Page 2 of Forever Relentless

Mason’s brow lowered into a frown, resentment shining in his eyes. “I don’t trust anyone.”

Noah smirked. “Same. We’ll walk together.”

They both looked like they’d be happier punching this out in a ring. I caught the expression on the reporter’s face, and I just knew she was thinking the same thing. I looked away when she caught my eye.

I’d assumed Noah was provoking Mason. Looking at his face now, I wasn’t entirely sure that was all it was.

Inside the garage, Mason had a home gym set up, and a desk in the corner with a laptop and stuff.

I watched Dante Spence, the golden-blond quarterback, look from the garage entrance to the street and saw how quickly he realized that Mason had seen them in the first place.

Mason stayed near the door, with Noah opposite him, turned more toward his friends, but still watching my brother.

Noah’s dark eyes fell on me. I remembered the only time I’d spoken to him — the easy way he’d held himself, the specific intensity of his attention when it was directed at you, like you were the only variable in the room worth calculating. And he was hot as fuck. Not helpful. The linebacker for the Alabama Lions was not my focus.

But I couldn’t stop looking at him.

Every inch of Noah said fighter — not the flashy kind that made a show of it, but the savage, relentless kind that took hit after hit and kept getting back up.

I’d thought it before, and my opinion hadn’t changed today. This guy knew trouble, and from the way he was looking at me, he had somehow decided that I was it.

“Someone start talking,” Mason grumbled. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

“We’re actually here—”

Mason shook his head, cutting off the dean’s daughter. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t care,” he told her bluntly. He jerked his head toward Spence. “You. You do the talking.”

QB10 smiled. It was as warm as an iceberg.

“No need to be disrespectful. Talk to her with more respect, or don’t talk at all.” He smiled again, even more arctic. “Are we clear?”

“Fuck you.”

My brother, the diplomat.

“Okay, this is getting us nowhere,” I said, stepping in front of Mason. “Dante Spence,” I pointed at the quarterback. “You know that, obviously. This is Dustin Slater, wide receiver, and Noah Matthews, linebacker.”

“I know the team, Briar,” he mumbled, and I nodded.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just trying to lower the testosterone before one of you blows a gasket. The blonde is Savannah Cole, the dean’s daughter.” I pointed at the brunette. “And this is . . . I don’t know her name, but she’s a journalism major and possibly dating the wide receiver.”

“Definitely dating the wide receiver,” Dustin corrected, looking us over.

Mason ignored him. “This isn’t telling me why they’re here.”

“I know. I was making introductions.” I glared at him over my shoulder and saw the familiar look of wariness in my brother’s eyes, the one that was too familiar since Wrighton U had fucked up his life.

“I’m Hadley Peterson.” The brunette stepped forward, her hand extended. Neither of us took it. “I am a journalism major, and last year I uncovered a story that led me to believe the football program at Wrighton U was rotten to its core.” She looked at us both and seemed encouraged by the surprise on my face. I had no doubt my brother would have hidden his reaction better.

“And?” Mason pushed. See? He definitely had the better poker face.

“And I almost got kicked out after I published it on my blog. Coach Sutherland threw a tantrum, the dean put me on unofficial probation, my blog was taken down, and I lay low.” Hadley didn’t give a shit that the dean’s daughter was standing right beside her. “I was told to let it go, and I tried to let it go, and then—”

“And then I overheard something about payouts,” Dante cut in smoothly. “Noah and I had an altercation with five fourth years. They mentioned you.” He didn’t take his eyes off my brother. “I won’t lie. I didn’t remember your name, but they reminded me how quickly you disappeared. As I said, Noah and I had . . . words with them. The speed with which those five were removed from school only made it clearer there was something very fucking wrong with the program.”

Mason grunted in agreement.

“I’m in the student liaison program,” Savannah picked up where her boyfriend left off. Had they rehearsed this? “I think I might be the only person on campus who didn’t know about the grade altering in the athletics department.” She flushed when Mason snorted.