Page 50 of Beware of Dog

It was such an absurd overreaction that a laugh bubbled in her throat. She dashed at her eyes, and shook her head. “Nothing. Girl stuff.” She shoved his shoulder in a fruitless attempt to move him closer to the door. “Let’s go.”

He gave her a long, unconvinced look. “How bad are things at school? Kids giving you shit? You don’t want to go back to your dorm, is that it?”

Shedidn’twant to go back to her dorm, but that had nothing to do with her current state.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to seize on it, though.

She searched his face. “If I wanted to go back to the club flat instead, would that be okay?”

He nodded. A muscle in his jaw leaped, even as his eyes softened. “Yeah. Come on.”

She went.

Fourteen

The club apartment had one bedroom set up not as a bunk room, but as a real bedroom: double bed, dresser, even a nightstand with a lamp. That was where Shep had been sleeping while he stayed in the city. He was having trouble falling asleep tonight, however. He lay on his back, arms folded behind his head, staring at a water stain on the ceiling that he probably ought to call the super about.

In the relative safety of a private room with a closed door, with night pressed down on the city, dark and heavy as a quilt, unnatural light from the building across the street throwing slatted blind shadows on the far wall, he could admit, at least to himself, something he could no longer pretend wasn’t happening: he wanted Cassandra.

To be crass, he wanted to fuck, yeah. But not because he was bored, or curious, or because she was convenient. She was nineteen, and veryinconvenient considering her dad and brothers were trained assassins, and she was club family besides. Hooking up with her was not,could notbe a one-time thing, not given his level of emotional investment, but it would cause the kind of scandal that fractured families and upended MCs.

He had the stupid, teenage butterflies, sure, the sweaty palms, but it was more than that. He wanted to watch terrible reality TV with her. Wanted to put food on her plate and watch her nod her approval when she ate what he’d made for her. Wanted to hear her deep-breathing on the neighboring pillow and know she was safe; that he could close his eyes, and drift off, and that he’d be between her and whatever terrible thing might kick down the door. Wanted her on the back of his bike. Wantedhis name inked on her somewhere that others could see it, and know she was taken. He wanted her to be his. In every way that counted. And he damn sure didn’t want to have to drop her back off at her dorm, even if that was the best thing for her.

Damn. He guessed he loved her.

He knew he did. Of course.

But he guessed he wasinlove with her.

He’d never experienced that before, and so it had taken him a stupidly long time to realize that was what he was doing: falling. Like an actual, physical fall, he expected the landing to hurt.

How was he going to explain himself to Raven.Yeah, so, I’m in love with your sister, and, no, it totally doesn’t matter that she’s nineteen, and still in school, and listens to Korean pop music. Age is just a number or whatever, right? Promise I won’t cheat on her or knock her up too soon.Toly, the dumb shit, couldn’t afford a pair of jeans without holes in them, but he’d put a rock the size of a Mini Cooper on Raven’s finger—to make up for his joyless personality, Shep had always assumed. That thing would tear his face open when she slapped him.

Jesus. Like he had room to call Toly a dumb shit.

He punched his pillow, rolled over, and told himself to go the hell to sleep until he finally did so.

~*~

Cass’s first class of the day wasn’t until two, so she didn’t understand why her phone woke her while the sky was still orangey pink with dawn.

She hadn’t slept well, plagued by distracting thoughts of her last glimpse of Shep before she’d gone into the bunk room. His threadbare white t-shirt, low-slung gray sweats cut off raggedly at the knees, his bony, oddly graceful bare feet on the beige carpet. He’d scratched at his stomach, which made hisshirt ride up a little more—proving he didn’t shave his treasure trail like the guys on her favorite dating show—and said, “Need anything?”

The first thought that sprang to her mind wasn’t one she could say out loud, so she’d said, “Nope, night,” and caught his bewildered expression before she shut the bedroom door.

She tossed, and turned, and when her alarm blared, she flailed over the side of the bed so long the alarm finally snoozed itself. She nabbed it, rolled over with a groan, and blinked her eyes mostly clear so she could see to shut the alarm off properly.

Then she realized it hadn’t been the alarm, but an incoming call. From a local number she didn’t recognize.

As she peered blearily at the screen, it rang again. “What the hell?” she muttered, and answered with a swipe. “Hello?”

Silence.

“Whoever this is, are you aware that it’s six-forty-five in the morning?”

“Cass, wait, don’t hang up!” The voice was male, youthful, vaguely familiar. It wasn’t Sig; she at least could tell that much.

“Who is this?”

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