Page 5 of Chasing Kit

“And the others?” I asked, glancing at the second group across the hall.

Leland always said I asked too many questions when something piqued my interest, and I couldn’t bite my tongue now. I was curious. Leland also said my curiosity would get me killed one day, and knowing him, he was probably right. Hopefully, not today, though.

Dr. Mifflin’s blush deepened until even his forehead and ears went pink, and he cleared his throat. Lor, who’d been wiping off the whiteboard, came over and patted his shoulder in sympathy. “Uh, yes. They are for me and Lor. We’ve had a bit of trouble at home, and they’ve come with us for our protection. Our boss has provided them for us.”

I cocked my head. “MCU must be a good college to work for. That’s where you taught when you wrote your books, right?”

He laughed. “Not anymore. No, we work privately now.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but the stern brunet with the irritating smirk spoke up. “Did ye have class-related questions for ’im?” His gaze narrowed on me, and I took a moment to appreciate the angles of his face and nose. He was handsome, but a seriousness in his expression struck a chord of fear inside me. Even though Dad had spent my entire life teaching me self-defense and taking me to a firing range—which I absolutely hated—I had a feeling I would be outmatched by this guy. Hell, they would all be able to destroy me, I was sure of it.

“Uh, yeah.” I laughed nervously and turned my attention back to Dr. Mifflin. “I had some questions about the mob. You talked a lot about New York City and Chicago, and I know that’s where most of the activity happens, the big cities, but what about New Gothenburg? Our city is known for motorcycle clubs and criminals, but I’ve never heard anything about the mafia here.”

Dr. Mifflin’s eyebrows furrowed in thought. He crossed his arms and stroked his chin. “You know, there has never been much mob history here. From what I know, the Italians were here for a few years back in the nineties, but they didn’t stay long.”

“Do you know why?” I leaned closer to him. “I’m studying criminal justice, and I’m really interested in organized crime. I want to help bring down mobs, but I don’t want to go through the police force, you know? Maybe a profiler. I’m not sure yet.”

Someone snorted behind me. I didn’t know which of the four men it was, but I huffed in annoyance.

Dr. Mifflin waved his hand. “Ignore them.” He bounced on his feet and grabbed my upper arms. “You do what you love. What’s your name?”

“Kit.” I grinned.

“Kit, I’m Vail.” He pulled me toward the front row, near the four men, and pushed me into a chair. He took the seat beside me. “To be honest, New Gothenburg does intrigue me. You’re right, it’s known for criminal activity from the motorcycle clubs. But I wonder why the Italians didn’t stay here long? Every city has its purpose, and New Gothenburg isn’t small.” He glanced to the right, eyes narrowed and lost in thought. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s because of Derek.”

“Derek?”

The big man with brown waves cleared his throat. “Little doc, enough. Remember what we told you?”

Dr. Mifflin blanched and gave me an apologetic smile. “Ignore that I said that.”

“No, Dr. Mifflin, please. Who’s Derek? Is he a player here?” I thought about Dad and chuckled inwardly at the idea of him being a big criminal in New Gothenburg. He hated speeding, let alone breaking any other law.

The redhead rose and walked to us, holding out his hand to Vail. “I think that’s enough for today, angel. You were paid to talk to the class, not answer little questions afterward. And Fallon—” He gestured at the blond. “—needs to eat sooner rather than later.”

Vail nodded and took the redhead’s hand. He gave me a gentle smile and held up a finger. Pulling his hand from the redhead’s, he rushed to the desk at the front of the classroom and opened one of his folders. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, then came back to me. “Here, write your name and number on this. Maybe we could discuss your future. There are a lot of good programs to consider if you’re going to pursue this subject long-term.” He gave his men a sweet stare.

The stern Irishman snorted.

I quickly wrote my name and number down before he could change his mind and passed the paper to him.

The smile on Vail’s face slipped as he read it. “Kit Uhlig? I don’t remember you being on my class roster.”

“That’s my name,” I said, nodding eagerly. “But for school I’m enrolled as Christopher McIntyre. It was my mom’s maiden name, and after the divorce, my dad wanted me to use it for official records. It’s complicated. I still go by Kit Uhlig for most things.”

The big man with wavy brown hair shot to his feet, snatching the paper from Vail’s hand. His eyes narrowed on the name, and with a sharp, deliberate motion, he tore the paper in half. He held the two pieces out to me.

“No.”

“Aspen—” Vail started, but the man shot him a silencing glance.

I stared at the shredded paper, the pieces trembling in his grip. My own name looked back at me, ripped apart and mangled.

“He asked for it,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.

“And I said no.” Aspen crossed his massive arms, his suit pulling at his wide biceps. His hair was shiny under the lights, and I had to tilt my chin back to stare up at him.

“Aspen—” Dr. Mifflin started again, but Aspen interrupted him.