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“No.” I place a hand on her shoulder using her and the palm on the tabletop to hoist up my trembling carcass. Steadying myself, I release her and take a step back. “I’ll be fine. See? There’s no need to miss the final song.”
She narrows her eyes but scoots to the end of the seat as though ready to catch me if I fall.
I don’t fall because I take each step down the row of booths like I’m walking the tightrope. My arms splay to the side to keep me balanced.
A few people I recognize from classes wave, but all I offer them are nods and half-hearted smiles. One false move, and I’ll lose my composure then fall on my face.
My bag threatens to swing off my shoulder, so I pull my right arm into my body to halt its descent. As I pass the barista bar, one side of my face gets hit with a blast of fresh air.
Inhaling deeply, I turn to the source of the breeze, all thoughts of going to the bathroom drifting into the ether.
I take one step out of the campus café, when a hand claps over my mouth.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
MARIUS
There are only so many graceless renditions of David Bowie songs a man can take before he becomes prone to violence.
I curl my hands into fists, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the stage, yet my gaze continues to shift toward the front booth.
Phoenix Stahl is drunkenly defiant and a few sips away from stupefaction. Her movements have lost their usual grace and drag in a way that telegraphs her inebriation.
I commend her little friend for confiscating the bottle, but neither of them should be drinking so much in a campus where security focuses more on keeping intruders out than on student or professor misconduct.
If she doesn’t meet me outside like I demanded, I will drag her out. Mission be damned.
Leaning across the table, I give Dr. Xander a pat on the shoulder. “See you on Monday.”
His features fall. “Leaving already?”
“Tomorrow’s an early start,” I reply, still sore at the little bastard for inviting the woman at our side.
I rise and walk past the counter toward the exit, without giving her a backward glance. Phoenix had better leave the café. I’ll be damned if I allow one of the many horny bastards to take advantage of what’s mine.
It’s dark outside, with lampposts illuminating the paths that bisect the lawn. I take a deep breath of rose-scented air, clearing my sinuses of the overwhelming aroma of coffee.
The click-clack of stilettos trail after me as I walk around the building. As expected, Dr. Raring has followed me out.
I continue toward the café’s back door, where industrial garbage cans back onto a side road.
The moment I discovered the Bestlasson boy would be playing here, I used the security system to scope out an excellent a blind spot where I could park between two cameras.
There’s enough tarpaulin in the trunk to wrap a body twice her size. Not that I’m planning on killing anyone but old habits never die with an assassin.
I position myself in another convenient spot and wait.
And just so Dr. Raring doesn’t think my standing here is a form of entrapment, I reach into my pocket and extract my phone.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I scroll through my messages. Not yet.
Meet me around the back of the building, or your cute little ass will be red for a week,I message.
My lips tighten. Phoenix would probably enjoy that spanking.
Dr. Raring walks within snatching distance. “Professor Segul?”
