Page 100 of Coveted By Cupid

“The hell I can’t,” I mutter, turning my back on her and yanking the building door open to head inside. I’ll be damned if I let that bitch make me late for my first day back to class.

Cookie is chuckling, shaking his head as he follows me. “Crypt, you’re an animal, buddy. Pretty sure you made the chick piss herself.”

“She had it coming,” I say uncaring, speed-walking to class to make it on time.

“Who was she?” Crypt asks me, his voice lethal, as if he’s still deciding if she’s a threat.

“Someone easy my ex fucked on my couch when we were still together.”

“Damn,” Cookie says with a disgusted tone. “He downgraded on that trade.”

Aw. I guess Cookie can be nice…when he wants to be. “That’s sweet of you.”

He snorts. “I’m anything but sweet.”

“But your club name is Cookie,” Crypt points out. “Cookies are sweet.”

“Yeah,” I say, backing up the enforcer and ruffling Cookie’s feathers some more. “Take a compliment, Cookie. I don’t give them out often.”

“Sweetness is not why I got my club name, and you know it,” he says, grumbling.

Crypt’s face puckers, thinking about something. “Leaving your couch behind makes sense now. Prez was insistent on not moving it.”

I nod, approving of my ole man’s choice. “He gets me. Still, I wouldn’t have minded burning it for funziez.”

“It would have made one hell of a bonfire,” Cookie says approvingly.

“I don’t like the woman who grabbed you,” Crypt says on the other side of me, pivoting us back to Riley. “She was too pushy.”

Cookie hums in agreement. “She was, wasn’t she?”

“And I’m concerned with this Boden guy,” Crypt continues, his voice growing tighter. “He seems obsessive for an ex. Do I need to kill him?”

Arriving at the doors of my lecture hall, I gently pat the enforcer’s arm. “No need, Crypt. He’s a non-issue. He’s just a bad chapter in my book.”

Crypt scowls, not convinced as I head into class.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

BODEN

It’s another shit morning waking up to unwanted visitors in my apartment. Kirill sits at my kitchen table reading something on his cell while Mikhail cooks breakfast in the kitchen, filling up the tiny space like a damn giant on steroids and singing some folk song in his Russian tongue.

The smell of bologna sizzling in the skillet makes me want to retch. Too many days of my Russian roommates making the same butterbrots open-faced breakfast sandwiches has left a stench I’m sure has permeated the walls. Chances are the smell will never go away.

I’m wiping the sleep away from my eyes when Riley comes barreling into my apartment, skin flushed like she ran all the way here. “I’ve found Vanessa!”

The three of us rush her, all asking questions at once.

“Where? Where is she?” I holler over the others, desperate for answers.

“She’s on campus. She was heading into a lecture hall when I spotted her.”

“Why didn’t you bring her back here?” Kirill demands, his face turning a frustrated shade of red.

Good question. I want to know why as well. We can’t afford to let Vanessa slip away again, not without knowing where she’s staying.

“I tried,” Riley protests. “She wasn’t coming willingly. Also, her buffoon of a bodyguard threatened to break my arm if I didn’t let go of her.”