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“How are you feeling?” I ask, tilting my head.
Her frown only deepens. “What?”
She’s okay, for now.
“After Sunday,” I expound. “How do you feel? Do I need to book you a shrink? At my expense, of course.”
She only snorts. “Whatever, Marius. Stay away from me.”
Then she turns away and leaves.
I watch her, because damn, that ass. Her walking away isn’t the affront she wants it to be.
She’s wearing capri shorts, which is an insult to those sinful curves.
Someone needs to take this woman shopping. I’m tempted to send her that hundred grand just so she updates her wardrobe.
But no blackmailer ever stops once they know their technique is working. Next it’ll be two hundred, then a million. And then what?
It doesn’t matter. She’d never survive the first transfer.
I let her have a full three minutes’ headway before setting out after her, staying far enough behind not to be noticed.
Out of doors, I spot her halfway to the dorms on the other side of the road, leaning forward, holding her sides, and breathing deep.
I shake my head. Someone should have taught her to be more careful. It was all too easy to slip something in her takeaway cup of coffee while she put it down to go grab a book earlier.
I take my time, heading to the parking lot, and drive around, coming up close to the pavement, right next to her.
She hasn’t moved much, a couple of yards at most. Two students stand around her, asking how she’s doing.
She moans incoherently, incapable of formulating a full answer. To them, she likely looks drunk or high, though her smell doesn’t back the first.
“Sarah, sweetheart, how are you?” I ask again, my tone infused with concern.
The guy at her right looks up, and his eyes widen in recognition. “Marius.”
I don’t know him, but I’m not surprised he knows of me.
“Do you know her?” asks the woman at Sarah’s left, more cautious.
Good girl. She’s trying to protect her fellow woman. I can respect that.
Only Sarah’s not just a woman, she’s also a snake in disguise.
“Oh, yeah.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder, and she doesn’t have the strength to push me away. “I’ll take care of her,” I promise.
And I intend to.
Sarah Andrews is my problem to fix, one way or another.
13
SARAH
Iwake to a quiet darkness, feeling disoriented and dizzy.
I’ve never been thirstier. My head is ringing, screaming like it’s been bashed against a wall repetitively. I have to force my lids to part, and even then, my vision’s blurred.
