Page 79 of The Kingpin's Call Girl

My phone shows a zillion texts from Bender.

He wants to meet, of course, in the same part of the park where we met before, and he has my class schedule, so there’s no way I can put him off.

We set the meet and I go to classes, barely making my eleven fifteen art history course.

I settle into the dark auditorium that smells of sour candies and body spray and try to concentrate on the pottery fragments that flash up on the screen.

You were a good lay, but it’s gone on too long.

Luka went on a bloodthirsty rampage and enjoyed it, I remind myself. He’s practically a mass murderer.

And I slept with him. Scratch that—I loved sleeping with him. And if I’m honest with myself, I’m glad he yanked out that man’s windpipe with his bare hands.

The guy deserved it from the sound of it.

The slide on the screen switches. Another pottery fragment from a famous excavation of the catacombs below Rome. I try to focus. I was excited about this area of knowledge because of the way it showed a transition of style.

Now I feel... empty.

I slide my finger over my chin and a tender, nearly raw area—a whisker burn. I’m back in bed with his coarse whiskers against my skin and his thick fingers between my legs, getting me off.

Do you know what it feels like to take a man’s life with your bare hands? It feels fucking amazing.

I’d be tempted to think it was a wild tale except for the scars andthe fact that he and Orton spoke in Latin when they were planning the Razvan meeting. Latin is exactly what a strict and retrograde school teaches. And clearly, they believed in extreme forms of punishment.

I decide not to tell Bender any of it. No way will he know what was said in that room. The original Lazarus gossip seemed like public knowledge, at least for these Albanian clan guys, but planning a secret meeting? I won’t tell.

The school stuff feels private, too. Like a secret he told me, even if it was part of an angry outburst designed to drive me off.

It’s so Luka. He doesn’t get close to people. Everything needs to be a transaction, and as soon as somebody gives a shit, he goes feral.

No, Bender doesn’t get any of it, and I don’t care. I’ve already given him more than he could ever have dreamed. And Luka and I are done now, and it really is for the best.

I sit in the darkened room looking at slides of Roman pottery, but I feel him all over my skin.

The student next to me scribbles furiously. Damn. What am I missing? I lean over, trying to read what she’s writing. I can’t see. The professor drones on. I start writing whatever he says. Usually, I can tell if it’s important. Now I can’t.

I scribble senselessly.

Chapter Thirty

EDIE

Bender is at the fountain when I get there at one, but he ignores me.

I fish in my pocket for a penny, fingers trembling slightly as they close around the cold, worn metal. For a moment, I just hold it, rubbing my thumb over Lincoln’s faded profile. Then I toss it into the water. I don’t wish for him to come back to me or for the ache in my chest to subside. Instead, I close my eyes and wish for Luka’s scars to fade from wounds to memories. For him to know happiness, even if I’m not there to see it.

The penny sinks out of sight.

He sidles up, not even looking at me. “You’re late.”

“I came as fast as I could.” His map today was like a maze around random blocks and through a random store.

“What happened at the hotel?”

“It was just a hookup. And he doesn’t want to see me again. We’re finished.”

“Did you do something to turn him off?”

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