.”
“How many more payments do we have on the thing?”
“Seven more. The end is in sight.”
I sighed. “Fucking finally.”
“What was the job?”
I shot him a look. “You know we’re not supposed to talk about that kind of shit.”
He shrugged. “We do anyway. What makes this different?”
And when I didn’t respond, John drew in a deep breath.
“What’s wrong with this one?” he asked.
I shook my head. “You know how my gut is.”
“You don’t know what’s wrong, you just know something is.”
“Yep.”
“Well, maybe I can help.”
“Nope.”
“Oh, come on, Max.”
“I said no.”
He poked me with his cane. “That’s going in your groin if you don’t start talking.”
I grinned. “Cute.”
He poised the cane between my legs. “Bad move, coming out here without jeans on.”
My face fell. “Fine. Whatever. We have a new contract, yeah. Dad’s expressed a need to keep it on the down low as well as use my finest guys. As in, no prospects.”
“Oh, boy.”
“Yep. Got a client coming into town tomorrow. Name’s Mr. Dean.”
“Which is probably fake.”
“Damn right it is. We’re supposed to meet him at the ‘La Rogue-a-Grand’ or some shit like that in the afternoon after lunch.”
He paused. “La Grenvan Rouge?”
I pointed at him. “That place.”
“That’s a hell of a hotel. Even their dinky rooms cost upwards of a thousand bucks a night to stay.”
“Apparently, it pays a pretty penny.”
“How long are you guys guarding him?”
“Dad said a week. Ten days, tops.”
He paused. “So at least two weeks.”
I sipped my coffee. “Yep. At least that.”
“Jesus.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Did he give you anything other than that? At all?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“I don’t like the sound of this one, Max. I’ve heard Dad talk about a ‘Dean’ before.”
“You think it’s the same one?”
He nodded. “Absolutely. You know Dad. He doesn’t keep company much. So you know he’s gotten in with them somehow. And if they work for or with Dad…?”
“They’re shit news.”
“Yeah.”
I growled. “Fuck.”
“And it’s not a good sign that he wants your best men. That means this man is already in some deep shit as it is.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
He held up his hands. “Just making sure you do. I’d rather talk your ear off about it than you go in blind.”
“I never go in blind.”
He grinned. “Except when it comes to your women.”
I rolled my eyes. “So what else is new?”
He chuckled. “I’m serious, though. The way I’ve heard Dad talk about this ‘Dean’ guy? If that’s even his name? It’s big. He’s big, and he’s bad. Much bigger fish than the Red Thorns have ever gotten tied up with.”
“What have you heard Dad say about this character?”
“It’s not what I’ve heard him say, it’s when I’ve heard him say his name. Remember the first job I ever took as president?”
I blinked. “The Whitecast job.”
“The one that went bad. During the cleanup of that job, he kept talking about how ‘Dean’ would take care of the back end of things.”
“Uh huh.”
“And that Grouper setup?”
I paused. “Are you kidding me?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Again, one of those instances where he supposedly cashed in a favor with this guy to clean up the back end. Whatever the fuck that means.”
“Anything else?”
“Not really. Just a few mentions here and there. Offhanded things.”
“Like…?”
He sighed. “Remember when I was in the hospital?”
I bristled. “I’ll never forget it.”
“I’m pretty sure that Dean guy was in the room with me and Dad at one point.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And…?”
“And nothing. I came out of my pain medication stupor long enough to hear Dad say, ‘I appreciate it, Dean,’ then I was right back out.”
“So this guy is really entangled with Dad.”
“I’d say he’s the closest thing to a friend Dad’s got. Which is why I’m wondering why he doesn’t travel with his own damn security detail. Because anyone with ties to Dad is always gonna be in some deep-ass shit.”
I shrugged. “Beats me. All I know is the money’s good, and our boys are overdue for a damn good payday.”
“You promise me you’ll stay safe.”
I nodded. “You know me. I always play it smart. It’s why Dad hates the fact that I’m head of this crew now.”
He sighed. “Just--don’t do anything stupid. We don’t need both of us crippled for life.”
“Trust me to handle this. We’ll get it done, and everything will be fine.”
“If you say so, Max.”
9
Dani
Note to self: Get to class earlier to get a better seat.
“While I know the first couple days back during the semester are boring syllabus days, I still want you to heed the title of our next lecture on Wednesday: What is Conflict Management? It might seem like an easy question, until you try to answer it yourself. You will find, more likely than not, that your answer brings on more conflict to manage, as does most natural events throughout the course of your day. The point of this course is to work on your negotiation skills. How to manage conflict that comes with every word you say and every sentence you toss out into the world. These are the basics that separate you from everyone else. These are the things that keep you safe. And these are the basics that catapult you into a completely different subset of human interaction.”
‘Negotiation and Conflict Management’ was one of my elective courses. And the more the professor talked, the more excited I was for the class. This settled my debate class requirement as well as opened the door for some of my more advanced courses I’d have to take next year. I was excited to knock two things out at once while having a bit of fun in the process.
As nerdy as that might have sounded.
I didn't like being in the back row, though. It came with a stereotype I didn’t want to be attached to. I looked to my right, watching as the boy at the end of the row picked his nose. He had a friend practically snoring on his shoulder. And the girl next to me was slumped so far down into her seat I thought she might slide onto the floor. I turned to my left and gazed at the open chair next to me.
Then the door of the classroom burst open.
“Sorry. Don't mind me. Doctor’s note.”
The professor stopped talking as my jaw dropped open.
Benji, with a crooked grin on his face and the same black outfit I’d seen him wear twice now, walked over and slapped a piece of paper onto the professor’s desk. He gazed out among the class, looking up the tiers we all sat on. And when his eyes met mine, I wanted to melt to the floor like the girl sitting next to me.
“The next time you’re this late, don’t bother showing up,” the professor said. “And this is college. Doctor’s notes don’t work here, Mr.--”
He made his way for me. “Just call me Benji.”
“Next time you’re this late, don’t bother coming,” the professor repeated.
I watched in horror as he dropped down into the seat next to me. In the back row. And I saw the
look of judgment on the professor’s face.
Yes, definitely arrive early Wednesday morning for class.
“Well hey there, sweetheart. Long time no see.”
I tried my best to ignore him as I glued my eyes to the whiteboard at the front of the class.
“Well, you’re looking more uptight than you did yesterday. Where’s your bonnet?”
I shifted in my seat, scooting as far away from Benji as I could. He snickered at me before he tossed his books to the floor, making as much noise as possible. I wanted to strangle him. I squinted my eyes in an effort to focus my hearing. But the more Benji rustled around, the more distracted I became.
“Are you serious right now?” I hissed.
He grinned. “What? Can’t concentrate? Sounds like a personal problem.”
“Is there an issue back there?”
The professor’s voice caught my ear and I shook my head.
“No, sir. I’m very sorry,” I said.
“Uh huh,” he said.
“Uh huh,” Benji mocked.
“Shut up,” I murmured.
“What was that?” the professor asked.
“She told you to shut up,” Benji said.
“What!? I did not!” I exclaimed.
“Are the two of you going to become a problem? Because I have no issues throwing you out of my class.”
I glared at Benji, who only smiled back at me before he plugged his ears with his headphones. After being forty-five minutes late to class in the first place.
“No, sir. I’m sorry. I don’t even know this guy,” I said.
“We’re in the same dorm!” Benji yelled over his music.
“I really don’t know him,” I insisted.
“She was spying on me last night talking with my guys. I think she’s got a crush.”
The class giggled and I wanted to die. Right then and there.
“Uh huh. Well, keep your emotions out of this class. They won’t do you very well unless you know how to channel them,” the professor said.
“Oh, she can channel them all right,” Benji said.
