“When you say settle things…?”
My shoulder jerks in a shrug, and I wave away the question. “You get the idea. But at the last minute, the Viking changed the conditions. So, I didn’t go through with it. I didn’t say no outright though. I said I needed to think.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Do you think he waited?”
My fingers tap an angry rhythm on the steering wheel. “No. Sorensen reached out to Luis on his own and set up the underground fight. A lot of GU’s Greek system turned up to watch and place bets. Sorensen beat the hell out of Luis, publicly humiliating him, and won thousands of dollars for the trouble. Luis had to have surgery on his broken face and had trouble breathing for weeks from his cracked ribs and bruised lungs.” Falling silent, anger courses through me again.
“Did his family blame you?”
“Of course.”
“What happened?”
“Luckily nothing. There was some gang war. Most of the Sosas here in the U.S. were shot dead. The rest fled back to Colombia.” Shivering, I draw in a slow breath. “I got lucky. If you can consider multiple homicide good luck.”
Her silence tells me she agrees that a massacre isn’t something to celebrate. “And sex was what you promised Erik?”
“He didn’t want dance lessons,” I say tartly.
A small derisive chuckle escapes her lips, and I smile, too, despite a stomach full of rocks. I tell myself I don’t care if he’s pissed that I spilled the beans about freshman year. He’s the one who said the truce was over.
Camrynn wrinkles her nose. “The way Erik handled things does suck. Even if he was disappointed when you backed out, he could’ve let it drop. No need to seek your boyfriend out after you’d warned him what the guy was capable of doing.”
“Sorensen didn’t even need to be that generous. I would’ve given him a blow job. Half of the dance team already had. He was the flavor of the month, literally.”
“Jesus.” Cami chuckles nervously. The laugh is quickly followed by a sour face. “Why though? Because he’s such a great football player?”
“No. At that point, no one had even seen him play. When he first showed up, he looked different. Leaner. Clean shaven. Under the scruff and the bulk, he’s handsome. Even better looking than Declan.”
“No one’s better looking than Declan. Unfortunately,” she quips.
“Look back at the pictures from two years ago. You’ll see. I wish it didn’t matter what a guy looks like. Sorensen’s so cold he makes sharks seem warm-blooded. But none of us knew that then.”
“Heartless? That’s disappointing. He and I are supposed to be partners now.”
“Good luck with that.” Rubbing the gearshift, I realize it’s phallic and squeeze as though I want to pop the top off the shaft. “Anyway, it’s fine. A half dozen broken ribs and shattered cheek are probably the best things that could’ve happened to Luis and me. He left me alone while he recovered and then he was gone. In some ways, it saved me. But I can’t get over that it was nearly a tragedy. He and his thugs would’ve beaten my brother Ben to death. That was their plan.” My grimace is grim. “Ben is sweet. He’d never hurt anyone. He’s pre-med and super hardworking. If Ben had died, it would’ve killed my family.”
I shudder, a ripple of the old fear and revulsion gripping me. Luis’s words come rushing back.I could kill you right now, Arya. But it would be too quick. I’ll save you for last.
A chill races down my spine. I shouldn’t be talking about this. My brain is already overflowing with nightmares. I’ve barely slept since Isobel Long, one of Casanova’s missing girls, washed ashore.
With a blink at the road, I realize I’ve been driving without paying attention. A couple of turns gets us on course again.
As we leave campus, the neighborhoods change. Affluent houses give way to a pocket where construction has stalled and crime is high.
We pass places with boarded windows, and Cami peers out. “Where are we?”
“In the 1950s, this area was called The Rat Run. I guess because it was kind of like a vertical maze of one-way and dead-end streets. Now it’s just nicknamed The Run. We’re about two blocks from the river.” I cross a divider and park next to a small lot that’s overgrown with calf-high weeds. Looming beyond it is a large former apartment building that has been partially demolished.
After Cami exits the car, she studies our surroundings. “Is it safe to park a Mercedes here?”
“Probably not.” My tone is fatalistic. “But I’ve done it before, and we won’t be gone long.” Waving for her to follow, I cut across the field. “I found this area when I was scouting for an urban-looking location. The Lady Knights were doing a series of dance videos for social media. We’d done them on campus and in a park, so we wanted somewhere gritty.”
Cami whistles at the exposed beams and heaps of rubble. “Mission accomplished.”
“I don’t think it’ll be this way much longer. Ralston Enterprises plans to develop it. But for now…” I cock my head, surveying the site, which is as derelict as ever. “I found this location in early October last year, before we really knew about Casanova. One girl had gone missing, but the police hadn’t told the public about the Casanova book or lavender roses. No one knew if the girl took off herself or what. Anyway, it was around five thirty in the evening when I arrived here.”
We pick our way around broken bottles and chunks of busted concrete on the south side of the building. There’s a small lot with a cracked driveway, and I point it out to her.
“There was a car parked right over there, which I thought was strange because there are no houses or apartments nearby. It would be a pain to walk across this terrain to get to it. But the car wasn’t dusty, as though abandoned.
