“No. I’m leaving with you. If the NFL doesn’t happen, we’ll choose where to live based on what would work best for your career. And I’ll find work wherever that is.”
A rush of warmth courses through me. “You’ll come with me? No matter where I go?”
“Yeah.”
I smile, my heart beating harder. “So why would I care if the NFL doesn’t work out?” I say dryly. “Sounds better for me if it doesn’t.”
There’s a surprised chuckle from his side of the phone. “We’ll figure things out.”
“For sure. Talk to you later, Viking.” I smile as I drop my phone in my purse.
In the admin office, the department secretary points me around the corner to the TA’s office.
I head down the wood-paneled hall. Despite navy carpet that appears new, there’s a musty smell. Even after renovations, old GU buildings hold on to the past. Part way down the hall there are slightly yellowed photographs hanging in frames with an antique bronze patina.
The light in the last office shines, while the other offices are closed and dark. As I pass a door that’s second from the end, I notice the office nameplate reads Drew Ralston, Visiting Adjunct Professor.
I roll my eyes. I didn’t know Ralston had a title and campus office. Figures. Millions in donations don’t just get people their names on buildings, apparently.
I’m glad we’re here during the day. This old deserted hall must be creepy as hell at night. I wonder when they last updated the paneling. 1935?
A semi-circle of modular desks with computers are stationed in the TA’s office. There’s another inner door at the back that’s closed. Stepping inside, I glance around. Avery’s not here, but her empty cup is in the trash basket. Her bag isn’t tucked under a desk, but maybe she went to the bathroom.
I try the inner door, which is locked. Knocking, I look back over my shoulder. The restroom is at the other end of the hall.
I don’t like this.
A floral scent wafts up to my nose. Her perfume, maybe.
Except, no. When we drove in, I didn’t smell it. And I doubt Avery carries perfume to school. That’s a female athlete’s trick for covering the smell of sweat if there’s no time to shower after a workout.
“Avery?” I say, backing up.
The hair on the back of my neck rises. A small shiver courses through me, and I jerk my bag open to grab my phone. Before I do anything, I’m calling Erik to tell him I think something’s wrong. I’ll have the secretary call security, too, before I search the bathrooms.
The door to the inner office opens suddenly, andheis there. Directly in front of me. Black turtleneck, black pants, chalky white mask.
I freeze, unable to even gasp.
Behind him, I catch a glimpse of a slender arm on the floor.
Avery.
“Son of a bitch.” The words escape before I know I’m saying them.
We both move at the same time. I swing my purse like a weapon. He lunges forward.
The bag hits the side of his head and he staggers, but then he launches himself at me. His momentum drives me back, and he sweeps a foot against my calf, knocking me off balance.
I grip his shirt with my left hand as I fall, tearing it. My head tips forward instinctively, so when my back slams against the floor, my head doesn’t. I kick his leg hard and he falls.
We scramble to subdue each other. My legs twist. They’re strong. If I can just get them around him, I’ll have a chance.
Something sharp bites me.
No, not a bite.
A stab?
