Page 97 of Cole

“Working on it!”

Ok, now all I had to do was get to The Clutch, and Cole. Before it was too late.

thirty-three

COLE

The auto shop was comfortingly familiar after last night’s stay in Isabelle’s dorm. I didn’t like sleeping anywhere except my own bed. Maybe Issy was right, I really was getting old. Despite enjoying waking up jammed together, sleeping in her dorm room wasn’t going to work for me, long term, and I was the kind of man who planned to sleep with my woman every night.

Maybe her father being a fucking asshole was good timing, in the end. I’d take over her tuition payments, get rid of the dorm room, and move her into the cabin sooner rather than later. That way, I could take her to class and pick her up, and I’d know she was safe at all times. Unless there was some compelling reason why she wanted to stay in her dorm for the rest of the semester, in which case, RIP to my back.

The day was a blur of work I’d been slacking off on. I focused as well as I could, considering it felt like an axe was swinging back and forth above my head. I was hyperaware of every sound, waiting for the phone in my drawer to ring. Waiting for the mole in the MC to make their move. Waiting for Teddy from the Iron Vultures to come out of hiding and for shit to hit the fan.

Finally, I headed into the bar.

The place hummed with the usual noise, but I blocked it out, especially Kiki’s annoying laughter as she hung on some guy’s arm in the corner. Her eyes flicked to me far too often for her flirting to be anything real, but the guy was eating it up. She was always pretending.

Maddox slid onto the stool beside me at the end of the bar, which I was grateful for. He knew how to keep company without filling the silence. The smoke from his cigarette curled in the air around us, and Ronnie filled my glass without me having to ask.

The door swung open, letting in a blast of cool air that pushed out the cigarette smoke that had pooled at the ceiling. A man stepped in with his shoulders hunched, his eyes searching the room before they landed on me. It was Derek Lane. He was one of mine, and the very last man I wanted to see unaccompanied.

He was my eyes on campus. My eyes on Isabelle. He was the man I trusted to keep Isabelle safe when I couldn’t be there to do it. If he was here, in person, it meant there was a problem. My stomach tightened, and I stood to face him. The way he moved was noticeably different. He was stiff, nervously fidgeting with the key to his bike, and avoiding the gaze of other people. The knot in my gut twisted sharper.

“Lane,” I said, gesturing with a nod of my head to the corner booth.

“We should talk somewhere private,” he said.

“What’s wrong?” I demanded, my voice coming out sharp and clipped. “Is she…?”

Derek put his hands up, as if to stop my racing thoughts. “She’s fine, but there is something I need to tell you.”

Relief hit my lungs, but the knot in my gut twisted harder at Derek’s nervousness.

“Spit it out,” I snapped at him.

“Not here,” he said, glancing around the bar.

Nothing good ever came after words like that.

“My office,” I said, keeping my voice low, and turning to lead the way.

The office door shut behind us with a sharp thud. I couldn’t bring myself to sit in my desk chair, so I leaned against the wall instead. “All right. What is it that you couldn’t tell me in the bar?”

Derek hesitated. He was a solid man and older than me by only a few years, but he was as steady as they came. I’d trusted him ever since he’d taken a knife to the forearm for me without blinking. But right now, he looked like a dog who was scared for his owner to find the shit on their new rug.

“What happened?” I pressed, my patience razor thin. “If this is about Isabelle, then you need to spit it out.”

“It is,” he said quickly, as if thankful for a jumping-off point.

Ice filled my veins. “What about Isabelle?”

Derek looked as though he was trying to find the words before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a newspaper that had been folded several times. He held out the small square to me.

I took it from his hand and unfolded the pages. The headline made me grit my teeth in frustration. Fuck.

“When?” I asked. “When was this published?”

Derek shifted uncomfortably, still standing in the middle of the room. “It ran in the school’s newspaper this morning. It’s all over campus. They have the article posted on the website. People are starting to talk.”