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I sat on the couch then and put my empty drink on the floor, groaning as I rubbed the base of my forehead.
“Lovely,” I scoffed. Great. Just fucking great. I hadn't been in classes a solid two days and already shit was being spread around about me. “Exactly how bad is it?”
“Bad enough,” she exclaimed softly. “I told you you’re a magnet. No offense, but congratulations honey, you’ve just attracted a shit ton of unwanted attention.”
Fuck me.
I groaned again and laid back on the couch, closing my eyes. “You got anymore drinks in that fridge?”
“Yeah. Plenty. Help yourself. You’re gonna need them.”
Chapter 8
Phantom
Sweatnastilysmotheredeveryinch of my body as I stepped inside my dorm later that night. I’d just completed my two-hour long workout session at the gym and found Isaac speed-typing away on my computer when I stepped inside my bedroom.
“The fuck you doing?” I angrily snarled.
Isaac jumped out his skin and whipped around in my computer chair, his eyes wide and hands raised like I was pointing my gun at him. If only I had it on me. It was locked up tight in Rhett’s SUV. Stupid fuck knew better than to so much as breathe on or near my computer without my consent.
“Phantom.” He slowly dropped his arms back to his sides, a strained smile on his face. “What’s up, bro? You have a good workout?”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t break all of your goddamn fingers right now.”
“Because I’m your brother and you love me,” he cooed with waggled brows.
“That’s debatable,” I huffed.
Isaac shook his head. “Come on, man, it was an emergency. I’m trying to dig up info on that new chick.”
I frustratingly rolled my eyes and proceeded to my closet, fetching some new clothes. “Should I dare ask why?”
I felt him shrug behind me. “Just curious, I guess.”
Bull-fucking-shit.Ever since his encounter with her in the dining hall, Samara Campbell was all the horny fucker could talk about, the student body included.
“There’s something about her,” he spoke again. “It’s almost like I know her, like I’ve seen her before.”
“That’s just your dick talking,” I grumbled. “You said the same shit about Kinsley when she popped up last year.”
His obsession with sex was unnerving. Then again, I supposed my brother honestly couldn’t help it. Isaac was sexually abused as a child by his foster parents. It started when he was five years old, almost six. Luckily, he was assigned a new social worker who’d made an unexpected house call and witnessed the abuse firsthand. He was put back in the system and was eventually handed over to our father, Xavier Michaelson. As the years went by, Father tried getting Isaac the help he needed. But the damage had already been done. He was addicted. Now he was nothing more than a perverted bastard eager to get his dick wet at any given chance.
“Fuck Kinsley,” he growled, curling his fists on top of the armrests. “She doesn’t matter anymore. Samara is at the top of my to-do list now.”
Isaac was gravely delusional if he thought he’d have a chance at sticking his hands in that cookie jar, and I said so. But my brother was never one to back away from a challenge. So, with that being said, I guess I’d humor him by letting him indulge in this pointless investigation into the new chick’s background.
Leaving him to it, I walked out the door and made my way into my bathroom a few feet away, hurrying to strip out of my clothes and shower. When I was done, I threw on a pair of shorts and my favorite band T, then hurried back to check on Isaac’s progress.
“Find anything?”
Isaac shook his head, sighing with defeat as he threw up his hands. “Nothing useful. Her mom is dead, killed a few months ago in a home invasion. Her dad went missing years ago and hasn’t been found. Shedoeshave a record though.”
“Hmm. Let me see.”
He hopped out the chair and as I sat, my eyes grazed over little Miss Samara Campbell’s crime record. Isaac was right—there wasn’t much to find. Just some mild, petty crimes from a few years back where the girl was busted for stealing. Other than that, she was a ghost.
A notification from my email had my brows furrowing. Chewing restlessly on my left lip ring, I pulled it up. It was from my Dark Web buddy, Kaden Sparks. He was asking if I had any info for him on this Rebel chick who’d been giving him and his Reaper friends some trouble back in their hometown. I’d missed the last half of my classes this afternoon hunting down leads for him.
