4. Crazed Killer with a Foot Fetish

4 CRAZED KILLER WITH A FOOT FETISH

Keaton

When the hell was the last time I’d been to the grocery store?

Peering into the sparsely stocked refrigerator after getting Henley settled at the breakfast bar, I had my answer. Too damn long ago. Luckily, there was a half a carton of eggs, a bit of shredded cheddar cheese, and a few slices of ham which—according to the date on the package—were still good.

“Omelets okay?” I asked, loading up my arms with the meager ingredients.

“Perfect.”

Placing everything on the counter next to the stove, I turned in time to see her open the little black bag she’d retrieved from her car. I wasn’t a complete idiot, however since I didn’t know any other diabetics, the night I watched the EMTs check her over was the first time I’d seen a device similar to the one she was holding.

“What’s that? ”

“A glucometer,” she answered, flipping it around to give me a better look.

“Can you show me how it works?”

She studied me for a moment before pulling the rest of her supplies out of the bag. I watched in awe as she pricked her finger, then carefully slid a small testing strip into the edge of the tiny bubble of blood. From there, she inserted the strip into the front of the machine—which turned on automatically—then a few seconds later the results flashed across the screen.

“One thirty seven. Is that good?”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad at all.”

While she packed up her supplies, I moved back to the stove and pulled out two pans from the cabinet underneath. After coating them with cooking spray, I placed them on top of the burners, turned the dials to medium heat and began the preparations for our meal.

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Sure.” Peering over my shoulder, I was struck instantly by how perfect she looked in my space. Even with her messy hair she’d haphazardly thrown up into a ponytail and her clothes slightly rumpled from having slept in them, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. “How about you grab us some coffee? Shit, you drink coffee, right?”

The sweet, melodious sound of her laughter had my dick stirring in my pants for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

“Coffee is life.”

I nodded toward the opposite end of the counter. “Keurig is there, pods are next to it, and the mugs are in the corner cabinet along with sweetener. There’s also creamer in the fridge.”

Flipping the first omelet, I tried to ignore the sway of her hips when she strolled past me after grabbing the bottle of French vanilla creamer from the fridge. However, when she got on her tiptoes to reach the mugs and her sweatshirt rose up just enough to reveal a strip of creamy, pale skin at her waist, I was lost to the view.

“How do you take yours?”

The innocent question snapped me out of my trance in time to remove our food from the heat before it burned. Moving to the toaster, I popped a couple of slices of sourdough in the appliance before answering, “One sugar and a splash of cream, please.”

Once everything was complete, I carried our plates over to the dark wooden table, which was located outside of the kitchen to the left of the living room. More often than not, it was used as a desk instead of for its intended purpose, therefore, after setting our food down on the corner, I gathered the mound of case files I’d strewn about last night along with my laptop and moved them to the farthest end.

“I guess being an FBI agent means your job doesn’t end when you leave the office, huh?”

Henley deposited our mugs on the table, then settled into the chair I pulled out.

“Unfortunately, criminals don’t keep bankers’ hours,” I quipped, lowering myself into the seat across from her.

We spent the next few moments in relative silence as we tucked into our meal, however, my growing curiosity, coupled with what little I’d learned when I was trying to find her, won out.

“Why are you living in your car, Henley?”

The fork she was holding crashed into the plate with a clang, sending bits of egg flying through the air. I’m not sure what I expected when I made the decision to ask the one question which had been burning a hole in my gut, but the look of utter defeat as she lowered her head to her chest was not it.

“I-I—” she stammered.

“Fuck.” Stretching my arm out, I covered her hand with my own. “I’m sorry, baby. You don’t have to explain a damn thing to me right now.”

“I-It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Keaton. I’m embarrassed.”

The tremble in her voice broke something inside of me. I wanted nothing more than to pull her into my arms where nothing bad would ever touch her. Sadly, we weren’t there yet, and if I continued to let her tear herself apart over information I already had, we never would be.

For the first time in my life, I was perilously close to the only thing I swore I’d never have—a future—and I didn’t give a flying fuck. Desperation to have a whole host of tomorrows with this woman bled from my pores. Down to the depths of my haunted soul, I knew with absolute certainty, Henley Graves had crossed my path for a reason. The pull between us was too intoxicating—too electrifying—to be anything other than fate.

Praying my initial deception wouldn't eradicate what we were starting to build, I decided to give my Little Bird the truth.

“Remember when I said I’d been looking for you?” She nodded, still refusing to look at me. Squeezing her hand, I continued, “My job comes with nearly unlimited resources and an incredibly talented team, Henley. During my search, I found out you’d been expelled from Marshall.”

Her eyes snapped to mine, wetness brimming along the bottom lashes, making me feel like an asshole for not breaking the news more gently. Snatching her hand away, she stood abruptly and headed for the front door. Before I could stop her though, she whirled around, pinning me with an expression which bordered between anger and despair, raising my hackles and my heart rate instantaneously.

“No. He doesn’t get to win this time.”

“Who, Henley? What are you talking about?”

Slowly, I stepped toward her, unable to maintain the distance between us.

“I didn’t do what they accused me of.” The fingers of one hand began to vigorously rub back and forth along her left hip. “I didn’t plagiarize anything. I swear on my life I didn’t.”

“I believe you, Little Bird.” My voice was soft and unwavering, which was a complete contrast to the tumultuous storm brewing in my mind.

Christ, anyone who spent five minutes alone with her would know Henley hadn’t so much as cheated on a grammar test let alone plagiarized a college paper. It hadn’t made sense when I’d read about it on her transcripts and witnessing the current level of her distress only solidified my previous conclusions. She’d been set up.

“You do?” she asked.

“Yeah—”

I was cut off from saying anything further by a text alert on my cell seconds before it started to ring. Never a good sign.

Holding up a finger, I crossed the room, grabbing the device off the kitchen counter while noting the name of the caller. Swiping across the screen, I put the phone to my ear and answered, “What couldn’t wait an hour, Noah?”

“We’ve got another body.”

I hated leaving Henley, especially since we’d been interrupted before I had a chance to circle back to find out who this he was she’d mentioned. Unfortunately, crime wasn’t courteous nor was it convenient, but make no mistake about it, we would be revisiting our earlier conversation.

Before she left, I was able to ascertain she’d be working at a diner called Over Easy until around six that night. I tried everything short of bribery to convince her to stay at my place until her shift started, which went about as smoothly as a cotton ball over a block of sandpaper. My little bird had sharp talons and she wasn’t afraid to use them when she felt cornered. Of course, she had no idea how close her words had come to hitting home.

We were at the front door, her hand wrapped around the knob.

“Please, Henley. It’ll make me feel better knowing you're safe and warm.”

“I appreciate the offer, really I do ? —”

“You can’t honestly tell me you feel safer in your car,” I cut her off.

She huffed, spun around, and put her hands on her hips. I’d been standing directly behind her so the move brought us intimately closer. I hadn’t paid attention to our height difference until then, but her head barely reached my shoulders.

“Listen, Keaton. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. We met like five minutes ago and for all I know, you could be a crazed killer with a foot fetish. Which,” she stammered, “by the way, I don’t think you are, but still, a girl can never be too careful.”

I wanted to laugh at her nervous rambling, probably would have if my brain wasn’t stuck on the “crazed killer” part. She’d struck a chord with her off-handed remark and as much as I hated to admit it, she was right. I was pushing too hard, way too fast, all because my protective instincts flared to life whenever she was nearby. She needed time…we both did…to learn what made the other tick.

“I get it.” Catching a faint smell of coconut, I stepped backward before I did something stupid like kiss her. “Can we meet up later? Dinner, maybe?”

“I’d like that.”

“Give me your number and I’ll text you when I’m off.”

Waverly had given us a quick rundown of what to expect when we gathered at the office; having already heard from Duncan who’d headed straight to the scene from his home on the outskirts of town. The body of a young woman—age undetermined—was found naked in a ditch on the side of the highway by a trucker, with obvious signs of torture, including a missing ring finger.

Son of a bitch.

The rising sun had long since vanished behind a thick wall of low hanging storm clouds; a light splatter of rain clinging to the windshield of the federally-issued black SUV Noah was driving. Red-and-blue flashing lights from a multitude of emergency vehicles lit up the sky, signifying our arrival.

“You’ve been awfully quiet. You good?” Noah questioned, flipping on his blinker as he pulled off the road to park behind the coroner’s van.

“I found her.”

“What?” Lanie exploded from the back seat. “And you’re just now telling us?”

“Seriously, K?” Noah shook his head. “We drove forty minutes in absolute silence, thinking you needed the time to clear your head when we could’ve been talking about your mystery girl? ”

“Asshole,” Koen grunted.

“What he said,” Lanie quipped.

“I found her asleep in a shitty blue car in the parking lot of my complex.”

“What the fuck?” Noah whipped his head in my direction.

“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand down my face.

“We knew she lost campus housing, but what about her friends? Couldn’t she crash with one of them?”

“I didn’t ask, Lanie. The impression I got was she doesn’t have any, at least not anyone close enough she felt comfortable asking.”

“Damn. That’s harsh. What are you going to do?”

Keon’s question was the same one I’d been asking myself repeatedly since I’d left her standing beside her car. My stiff neck was proof I wouldn’t survive another night cramped up in my car next to hers, yet there was no way I’d be able to sleep knowing she was out there all alone.

“Earn her trust? Bribery? Fuck if I know. I’m open to any ideas you geniuses might have.”

“She can stay with me,” Lanie offered. “I have an extra bedroom.”

For as much as my inner caveman demanded I be the one who provided her shelter, I bit back the refusal sitting on the tip of my tongue. Henley had already turned down my spare room, choosing instead to return to her car. Maybe she’d be more amenable to staying with a woman.

Hope bloomed in my chest. This might actually work. From what I could tell, Henley needed more people in her corner, and Lanie was one of the best I knew. There was no doubt in my mind the two of them would become fast friends. Plus, it was a great way to start introducing her to my team .

“Thank you. Let me talk to her about it.”

“Excuse me.” Duncan’s gravelly voice boomed as he pounded once on the hood of the SUV with his fist. “Have any of you seen a group of federal agents around here? My team seems to have gotten lost.”

We climbed out of the vehicle, sporting identical navy blue jackets with the letters FBI embossed in yellow over the left breast and across the back.

“Sorry, boss man. Won’t happen again.”

Duncan rolled his eyes, knowing all too well Koen was full of shit, then spun on his heel without further discussion, heading toward the yellow crime scene tape strung up between two trees. As we followed, I scanned the small crowd of looky-loos gathered behind the barricade of police cars, making a mental note of anyone who looked out of place. It wasn’t unheard of for a perp to return to the scene of the crime; essentially taunting law enforcement.

“Watch your step and hold on to your breakfast people.” Duncan held up the tape, allowing us to pass under it. “Our killer is one sick motherfucker.”

While one crime scene tech snapped photos, several others were combing through the ditch, collecting anything within a hundred-yard radius of the body to be used as evidence. However, my sight was riveted to the mutilated remains lying underneath the large black tent which had been erected to keep the rain away.

He wasn’t wrong. She’d suffered unspeakable horrors.

“There’s skin and blood under her nails, Agent Palmer,” the medical examiner called out. “We’ll bag her hands and process the tissue once we have her back at the lab, but from the scratches on her arms, my guess is it’ll be hers.”

“Damn. So much for DNA,” Duncan replied.

“Do you have a time of death?” I asked .

“Good morning to you too, Agent Clarke.”

“My apologies, Dr. Jenkins.”

If Waverly and Duncan symbolized the parental units to our band of misfits, then Farrah Jenkins embodied the role of favorite aunt. She doled out unsolicited—occasionally inappropriate—advice regarding our love lives, had a sharp tongue, a quick wit, and loved to push as many buttons as she could find.

“With this rain and the cooler temperatures last night, my best guess is within the last twenty-four to thirty-six hours. I’ll have a better time frame once I check liver temp.”

Clearing my mind, I inhaled deeply before crouching down beside the victim; Noah did the same on the opposite side. We worked in silence, focusing on the visible trauma. She’d been bound, if the circular wounds around her ankles and wrists were any indication. Whatever was used had cut into her flesh rather severely during her struggle; zip ties maybe, or something along those lines. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, along with countless stab wounds, none of which appeared to be fatal, and distinctive burn marks I recognized immediately.

“Fucker used a Taser on her…repeatedly,” I offered.

“Yeah,” Duncan sighed.

Noah cleared his throat. “He had her for a while. Why dump them where they can be found so quickly though? What’s this bastard's endgame? Notoriety?”

Disgust echoed through his statement. We’d witnessed disturbing crime scenes in the past, although nothing quite to this level of depravity.

“If that’s the case, he’s getting what he wants,” I nodded toward the news crew being held off by local law enforcement.

“You two get anything? ”

Koen and Lanie joined us. They’d split off to interview the man who’d made the discovery in the early morning hours along the interstate.

“Nothing,” Lanie started. “Hardly any other vehicles were on the road besides a few other eighteen wheelers. The trucker only pulled over because of a low pressure alert on one of his tires.”

“If he hadn’t gone down into the ditch to take a piss, he’d have missed her completely,” Koen finished.

“Thank Christ for weak bladders.” Noah stood, stalking off.

“No doubt this case will have past demons resurfacing for some of you. My door is always open, as is Waverly’s.” Duncan shifted his attention to Noah’s retreating back, then back to us. “Stay sharp.”

Part of the reason we worked so well as a team was the four of us shared a common denominator. We’d each joined the FBI because someone we knew and loved had been the victim of an unspeakable crime.

Noah’s older sister married her high school sweetheart while he was away at college. He’d never liked the guy and it turned out his instincts had been spot-on. After a 911 call regarding a domestic disturbance, the police located his sister on the floor of the bathroom, beaten to shit and barely breathing. Her husband pled guilty to a slew of charges, including attempted murder, once evidence showed he’d been brutalizing her for years.

Koen’s dad was a narcotics detective in San Francisco. He’d gotten too close during an investigation of a local gang accused of running drugs and girls. They executed him in a hailstorm of bullets when he was leaving the precinct late one night. At fifteen years old, Koen grew up too quickly, with his mother and two older siblings to hold together .

Lanie’s best friend in high school fell head over heels in love with a man she met over the internet. She snuck out of her parents’ house in the middle of the night to meet him and disappeared without a trace. Two years later, her body was discovered in a shallow grave after a human trafficking ring was brought down.

“We need to catch this bastard,” Lanie seethed.

“Agreed,” Koen and I said simultaneously.

“Get back to the office.” Duncan flicked his head in the direction of our SUV. “We won’t know until after the autopsy if she was one of the two missing women. If that’s the case, then he’s down to one, which means?—”

“He’ll be hunting,” I finished.

Henley

Despite the dark, gloomy skies overhead, there was a smile plastered on my face when I left the shelter after taking a quick shower; thanks to the gorgeous federal agent who’d taken up residency in my every thought. It was obvious he had money, which in the past would’ve meant running as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Logically, I knew it wasn’t fair to lump all wealthy people in the same category as my maternal grandparents; who’d been more concerned about their social status than their own flesh and blood. But in my limited experience, money represented power; the kind which made the wealthy believe they were somehow better than everyone else on the planet. Or in the case of Chase McArthur, it afforded him the ability to ruin the lives of anyone who crossed him.

The only proof I had was a strong gut feeling he was behind my expulsion from school. It was all too coincidental. First, the attack, which was swept under the rug by campus security as a miscommunication. Then less than two weeks later, I was escorted off school grounds by the same officer.

Nope, I didn’t believe in coincidences.

Keaton Clarke was different though. I couldn’t tell you how I knew for certain, just that I did. From our first interaction, he’d gone out of his way to make sure I was safe, even offering up his own bedroom. There was something about him that called to me on a deeper level; some kind of inexplicable attraction between us. I should steer clear, but curiosity had me wanting to know more about my mysterious FBI agent.

Over Easy was, once again, filled to capacity as I strolled through the door a little before ten. The small diner was a favorite among the locals and college students alike, mostly because everything we served was fresh and homemade, rather than the prepackaged garbage other places sold.

“Morning, Sweety,” Betsy singsonged, while carrying a pot of coffee across the room.

“Good morning.”

“It is indeed.” Shirley appeared at my side. “Henley, meet Jade. Jade, this is Henley.”

The woman was about my age, with long wavy, deep brown hair she’d pulled back in a low ponytail at the base of her neck. Her chocolate-brown eyes held a hint of apprehension in them as she reached out to take my outstretched hand.

“Nice to meet you,” I offered.

“Same.”

“Jade is our newest waitress. I figured you could show her the ropes.”

“Awesome. Let’s get started. ”

Within fifteen minutes, it became glaringly obvious Jade had never waitressed before, however, she was a fast learner. It only took one near-spill for her to understand the importance of spreading the drinks out on the carrying tray evenly. Balance was everything.

“Have you lived in Huntington long?” I asked when we sat in an empty booth to take our afternoon break.

Nodding her head, she responded, “For a few years.”

It’d been the same all morning; short, clipped answers. I didn’t get the impression she was trying to hide anything, more like she didn’t know how much of herself to give away.

Folding my hands in front of me on the table, I took a chance. “I moved here after my mom died to go to school. Those plans have been put on hold for the time being, so…”

“It’s just me and my little brother, Jett, now,” she said quietly.

“Where are your parents?”

Jade unwrapped her silverware and began to nervously shred the napkin they were held in. Tiny bits of the paper floated to the table as I waited to see if she would answer or tell me to mind my own business.

“They should never have had kids. Sometimes, I think the only reason they did was for the tax deduction.”

“You don’t?—”

“No. It’s fine. Truly.” She swallowed roughly. “On my eighteenth birthday, I found a note on the kitchen counter saying Jett was my responsibility now, along with paperwork giving me guardianship over him.”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah. Like I said, they should never have had kids. Anyway, I called our grandma—our mom’s mom—and she drove all night to come get us. We packed up everything we could, then came to live with her here. She died last year. Heart attack.”

“Damn, Jade. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m not. Jett is my whole world, even when he’s being a little shit.”

We both laughed. Looking at the clock on the wall, I started digging into my chicken Caesar salad, realizing we only had fifteen minutes left until our break was over. Jade did the same.

Once we finished, it was time to get back to work, however, while we cleaned off the table, another question came to mind.

“How old is Jett?”

“He’s almost sixteen. I’m twenty-two.”

Damn.

We steamrolled through the remainder of the lunch and early dinner rush without any major mishaps; laughing and carrying on as if we’d known each other for years rather than a couple of hours. Maybe it was because we both shared less than stellar childhoods that I found myself revealing bits and pieces of my past with her; excluding my time at Marshall. I wasn’t ready to go there yet.

When six o’clock rolled around without a word from Keaton, disappointment rolled around in my belly like a tidal wave, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. His job was important, way more important than keeping a promise to some girl he’d just met.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, I startled when I saw him leaning up against a black SUV on the curb.

“I texted,” his deep voice cut through the slight breeze, “but since I didn’t hear anything back from you, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“Crap.” Reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, I pulled out my phone…my very dead phone. “I forgot to charge it.”

Pushing off the vehicle, he snatched the cheap plastic device out of my hand. “Christ. I forgot you had this piece of shit.”

“Hey! Give it back.”

“I didn’t think they still made flip phones.” He eyed it reverently; opening and closing the front multiple times before apologizing, then holding it out for me.

“So if you thought I’d changed my mind, why show up here?”

Catching our reflection out of my periphery in the front window, which ran the length of Over Easy, I felt tiny in comparison to his large, muscular frame. The size difference alone was almost comical, yet instinctively I knew he’d never use it to his advantage in a harmful way.

“I was prepared to beg.” He shrugged.

A howl of laughter escaped my mouth before I could stop it as I imagined him on his knees…begging. Those thoughts quickly turned X-rated as I pictured him on his knees for a whole other reason.

“I’d love to know what caused that pretty blush just now, baby, but it appears we have an audience.”

Turning my head to the left, I saw he was correct. Shirley, Betsy, and Mitzy had plastered themselves so close to the window, their mingled breaths were fogging up the glass. I wiggled my fingers at them, in a sort of half-wave, then rolled my eyes when they returned my gesture with two thumbs-up each.

“Seems we have their approval. Shall we?” Keaton held out his arm, slightly bent.

Wrapping my hand near his elbow, I gazed into his ebony eyes when I replied, “Absolutely. ”

After ushering me into the passenger seat of his SUV and asking my preference for dinner, we took the short drive to Gino’s, a small pizzeria. I’d never been there before, however Keaton said they made the best deep-dish he’d ever eaten and if the aromas coming from the kitchen were anything to go by, he wasn’t wrong. We ordered a large pepperoni, half with mushroom, two waters, and a side salad for each of us to start. The waitress placed our drinks, along with a large plastic container filled with fresh greens, cherry tomatoes, sliced cucumbers and onions, and two smaller bowls plus a pitcher of house dressing on the table, before she moved on to the next customer. I was starving, so I reached for the tongs, heaping a healthy size portion in both our dishes before slathering mine in the creamy goodness.

“Hungry?” Keaton chuckled.

Holding up one finger, I finished chewing what was in my mouth before answering. “Very. Sorry, I probably should’ve waited. I’m not very good with this kinda stuff.”

“What kinda stuff?” He took a bite of his salad.

“Whatever this” —waving my hand with the fork back and forth between us; flinging a tomato across the table in the process—“is. See? Jesus! What is wrong with me?”

Scrambling, I tried to snatch the little red demon vegetable before it rolled off the table, only to have my fingers grasped between his.

“Henley, baby, look at me.” I did, which was a huge mistake. I became enthralled by how his facial hair curved downward to match the intense expression on his face and the way his gaze narrowed on mine, like I was the only thing he saw. It was—no— he was mesmerizing. “It’s just the two of us here. I told you I wanted to know everything about you. If that includes you being a klutz, then it’s better I find out on our first date so I can invest in bubble wrap before our second.”

Holy shit.

Breathing became nearly impossible as his words bounced around in my head; the implications bringing hope to my wounded soul. Not only did he consider this a date, he was already thinking about a repeat.

“As much as I’ve dreamed of getting my lips on you, Little Bird…” He squeezed my hand. “…giving you mouth-to-mouth is not what I had in mind. Take a breath.”

The demanding tone penetrated my momentary panic. Inhaling deeply through my nose, oxygen poured into my lungs, easing the growing tightness in my chest.

“S-second?” I stuttered.

His lips twitched, then slid up at the corners, rewarding me with a gentle grin. “What exactly do you think is happening between us, Henley?”

“I don’t want to assume anything. I’m trying to break myself of that particular habit.”

“Assumptions and I have a long-running, toxic relationship. I’ll tell you about it someday. As for you and me, I’d like to see where this goes, if you’re willing.”

“Why? I mean I know I’m not hideous to look at, but my life is a dumpster fire in the middle of an epic drought, whereas you have your shit together. You’re a big shot FBI agent and I’m a part-time waitress, living out of my car all because some guy with an ego bigger than his bank account wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Shut up, Henley!

Unfortunately, the little voice in my head was too late to stop my ramblings, and I knew it the moment Keaton’s facial expressions morphed from amused to pissed-the-fuck-off. It was a scary transformation, but I wasn’t afraid of him.

“This is the second time you’ve made reference to a man in regards to your troubles. I need you to explain.”

There was an edge to his voice, an icy hardness which induced both a full body shiver and dampness to pool between my thighs. I should not have been turned on by his demand, yet the state of my panties proved otherwise. The only question was, how much should I tell him?

I tried to pull my hand away, deciding a little separation was in order, except he threaded our fingers together rather than letting go.

“You’re safe with me, Henley.”

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t my safety I was worried about. The damage to my reputation had already been delivered in a fancy package with a big ole “fuck you” bow on top. No, my apprehension sprawled squarely between a rock and a hard place. What if he didn’t believe me? Then again, what if he did? Either result would be equally terrifying. Still, if I wished to have any kind of relationship with this man, he deserved to know the truth.

“There was a guy at school who asked me out repeatedly…actually almost daily for months. I always said no, because I was too busy trying to graduate, plus he kinda gave me the creeps. Apparently, he wasn’t used to being turned down.”

My palms began to sweat and my heart rate spiked just thinking about the next part. Keaton stood, sliding in next to me when my body started to tremble. He raised his arm, then paused, giving me the opportunity to say no. At my nod, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his warmth and comfort. Blowing out a ragged breath, I forged onward.

“One night when I was walking back to my dorm, he tried again to get me to go out on a date. This time when I said no, he dragged me into a wooded area and attacked me.”

Keaton stiffened, his grip around me turning almost painful.

“Did he?—”

“No,” I shook my head against the onslaught of memories; a tear sliding down my cheek. Swallowing down the urge to vomit, I continued, “I fought him off.”

“Brave girl.”

“Anyway, I went to campus security but it was his word against mine, and considering his last name is plastered across several buildings at school, I’ll give you one guess who they believed.”

“Son of a bitch.” He smacked his heavy palm down onto the table top. “No investigation? They just believed that motherfucker?”

Fury emanated from his pores, like he was preparing to take on the world in my defense. Normally, an outburst such as his would have me running for the hills. The difference was I knew his outrage was on my behalf, not directed at me. It was then I realized this man had the power to become my everything.

“The following week, I was pulled into the dean’s office and expelled for plagiarism, which you already know.” Chancing a look, I turned my head and met his stormy eyes. “It can’t be a coincidence, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Leaning down, he placed his lips on my forehead and growled, “Now, what’s his name?”