But adrenaline continued to surge through my veins. I didn’t know what else to do except sit outside the dorms and wait until the boots arrived.
So that’s exactly what I did.
I sat in the shadows and waited. By the time five-thirty rolled around, I got another phone call, and the boots were delivered into my hands by one of my associates.
I wanted to put them at her door. I wanted to be the guy to apologize, and I wasn’t doing it on Nixon’s behalf. No, I was doing it for me.
Cursing the Mafia the entire way up to her floor, I clenched the boots in my hand and went to her room.
I’d written a note.
It was lame.
Who wrote notes? It was like I’d reverted to middle school, but I wanted to do something special, something extra. Hell, after that shitty day, I should have put a bottle of wine in one of the boots with a sedative.
I raised my hand to knock. Visions of Trace opening the door filled my head. She’d, of course, give me a hug, invite me in. Maybe it would be the start of our relationship. I’d slowly slink into her life and we’d… what? What exactly would happen?
She wasn’t one of us. She didn’t belong in our world.
I put my hand down and stared at the door.
Our future was over before it had even begun.
“Chase?” A female called out my name. “Is that you?”
I turned to the left where Molly, a past booty-call stood wearing nothing but a long tight t-shirt and a smile.
“Yeah.” I looked away.
“You wanna come over for a bit?”
No. I didn’t.
I wanted to knock on the door.
But instead of knocking, and potentially ruining a girl’s life, a girl already on her road to ruination, I stepped back and shook my head.
“Maybe another time, Molly.”
As my footsteps echoed across the floor, I wondered. One day, would I look back on this moment? And wish… I would have knocked?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sisters should be outlawed.
Nixon
Mo: WTF
The text came in at seven a.m., flashing across my screen. I was at our office on campus, though to the naked eye, it looked more like a bachelor pad with a full kitchen, bedroom, fresh clothes, and a crazy big-screen TV. Really it just looked like something a rich kid would have at a school he owned.
But it was a necessity for me. Because for the most part, I wasn’t at home running things; I was at Eagle Elite, which meant I needed a place to sleep. Besides, it was so much easier accessing the system from campus than going home and hacking into it. De Lange didn’t know about it — then again he wanted to stay in our good graces, so even if he did, I doubted he’d say a word.
I stared at my phone for a good five minutes then texted back Mo.
Me: By WTF I can only assume you can’t find your shoes?
Mo: Screw off. She’s eating with us.
Me: Girls gotta eat.
Mo: Are you going soft, brother?
Me: Keep an eye on her — if she does anything suspicious, you know what to do.
Mo: I’m not killing her for being curious.
Me: I’m not asking you to. If she’s curious in the wrong spot, I’ll finish her off. Now go to class and try not to hike up your skirt. Tex is having a hard time concentrating.
I got nothing in return but a smiley face. Between babysitting Trace and the rest of the gang, I felt like I hadn’t slept in days. I was being pulled into the business more and more. Not only was I facing nothing but dead ends when it came to the murder all those years ago — the one that had destroyed the alliance between my family and the Alferos, but my main suspect, De Lange, hadn’t made a false move in months.
They had no money, so maybe that was the problem. I made a note to do a deal with them, throw a bone, see if it tempted anyone enough to talk. I’d tried it before, but now that some of the associates were desperate, it couldn’t hurt, right?
I quickly threw on my Elite uniform and walked out of the room. The door slid shut behind me.
The hallways were semi-empty; a few girls waved in my direction, but I ignored them like I always did. They weren’t worth my time, unless they were on their backs, and even then I’d grown bored of it — of all of it.
“You look like hell.” Tex caught up with me and slapped me on the back just as Chase intercepted us in the hall. His face said it all — guilt.
“How’d last night go?” I asked smoothly.
“A few scratches here and there.” He tossed me his cell phone.
I scrolled through the pictures and nodded encouragingly. The face was recognizable but barely. Missing fingers, even a few missing toes.
“You let him keep his teeth.”
Chase shrugged. “I was feeling generous.”
“Funny, me too.” Tex nodded. “Last night I was so generous I—”