Page 31 of Heartless Lord
“Did Cordelia ever show up?” He pushed his glasses further up his nose.
I shook my head. “She shacked up with some guy from the party. I had a text message from her this morning. She had a little too much fun last night and won’t be making it to class. Again.”
Silence stretched between us, and I chewed on my lower lip as we crossed the quiet campus. Micah paused beneath the shade of an old willow tree and squeezed my shoulder, pulling me to a stop beside him. “You made the right decision... Keeping quiet about last night, I mean,” he whispered.
“Then why do I feel like such shit?” I yanked at the straps of my backpack, fidgeting with the ends.
“Because you’re a good person.”
I scoffed, then lowering my voice, added, “Good people don’t keep quiet about possible murders.”
“I already told you last night, by the time the cops arrived, whatever may have happened would’ve been covered up. This isn’t the first time something’s gone down at the Sig Delt House, and it won’t be the last, unless we find out the truth. Those guys are so much more than just a fraternity house. They’ve got connections in the highest echelons of society: big business, the local government, the police, hell, probably even the White House. If you’d called the police last night, it would’ve been swept under the rug like every other questionable thing that goes on under that roof. And worse, it could have put a target on your back. Now, they think they’ve gotten away with it, which means they’ll relax. And that’s how we’ll get them.” A smirk ignited a spark in those warm hazel eyes.
I pressed my arms across my chest and released a frustrated breath. “That doesn’t sound remotely dangerous, Mr. Investigative Reporter.”
“I live for this stuff. I’ve been trying to nail those bastards since my freshman year.” The cheeky grin flipped into a frown, darkness settling over his lively eyes. “Three years ago, a girl from my dorm went missing after one of their big parties. Her name was Susanna Michaels. We’d gone on a few dates, and...” His eyes chased to the ground between our feet. “No one ever found her.”
“That’s awful.”
“She didn’t come from money, not like the majority of the assholes in that fraternity, so no one bothered to look for her. The official statement from the university was that she’d dropped out.” His jaw ticked, a flicker of disgust curling the edges of his mouth. “I knew Susanna. She never would’ve left without saying goodbye. She was an orphan with no family to search for her, and I know what it cost her to make it to Stonewall. She wouldn’t have bailed like that. Ever.”
I reached for his hands and squeezed them between my icy ones.
“I should’ve done something back then, but I had no idea what to do.” Micah’s head dipped, shoulders drooping. “I’ve been trying to get dirt on them ever since, but the Sigma Delts are untouchable. Until now.”
“But I don’t even know who they were talking about, or even who ‘they’ are.” My thoughts flickered back to last night, to the muffled, desperate voices. One definitely belonged to the guy I’d hooked up with in the fucked up Fifty Shades of Grey room, but the other? It couldn’t have beenhim.
“Maybe you’d recognize their voices if you heard them again?”
“Maybe...” I hadn’t admitted to my new friend what I’d really been doing down there. How could I tell him I’d enjoyed that dark moment of depravity with a stranger? That despite the horrible thing I’d witnessed, I couldn’t get his demanding lips, his rough hands, or his intoxicating scent out of my mind. My cheeks flushed from the heated memories. Tossing them far, far away, I shook out my head and focused on Micah. “I’ll try to help however I can, but I gotta go. I already missed this class once.”
“I don’t believe it, not you, pre-med.”
I smiled at the nickname. “It’s just Rocks for Jocks, or whatever.”
He chuckled. “Ah, okay, now I get it. I’m saving that elective for my senior year.”
“Smart.”
Micah released my hand. “Meet you for lunch?”
“Sure.” With a quick wave, I bounded up the steps of Hawthorne Hall.
Darting through the crowded hallway, I finally found the gilded sign for Davenport Auditorium. That damned name followed me everywhere. A chill skittered up my spine, and this one had nothing to do with the weather. I fished my class schedule from my pocket and ran my finger over the room assignments. The name beside Geology 101 had been smudged, only a D and Auditorium remained. It had to be it.
Darkness crept into the corners of my vision, and I was back in my best friend’s house in Arizona with the black Mercedes parked in the driveway all those years ago. Stanford Davenport. The man who’d robbed me of my innocence, who’d shattered my relationship with Killian, and who’d fucked up everything for so many years.
The crack of a door slamming shut drew me from the dark thoughts, and I blinked quickly. Shit. I was late. I raced through the double doors at the end of the hall and tiptoed into the bustling auditorium. Unlike my other classes, which had twenty or thirty students max, Geology 101 was filled to the brim with bodies.
I spotted a seat in the last row and darted up the steps.
“Take your seats, everyone. Class has begun.” The professor’s voice echoed through the massive chamber.
Crap. I slid into an empty seat at the end and dropped my backpack beside me. Bending down, I rifled through my bag until I found the massive Geology textbook and my favorite pen. As I straightened, the tiny hairs on my nape prickled.
I could feel it.
A glare boring into the side of my head. A devastatingly familiar scent contaminated the air, and I drew in a ragged breath.
