Slow Burn(10)

    I knew about Dewhurst-McFarland doing stuff like that. My father had told me. “You were a test subject.”

    “Who cares what happens to a criminal, right?” said Griffin, bitter. “Especially a criminal who’s probably going to die anyway.”

    “They gave you the serum to see if it worked,” I said. “When it did, they turned you into an assassin.”

    He nodded.

    That was a pretty horrible story. So Griffin had dumped my coke down the sink. That had been a dick move, but he’d also saved my life and was spending his time making sure no one else tried to hurt me. He was right. He was a good guy. “You weren’t a criminal,” I said. “You were an idiot kid. They had no right to do what they did to you.”

    He raised his gaze from the sofa to my eyes. “You mean that?”

    “Of course.”

    He looked away again.





Chapter Two

    “I thought you were going to class,” said Griffin. He was standing in my living room, arms folded over his chest.

    “I am,” I said.

    “Wearing that?”

    “What?” I looked down at my outfit. I had on a tiny jean skirt and a pink t-shirt that said, “I Heart Bad Boys.”

    “Can you just try not to stand out so much?” he said.

    “How am I standing out?” I said.

    He sighed. “Listen, doll, there are people out there who are trying to kill you. Serious bad guys, all right? They know you’re a pretty blonde girl. Now, if they walk into your classroom, who do you think is going to jump out at them?”

    “Should I dye my hair?”

    “Can you put on something that’s a less bright color?” he said. “Something less tight? And short?”

    “Go to hell,” I said. “You sound like the father I never wanted.” I picked up my back pack and slung it over my shoulder.

    He rubbed his head. “I’m not going to be able to convince you to change, am I?”

    “No,” I said, swinging open the front door and heading down the steps.

    “Hey,” he called from behind me. “You gonna lock the door?”

    “I lost the key,” I called back. “Besides, you can’t tell me those Op Wraith guys can’t pick locks.”

    “That is true,” he muttered, coming down the steps after me.

    I paused, opening the door to my car. “What are you doing?”

    “I’m coming with you.”

    “What?” I said. “But I’m only going to class.”

    “I’m going to be coming with you everywhere, doll,” he said, opening the passenger door. “You might as well get used to it.”

    Seriously? I sagged against the car door.

    “Better get going,” he said from inside.

    I ducked my head into the car. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to convince you not to come, is there?”

    “Nope,” he said.

    I got in the car and slammed the door shut.

    He didn’t go into class with me, but he did sit outside the entire time, and I saw him pacing in front of the door occasionally. He was like a stalker or something. He did it all day. After every class, he’d be waiting outside for me. “Where do we go next?” he’d say cheerily.

    He followed me across campus, from my math class to my English classes to my art appreciation class. He followed me to lunch. There was a cafeteria on campus, but it was mostly for the kids who lived in the dorms. Instead, I usually went to The Wolves Den, which was this little sandwich place that was run by the college. It was only open for lunch during classes. Griffin followed me there too.

    There were a few girls from my art class that I usually ate with.

    “You want me to sit at a different table?” said Griffin.

    “Yes,” I said. It was really annoying to have a shadow.

    But I wasn’t fooling anyone.

    “Who’s that guy?” said one of my art class friends.

    “He’s been following you all day,” said another.