Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"Unless I'm under arrest, I'm not going with you," I tell him, squaring my jaw.
His gaze drifts upward. "I should arrest you," he mutters. "At least then your ass would stay where I tell you to."
I narrow my eyes at him.
"Don't look at me like that. You ran off to Los Angeles alone. I'm so pissed I could bend you over and spank your ass right here."
I'm fairly sure he means it, if the expression on his face―half frustrated scowl, half wicked smirk―is any indication. The thought sends another little thrill through me, but I stave it off, refusing to budge until I do what I came here to do.
"I know you told me not to leave San Francisco, and I'm sorry for ignoring you, but I didn't have a choice," I say, my voice soft and sincere. "I need to find out the truth before I go to prison for a crime I didn't commit."
Cam stares at me in silence for a long moment. "You think that's why I'm pissed?"
"Isn't it?"
He says nothing, but he doesn't have to. I know that's not the only reason he's angry with me. I dumped him over the phone without explanation, and then ran off on my own. Before I can find the nerve to broach that particular topic, though, he sighs heavily and mutters under his breath. All I manage to catch is the word kitten, and what is quite possibly another threat to spank my ass.
"What's your plan?" he asks then.
I blink at him. "What?"
"Your plan. I assume that's why you're here." He arches a brow at me, the corner of his lips tilting upward. The cocky bastard is laughing at me again.
"Yes," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest when he lets me go. "Of course I have a plan."
He eyes me silently and then twirls his finger in a hurry it up motion.
"Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?" I ask, rolling my eyes at him.
His smile grows.
"I'm leaving now." I brush past him, headed toward the Court of Sciences and Boelter Hall. When he falls into step beside me, I sigh in relief. As crazy as he makes me, he has a badge and I don't. I have a feeling people are going to be a lot more willing to answer his questions than they would be mine.
When we arrive at Boelter Hall a few minutes later, classes are just letting out. A steady stream of students enter and exit through the two sets of double doors. The branches of two massive trees hang over the entrance, casting it in shade. Two boys sit beside an attractive young brunette on the low wall announcing the name of the building. They're arguing back and forth about something. She's completely oblivious to them, her gaze riveted to the textbook in her hands.
"Excuse me," Cam says, stepping in front of the group. He holds up his badge before letting it fall against his chest again. "My name is Detective Lewis with the San Francisco Police Department. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your classmate, Rory Clark."
The girl lifts her gaze from her book and blinks, her mouth open in a little 'O' of surprise as she takes in Cam in all his tattooed, casual sexiness.
"Sure," one guy says, taking his glasses off and then putting them right back on. He turns to look at me, his gaze roving over my face before he dismisses me as unimportant and turns back to Cam. "I'm Adam. This is Penny, and Jonathan. How can we help?"
A couple of students passing by slow as if to listen in to our conversation but hurry their steps when they notice me standing there. I'm not sure if they recognize me like the two girls from earlier did, or if they think I'm a police officer, too. I don't think I want to know.
"Did you know Mr. Clark?" Cam asks, slipping into cop mode. His expression is stoic, his gaze focused on the group before him. He tilts his body toward them like they're having an actual conversation instead of being interrogated, trying to put them at ease, I think.
I watch him quietly. He takes his job so serious. It's obvious he's good at what he does. Another pang goes through me at the thought of him losing his career because of me. Even if he won't admit it, there's a very real possibility that could happen. Especially now that they've located Rory's body in San Francisco. I've watched enough Law & Order to know that makes any sort of relationship between us not only impossible, but also dangerous for him. He has to know it, too.
And yet, he's here anyway, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind.
"We had a class together last semester," Jonathan says. "Nice guy, incredibly smart, but I didn't really know him."