Page 139 of Midnight Curfew

Goddamn him.

I’m not surprised. He’s a piece of shit, and I’ve known it for years.

I squeeze the phone in my hand, calling her again and climbing the stairs to his classroom. Ringing finally reaches my ears, and I vault up the last of the steps, charging toward his room.

“Sophia?” I call out.

Her phone glows bright on Dallas’s desk as it rings in my ear. I hear his voice before I look around.

“She’s in the Bay.”

Jerking my head, I see Dallas slide his hands into his pockets.

Ending the call, I watch him step closer, his T-shirt damp against his body, outlining his stomach. His wet neck and hair glow under the dim light from the hallway.

“I had Officer Jaeger take her,” he says.

“You did what?”

She’s not even here? I look around for any sign of her. Why would she leave her phone?

He looks at me with eyes so calm I want to punch him. “Krisjen and Clay will give her some ice cream and make sure she gets some rest.” He blinks. “She’ll be perfectly safe.”

“She’s not safe without me!”

“She’s not safe with you,” he retorts.

I stuff my cell in my pocket and charge toward him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I growl. “You know her for two seconds and think you have a right to make decisions about her life?”

“When your best friend tried to take off her clothes tonight, she ran to me,” he fires back. “Not you.”

Take off her clothes? What?!

He wouldn’t have done that with me in the house. I was right down the hallway.

Dallas goes on, “He told her she would be spanked for the windows.” He glances behind him, and I follow his gaze, seeing her beautiful work. “So he offered to go easy on her if she let him do it instead.”

He wouldn’t have done that with me in the house.

But he would’ve done it. It sounds exactly like something he’d say. I picture Milo behind me, down the stairs, and out the door, thinking he could try to lay his hands on her. Did he think I’d pass her around to my friends, too?

He probably didn’t even bat an eyelash about me finding out, because no one knows me. Not him, not my father, not Dallas.

I meet his eyes again. “I’ll take care of it,” I say in a low voice. “But I’m not discussing this with you. Sophia and I—”

“Anna-Katherine.”

“Sophia and I,” I grit out, “are none of your business. Is that clear?”

“Not even close.”

Awesome. I’m not going to yell at her, but she involved him and now he thinks he has a say. Another rule to add to her list.

“Did you know my mother worked for your grandparents?” Dallas points out.

Maybe I heard that somewhere. It didn’t interest me, because they’ve all worked for us in some capacity.

He drifts around the room. “A young, beautiful woman cleaning their house while your father—a young fucking prick—lived there, too.”