I haven’t told him anything about the club brawl. “Some ugly elements out there. Making sure Marietta’s okay.”
“And the other bike thugs? Those yours?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s more than elements, then. Sounds like protecting a target.”
I shrug. “We’re being careful.”
We both stare over the quad. It’s getting busier. Must be time for class shortly, I guess. I don’t know shit about college.
“Seems like a lot of shit keeps going down since you joined the club. You sure it’s the right thing?” He doesn’t look at me, eyes on random people walking by.
“I’m not officially patched in. I can back out if I think it’s a bad idea.” Not that I would. I like it, even with the conflict. Keeps me from being bored. And Marietta has found a way to fit in.
“I hear you and Marietta are a thing.”
I bet he did. “We hooked up.”
“That’s no small thing, given her status.”
“I’m aware.”
He turns to me at that. “Don’t fuck with her. I mean it. I will fuck you up.”
This pisses me off. “Fuck off. You don’t know anything about what we’re doing.”
We square off, gazes locked. I’m not sure who is going to throw the first punch when Symphony waves an arm between us. “No fighting on the quad, you idiots,” she says. “I can spot a family spat from a hundred paces.”
Diesel breaks eye contact first. “Right. It’s time to go to class, anyway.”
Symphony hooks her arm through his. “See ya, Merrick. The girls will come up to the bar again soon. What nights does Marietta work?”
“Wednesdays,” I say, staring at my brother. “Maybe some other nights if she wants to.”
“Don’t distract her too much. She has a thesis to propose this Friday.”
She does? I drag my eyes away from my brother to her. “I’ll make sure she gets time to work.”
“Good.”
The two of them wander off. The other three women chat a short way away, then Marietta breaks away to come to me.
“It’s a fifty-minute class,” she says. “I’ll meet you right here?”
“Yeah. Let me know if you see anything.”
“I will.” She leans down to kiss me, and there’s something so simple about the gesture that, for a second, my chest seizes.
Then she’s gone, hurrying to catch up with Jenna. Bailey heads toward the parking lot.
The students move into buildings. A few people take notice of me, staring at my cut. One particularly bubbly redhead in a puffy white vest stops in front of me to ask, “What’s a prospect?”
I stare at her long and hard until she shifts uncomfortably from one black boot to the other. When she still doesn’t leave, I say, “It’s like gold prospectors. Only, I collect dead bodies.”
Her eyes go wide, and she whirls away. She walks as fast as she can to the nearest building.
I probably shouldn’t have said that. She’ll probably call campus security on me.
