Page 140 of Ruthless Court

Hannah: Why?

Because I’m currently deciding whether I need to fight an imaginary French art dealer.

Me: Curiosity.

Hannah: Sounds painful.

Me: I manage.

Nothing.

I get behind the wheel and start the engine.

Her SUV is long gone.

Good.

Perfect.

Now I can go back to my dorm and forget the entire thing.

Forget her trapped between me and those shelves.

Forget the way her breath caught.

Forget that for one second she looked at my mouth like she wanted exactly what I wanted.

My phone buzzes.

Hannah: Go home, Kane.

I stare at it.

Then type.

Me: Already going.

A lie.

Because I’m pulling out of the lot.

And I know exactly which direction that SUV went.

The SUV leaves campus and heads south. I stay several cars behind, far enough that she won’t notice me through the rear window.

The SUV is slowing.

Not in front of a mansion.

Not a restaurant.

Definitely not some professor’s tasteful mid-century home.

It pulls into a cracked parking lot beside a squat brick building.

I pass the entrance before she can spot my car.

The sign flashes by.