Page 89 of Callous Shot

“Wait a minute.” Ryker’s voice cut through the low chatter. “Are we talking about Bellingham?”

Steeling myself, I lifted my head to meet my best friend’s hard gaze. Shit.

“Uh…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “He’s been helping me out with some stuff.”

“What, like your dick?” Ryker shot back. “Fucking hell, Arson. What are you doing?”

“King! My mum’s here,” I hissed, my face heating. “It’s not— It’s not like that.”

He rolled his eyes. Ugh. For fuck’s sake. Why couldn’t I be a better liar? I needed to practice my poker face in front of the mirror ASAP. I stared him down, but he was immune to my warning look.

Turning back to my mum, I grimaced. “All we did was talk when he was here.” Today, anyway. We’d spent almost three hours talking, in fact, curled up on my bed, before he reluctantly dragged himself away. Okay, there was a bit of kissing too, but we really had spent most of the time in conversation. I loved talking to him and hearing what he had to say. He was so intelligent, and warm, and⁠—

Ryker pointedly cleared his throat. “Neil. Rachel. Mind if I have a quick word with Dan?”

I followed Ryker out of the dining room-slash-meeting room and down the corridor until we reached the kitchen. Leaning back against the island, I waited.

“He was on a mission with you? What the fuck? Do you remember who his family is?”

“I didn’t invite him. He showed up. What was I supposed to do?” I bit out.

“Tell him to fucking leave?”

“I’d literally just been stabbed.”

Some of the tension left Ryker’s jaw. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It was a tiny knife. I used it to stab the guy in the eye, though. He looked worse than I did.”

“Nice,” my best friend said approvingly, but he didn’t let me get away with changing the subject. “So Bellingham just happened to show up at a place where you were hunting down the Cartwright Gang?”

“Who we now know are definitely the Culverhouse Network.”

“Don’t you find that suspicious?”

“I—” I bit down on my lip, remembering Lincoln’s words. I was here because I was worried about you. Don’t you remember the message you sent me? Insinuating you might fucking die? “He…he said he was worried about me.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, and then Ryker was right in front of my face, his expression incredulous. “And you believed him? You believed Lincoln Bellingham? The same person who’s hated you all his life, whose parents hate your family, and whose uncle is a fucking sergeant investigating us and sending detectives to our hockey games? You seriously think he was there because he was worried?”

Swallowing around the sudden lump in my throat, I shook my head. “I-I don’t know. It’s…different. He’s not like I thought he was.”

Ryker’s nostrils flared. “Dan. Use your fucking brain. Look, I know you’re into him—and by the way, you officially have the world’s worst taste—but I’m not buying it on his end. Haven’t you thought about the fact that he might be using you? No one goes from outright hate to…whatever this is, in such a short space of time.”

“Yeah.” Rubbing my hand over my mouth, I stared down at the floor. My chest hurt. After a long, long silence, I straightened up, clearing my throat and willing my voice to come out steady. I couldn’t meet Ryker’s gaze. “Okay. Go back to the meeting. Come to the hockey house later and let me know what they’ve decided to do.”

“Where are you going?”

“To speak to Lincoln. Don’t worry. I’ll get your answers.”

“Dan—” he started, but I pushed past him, storming out of the room.

When I reached Lincoln’s building, I found a student unsuccessfully trying to open the entrance door while juggling two pizza boxes and a large, heavy-looking bag. “Let me,” I said. Swiping the pizza boxes and bag from his arms before he had a chance to argue, I mustered up a bright smile that he instantly returned with a grateful one of his own.

“Cheers, mate. You came at just the right time.”

Yeah, I did. Following him inside, the door clicking shut behind us, I nodded. “No problem. Need a hand getting these to your apartment?”

“Nah, I’ve got it from here. Thanks again.” He took his stuff from me, and I waited until he’d left before heading to Lincoln’s apartment. When I’d seen him earlier, he’d mentioned he had a late study session scheduled at the library after his hockey practice, so I knew he wouldn’t be back for a while. It gave me time to think about what I wanted to say to him.