Emily’s tongue snakes out to lick her lips.
Woman, do that again, and I’ll have you splayed out on my bed regardless if Sam’s in the room or not.
My dick is in agreement too as blood pools in my groin. Now, instead of coming up with our next move or trying to clear the anger away, I’m conjuring up images of when I had Emily under me in Carter’s bed. She felt fucking amazing as I licked my way down her neck, tits, and stomach. Fuck. I can still hear her seductive moans.
“Adam,” Sam barks. “Did you hear a word I said?”
I blink and find Emily and Sam with eyes wide and heads angled.
“Where did you go?” Emily asks so sweetly and softly.
I notice then she isn’t trembling anymore. Instead, she appears concerned for me. Warmth spreads through my chest, and the need to kiss her is strong, but this isn’t the time or place.
I blink. “Sorry, I was thinking.” Of you and me naked. “What were you saying, Sam?”
“That maybe Emily knows the girl in the video,” he says.
I round my gaze to the gorgeous woman on my bed. “Are you sure you want to see it?” I watched it last night, and Sam and I were both disgusted at what we saw. Although if she sees the video, it might make her realize how close she came to being seriously hurt, and that might make her think twice before she pops the next pill.
She nods. “If it helps, yeah. We need to find that girl… To see if she’ll press charges now we have proof of what they did to her.”
Emily is right. We’ve got nothing except empty threats. Wes has nothing too. He can go to Coach all he wants, but he can’t prove a thing. Sam has the camera that was in the hotel room. So, all the evidence of what went down that night is in our hands. He can’t turn me in without incriminating himself. If he’d found a way, the police would’ve already showed up at my door.
Sam swivels in his chair, tapping a few keys on his computer. “I’m watching all the frat house’s email traffic and Wes’s text messages, but things on his end have been quiet since we sent him the threat.”
Emily and I stand behind Sam. While he’s pulling up the video, I grab Emily’s hand.
She flashes her big blues at me, and I swear I just fell one step closer in love. But the moment is severed when Wes’s voice blares out of the speakers.
Emily abandons my hand, her jaw locks up, and she grips the back of Sam’s chair, her knuckles white as fresh fallen snow.
The video shows a similar scene to the one Emily played a part in the other night. Wes’s crew sits back and watches while Wes straddles the girl who appears to be drugged with no fight in her to protect herself.
Sick fucking bastard!
Emily clamps a hand over her mouth, tears ready to spill.
I drape an arm over her. “Sam, cut the video. She’s seen enough.”
Emily turns into me, devastation evident on her pretty face. “Oh my God! That could’ve been me.” Her voice trembles. “I want to kill him.”
No truer feeling has been felt. I tug her to me. “He’ll pay.”
Without turning around, Sam asks, “Do you recognize her?”
“No,” Emily says.
A ping resonates on Sam’s computer.
“Oh, what’s this?” Sam says to no one. He flicks a key, then another, and an email pops up on the screen.
The email is addressed to a Kim Roberts. It’s sent from a generic email address with no identifying components.
Silence fills the room as the three of us read the two sentences.Remember our deal. If you talk, you’re dead.
“Who sent that?” Emily asks, frowning.
I shrug, waiting on Sam to confirm.
