I’m not sure if it was just my paranoia cranking up to an eleven when Thatcher stepped into the room and nearly caught Professor Rooke trying to get me off, but I swear I felt tension between them.
I wish I could hear whether Bastian is easing the deputy’s suspicions, or making them worse.
The last thing I need is Thatcher looking at me with those sharp eyes, adding more questions to his list.
I don’t dare risk sticking around just so he can give me enough rope to hang myself with. Especially not with all that alpha-male crap going on between him and my professor.
I saw that flicker of surprise on Professor Rooke’s face when Thatcher said he went to some college I’ve never even heard of.
It doesn’t matter who’s got the bigger dick, Bastian.
What matters is that Thatcher doesn’t decide to look closer at any of us.
Bastian doesn’t want him to find out about us. Especially the hotly debated topic of Tuesday’s festivities.
I sure asfuckdon’t want him digging through my past.
And I’m pretty sure Kai doesn’t need more heat on him for what happened with his brother.
So why the hell am I standing here, trying to eavesdrop? This is the perfect opportunity for me to escape before Thatcher can interrogate me. With Bastian distracting Thatcher, I can make like a banana and fucking split.
But first…
I limp back to my bed and shove my hand under the corner of the mattress. My heart nose drives straight for the ground floor when I come up empty.
Where the fuck?—
No.
Did Kai seriously steal the phone and credit card Bastian gave me?
I rip up the corner of the mattress, blowing out a sigh of relief I’m sure they heard all the way into the hall when I see the bubble-wrapped bundle. Guess it was deeper in than I thought. Ishove the phone and credit card into the overalls’ pocket, tossing the bubble wrap into the waste paper basket.
My hand trembles as I grab the door handle, and despite feeling every precious second slipping away, I have to pause and take a few breaths before I can will myself to open the door and step out.
Coward.
Bastian has his back to me, but as soon as Deputy Thatcher glances in my direction, Professor Rooke turns to look at me over his shoulder.
He barely widens his eyes, but the message is clear.
Where the fuck do you think you’re going?
Then his eyes drop to my mouth, and he looks even madder, eyes hooding.
I wasn’t done with you, girl.
My chest closes up as if someone put their foot on it.
I’m guessing it’s you, Professor Rooke.
“Leaving already?” Thatcher asks.
“I, uh—” My gaze cuts to Bastian. He’s the last person I wanted to tell about my new job, but I guess I don’t have a choice. I can’t seem to come up with anything plausible that would require skiping out on a police interrogation.
“I’m starting a new job,” I tell Thatcher. “First day. So, uh, yeah, I need to go.”
It’s a task keeping my eyes on the cop when I notice Bastian tilting his head from the corner of my eye.
