The evidence does suggest that Casanova is stealthy. “Maybe I’ll wear my purse across my body and keep my hand inside on the gun while I walk across campus. How do you carry a gun? Do you wear a holster?”
“I don’t carry on campus. That’s problem number three. It’s illegal to carry firearms on school property, and if the school catches anyone carrying concealed, it leads to expulsion and criminal charges.”
“You’re not armed at school? So if there was a school shooter…?”
“I’d have to go to my car, get my gun and double back. Or I’d have to take him down another way. It would depend on the situation.”
“But if Casanova snuck up on you alone?”
“Look, if someone’s going to come after me, it won’t be by trying to grab me from behind while I’m walking across the quad. It’ll be by doing something like the fire last night. Or just walking up and shooting me in the back of the head. He won’t be trying to capture me. He’ll be trying to kill me. And good luck to him on his approach. Any warning, any hesitation, will mean he’s the one who’s dead.
“You’re a different type of target, baby. If someone comes after you, the motive will be sexual. And I promise you, this guy Casanova is smooth. I think he gets in close somehow before the girl knows she’s in trouble. Maybe he even lures her to him or has someone else lure her.”
“You’ve given this some thought.”
“Of course. I’m your bodyguard.”
“I only asked for a place to stay,” I say quickly and a little defensively. “I never asked you to be my bodyguard.”
“If you say so.” Shane’s tone is casually dismissive, but his expression isn’t annoyed or impatient. He volunteered to drive me to campus and back, and he’s never seemed put out over having to do it. If anything, I think he likes having me rely on him for protection, since it means he can push for things he wants as payment.
“What about a knife? It’s not against Granthorpe rules to have one of those, right? And if there was duct tape to cut or whatever, it could be useful.”
He pauses, and his head tilts back and forth as he weighs this.
“Easier to have that at the ready in a pocket,” he concedes. “But you’ve gotta be within arm’s length to use it. And again, if you pull it out to defend yourself, you have to be ready and able to kill with it. Otherwise, he could use it against you. The thing about all this is that you never know how you’ll react in a real situation. I’ve seen big guys, ones who seem tough as nails, go into a ring to fight and after they take a few hits, they just fold. You feel me? If you pull a knife and then hesitate, it’s more dangerous than being unarmed.”
“If I come face-to-face with Casanova and he’s trying to abduct me, I will not hesitate.”
“You say that, baby, but until the fear and adrenaline hit you, you don’t know what you’ll do. I’ll tell you what. I’ll continue to play bodyguard till the end of the semester. If they don’t catch him before you decide to come back to campus next term, we’ll do some weapons training.”
“Okay, yes. Good.” I smile. “Thank you.”
He frowns. “Don’t thank me yet. I doubt you’ll like training with me. It won’t be fun and games. I will show you your limitations.” His voice grows more grim. “If I’m not one hundred percent convinced you can handle yourself, I won’t let you carry anything. You can just do class virtually next semester or come back for another round in my place.”
“Probably virtual, then. My staying with you as a sex slave you get to punish is very much temporary.”
That causes him to smile wickedly. “Yeah, ‘cause you hate it so much when you come all over my fingers. Or against my mouth. Or with my cock buried in your ass.”
A small gasp escapes, and my face heats, but I manage a scowl. “So crude. You never showed me this side of you before.”
“We weren’t having sex before.”
I open my mouth to say we’re not really having sex now, but of course we are. I originally wasn’t counting my performing oral sex on him as a type of sex that truly involved me. In my mind, I saw it as separate. But when he started touching me back, things changed. And being brought to orgasm, being called baby, and definitely sleeping in the same bed is much more personal.
Spending time parsing out my complicated feelings doesn’t seem useful at the moment. Instead, I silently join him as he goes up and down the street. When Shane spots a house where the lights have been turned on, he knocks on the door. Once someone answers, he tells them about the arson attempt and asks if they have any street-facing cameras, or if they’ve seen any strangers walking up and down the block or acting suspicious. I'm surprised at his tone, which is more conciliatory than I've ever heard it. He's friendly. He's charming. He encourages them to forward the footage from their security cameras to him.
People are concerned, acknowledging that, as Shane points out, a fire at one house could spread to others. His neighbors with cameras promise to look at their clips. Shane gives out his cell number to every person we talk to.
After twelve households, he announces we’re done for the morning.
As we walk back to his place, I say, “Are you sure this was a good idea? What if the strangers on the clips include men delivering things to your house in the middle of the night?”
His gaze cuts to me, his expression suspicious. “What men?”
I’ve outed myself as a witness to Erik Sorensen’s three-in-the-morning delivery. “I thought I heard people in the house one night. Bringing in boxes?”
“Hmm. Could’ve been a dream.”
