Tilting his head, Tattoos arches one dark eyebrow. He doesn’t look intimidated by Saint in the least, which is a strange thing to see. Everyone is intimidated by Saint Angelle. Everyone cowers when he glares at them like that because they’re convinced the bastard is God.
Not this guy. Because even though I don’t know him, I recognize the look on his face. He’s from my world, not Saint’s.
“Listen carefully,” the newcomer says in a tone that sends a shiver running down my spine, but it’s not the same kind of shiver I get when Saint talks. It’s a warning. “I don’t give a fuck how rich or pretty you are. You get in my way, I’ll fuck you up. Bad.”
I can see in his pitch-black eyes that he’s serious, and I know just how bad someone like him can hurt another person. Saint doesn’t.
Pushing past Saint, I plant myself in between them and turn my face up to his.
“Angelle, go away,” I order, jabbing a finger toward the door.
Fury flashes in his eyes. “Are you fucking deaf? I already said I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
“I trust him more than I do you,” I snap back. It’s a somewhat low blow, but I really shouldn’t worry about hurting his feelings, now should I?
“Mallory—”
“Don’t.” I shake my head sharply. “Don’t start that shit with me. Don’t pretend you actually care what happens to me. Just get out before I call the campus police to escort you out.”
I think I’ve caught him off guard because his jaw goes slack. After a moment, however, he sneers. “Whatever. But just so you know, we’re not finished. I’ll be back, Mallory.”
I scoff, even as my treacherous heart flutters. “Joy,” I say, giving him a sarcastic golf clap.
He pivots toward the door, pausing long enough to give the dark-haired guy a venomous look before he stalks into the hall, slamming the door so hard that my walls seem to tremble. Once he’s gone, I stare at the door for a long time, chewing on the tip of my thumb, before turning back to my surprise guest.
“Okay, who are you?”
“Told you already, your momma sent me.”
“That’s not an answer.” I slip my phone from my pocket and hold it up. “Start talking, or I’m calling the cops.”
Faster than I can clock, he moves forward and snatches my phone from my hand.
My heart leaps into my throat, but then he smirks and tosses the device to my bed. “You ain’t calling the cops, little girl. Not if you want to see Jenn.”
He doesn’t make another move to touch me, and even leaves space between us. Is he intentionally trying to make me feel more comfortable?
I relax a little and think about the reason he’s come here.
What is my mom up to? She’s never gone to such lengths just to contact me before.
“Is Jenn in California?” And how the hell does a small-town meth dealer have messengers?”
She’s not a kingpin.
Is she?
Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her. Even in her sloppiest moments, Jenn has managed to surprise me with just how genius she can be. The guy just continues to grin at me, as if I’m amusing him.
“You need to meet Jenn on Sunday night. I’ll text you the details later.”
This is feeling more and more surreal. My mom sent a mysterious messenger to set up a secret rendezvous with her. What the fuck is this? Blacklist?
“How do I know this isn’t all bullshit? How do I know Jenn really sent you?” I can’t shake the suspicion that this is all just another elaborate scheme to embarrass me. Laurel’s probably waiting out in the hall right now with her lemmings, waiting to laugh in my stupid face.
“Yeahhh, she said you’d say some shit like that,” the guy explains, laughing softly as he shakes his head. “She sent this along.”
He drags something from the back pocket of his jeans and dangles it off the tips of his fingers toward me. It’s an envelope.
I cautiously take it from his hand. Casting him an uncertain look, I open it and pull out the folded piece of paper inside.
Glancing over the page, I instantly recognize my mom’s handwriting. I’d studied it carefully as a kid so I could forge her signature on permission slips and report cards whenever Jenn was too out of it to do it herself. Plus, she’s added her usual flare to my name—the M that looks like a lowercase N and the smiley face inside the O. I don’t know whether to be relieved or worried as I read the few short words that she’s left for me.
Mallory,
Stop asking so many questions and trust Ghost. Don’t waste time.
Xo
J
It’s a very Jenn thing to say.
Crinkling my nose, I blurt out, “Ghost? What kind of name is that?”
He slants me with a brutal look. “You talk too fucking much, you know that?”
“So I’ve heard.” Exhaling, I crumble the note and blink up at him. “All right, fine. Looks like you’re not bullshitting me, so what happens next?”
“Sunday night. Wait for my instructions.”
Yeah, this definitely seems like an episode of Blacklist. Hesitantly, I nod. “All right, Sunday night it is then.”
He gives me a lingering, bemused look before turning and walking out of my room. I stare after him as the door shuts, and wonder what fuckery my mom is dragging me into now?
The next morning, my mind is awhirl as I continue to ponder what Jenn could possibly want. Why does she want to meet in secret? Why did she send Ghost, and just not call or text me directly?
And when the hell did she get to California?
It’s all so weird and screwed up, and I honestly don’t need one more piece of drama piled on top of me, but I do need answers. And then there’s that little piece of me that just wants to see her, in spite of everything.
I’m so wrapped up in my thoughts as I enter the dining building that I don’t see Saint until he snatches my arm and drags me away before I can enter the busy hall.
“Seriously, Saint?” I sputter, but he doesn’t answer me.
He stops in front of a utility closet, opens the door, and shoves me inside, following after me.
I round on him as the door shuts behind us and he flips the light switch.
“What now?”
He crowds me up against the shelves behind me, trapping me with his hands on either side of my head. If he thinks I’m going to cower, the bastard has another thing coming. I roll my shoulders back and lift my chin in defiance.
“What is it?”
“Who the hell was that last night?” he demands in a deep growl that seems to vibrate through my body. “And why didn’t I see him leave the building?”
That’s news to me. Ghost definitely left my room and didn’t come back, so I don’t know what the hell happened to him once he was gone. I open my mouth to tell Saint just that, but then I pause and study him more closely. He’s livid. Is he jealous? Does the idea of another guy alone with me in my room upset him this much?
An evil little voice in my head tells me to poke at this nerve he’s exposed. To punish him for everything he’s done to me. Drive him crazy with the idea that I slept with someone else and moved on from him.