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Tommy Dunleavy.
She couldn’t see the others yet, but now she knew. Those weren’t just other students at the trees. Those were Drew’s friends.
She screamed—or she tried to. That hand clamped down on her mouth, preventing any sound from getting out. She struggled, but he was too strong. They wrestled her around the corner of the building, where it was truly dark. The music from the dance was too loud. Even if she screamed here, no one would hear her.
Drew stroked a hand down her side, the feel of his hand hard through the thin material of the dress. She squealed and squirmed away from him.
“Yeah,” he said. “If I’m going to do the time, I’m sure as hell going to enjoy the crime.”
And then he grabbed hold of the front of her dress. And began to tear it free.
CHAPTER 31
Chris drained the soda from his cup and swirled the ice around the bottom. Monica was yammering about something to do with her nails or her dress or her friends, but he had a pretty low tolerance for stupidity, so he’d tuned her out fifteen minutes ago. The only reason she was hanging off his arm was because her dickhead boyfriend had stepped out for a smoke. Did she think Chris was so clueless he wouldn’t know that?
He was only putting up with it because Monica made for a good cover.
Becca had seen him. She’d seen him and then she’d kissed Hunter.
Crystal clear.
He had enough to worry about. He shouldn’t be watching Becca. He shouldn’t give a crap.
He just couldn’t help himself. He’d watched the little drama unfold with Drew.
Stalker, he’d told himself, but it didn’t matter, because Becca had Hunter. He’d stop her from going with Drew. Or follow. He’d keep her safe.
Chris had waited, but no one followed. Becca had walked out of the gym with Drew while Hunter stood with Quinn and stared at the door.
What a jackass. When it was obvious Hunter wasn’t going to do anything, Chris slammed his cup on the table and moved to follow.
Monica giggled and hung onto him. “Wait—you wanna go watch or something?”
God, it was like she didn’t have an off switch. He wished there were some way to take out her batteries.
Then he realized what she’d said.
He stopped and looked down at her. “Watch what?”
She staggered a little and dug her nails into his jacket. She’d been drinking—a lot. “Ohmigod, I told Tommy we should get a video. Chandler thinks she’s the shit all of a sudden, but everybody knows the truth about her—”
Chris shoved her away from him, making her sit down hard on the bleacher seat. “What are they doing, Monica?”
She giggled again. “It was Drew’s idea, but it’s gonna be epic—”
He grabbed her arm. “What are they doing?”
She hiccupped and looked at his hand. “Ow, Chris ...”
God, what did it matter? They could be hurting her right now.
What if they’d gotten her into a car?
He turned on his heel and made for the door. What would Drew have said to get her outside? Why would she trust that ass**le?
Then again, Becca had a core of kindness—no, of empathy—behind all those walls and defenses. Chris was living proof of that.
If that guy hurt her—if he touched her—Chris would kill him.
