Chapter 12 Willow
WILLOW
Getting off the bus to head to campus in new clothes feels… weird.
Not in a bad way, just in the way that I haven’t bought new clothes for myself in a long time. I was making do with clothes that were threadbare and stained and worn out because that’s all I had.
Even buying these clothes for myself felt like a luxury.
For a while, I barely touched the money that appeared like magic in my account.
I think a part of me was afraid that it was going to disappear overnight, or that it was some kind of trap that would spring the second I let myself buy anything with it.
But the longer it sat there, untouched, the harder it was to ignore, and eventually I gave in and let myself use it, just a little.
In a way, it’s like taking a tiny bit of my power back. I have no control over the men invading my life, but at least I can better my own situation as long as it lasts.
That’s something.
When I walk past the quad where most of the students are gathered between classes, April and her usual group are there, holding court.
One of her flunkies notices me and whispers something in April’s ear, making her turn to look at me.
Her gaze flashes over me quickly and then slower, taking me in from head to toe and then back again.
“Wow,” she says. “You look good in that skirt.”
I can tell she doesn’t mean it, but I don’t feel like getting into shit with her today, so I just keep walking, ignoring her entirely.
“Huh. New clothes for Willow,” she continues, raising her voice enough that I can still hear her even as I stride away. “I wonder how she got the money to afford stuff like that.”
“Maybe she got a new job,” one of her friends says loudly.
“Yeah, right.” April gives a short laugh. “I bet her knees are sore from her new ‘job.’ Maybe that’s why the skirt is so long. To cover up the bruises.”
I freeze in place, picking up on the heavy-handed implication that I whored myself out to afford new clothes. My hand clenches into a fist, and I want to whip around and drive my knuckles into April’s face.
But I don’t.
It’s too close to the truth. I remember being forced onto my knees by that Russian man, and how he shoved his cock into my mouth. I remember why I was there in the first place, and what I was going to do before those three men burst in and killed him.
Admitting how close I came to hooking makes me burn with shame. And I know I shouldn’t mention anything that could tie me even loosely to the whorehouse and the men who burst in.
My life literally does depend on keeping that secret.
So while April and her group laugh and toss around ideas for how much I might charge for various ‘services,’ I force myself to walk away with my spine straight.
I do my best to shove all the disgusting shit they were saying out of my head as I focus on my classes, and by the time I leave the large lecture hall where I have my last class, I feel a bit better.
I pause on the steps of the building, tilting my head up toward the sun and letting the rays warm my face, but when I shift my gaze straight ahead again, I almost fall down the rest of the stairs.
Ransom is standing on the walkway in front of me, his hands shoved into his pockets.
I grip the metal railing that runs up the stairs, steadying myself to keep from tripping as I continue walking. Without me even consciously telling them to, my feet start to carry me in his direction.
It’s half because I feel a weird pull toward him—and on top of that, there’s a terrifying thought in my head that if I turn and run, he would chase me down.
Turning my back on any of these men seems like a very bad idea.
As I get close, I can see him looking me over. His eyes move from head to toe and then back up, and there’s a small smile on his handsome face.
“New outfit?” he asks. “It looks good on you.”
I blush, my skin heating. Coming from his mouth, it doesn’t sound anything like the way it did when April said it.
“What do you want?” I ask, trying to get right to the point. I hate how flustered I get around him.
“Walk with me,” he says.
It’s not really a request, so I nod, falling into step with him.
As we make our way across campus, I notice heads turning to look at us, which feels… strange. I’m used to being mostly invisible to people, but now we’re turning heads.
Or more accurately, Ransom is turning heads.
Several girls openly ogle him, and some of them shoot me jealous looks as I walk beside him. Of course, none of them have any idea what the real situation is here, or maybe they wouldn’t be so jealous.
“How much longer is this going to go on?” I ask after a moment.
I don’t point out that Malice said I wasn’t going to see any of them again, and here one of them is.
Even after he said that, I was pretty sure they were still following me anyway.
“How much longer are you going to be keeping tabs on me? Haven’t I proved by now that I’m not going to tell anyone what I saw? ”
Ransom shrugs. “Everything seems in the clear right now, but in our line of work, assuming that peace and quiet are the same things is pretty fucking dumb. It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”
I shiver at the casual way he talks about death. Like it’s just such a constant and accepted part of his life. Considering how they took down the Russian without batting an eye, maybe it is.
But I shake myself, getting back to the matter at hand. “Will it ever be enough then? Will enough time ever go by that you’ll feel confident no one is looking for answers anymore?”
When Ransom doesn’t answer, I glance over at him. There’s a grim look on his face, and it pretty much says all it needs to. It seems like the answer is a firm no.
My stomach twists around itself a little, and I try to shake back the tide of nausea that wants to rise up.
“So,” Ransom says, changing the subject abruptly. “How are classes going for you?”
I blink. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing. I’m just surprised you care one way or the other.”
He shrugs again. “Well, you made such a big deal about getting tuition for college, so I figured it’s important to you. Are you one of those people who just loves school or something like that?”
I chew on my lip, trying to think of how to answer that.
“It’s not that I love it,” I tell him. “It’s that it’s my chance to make a better life for myself.”
I realize a beat later that I really didn’t mean to say that much. I could have just told him that yeah, I love school, and moved on. But somehow, the truth just came spilling out of me.
Ransom nods thoughtfully. “I get that. I guess that’s what everyone wants, in one way or another.
It’s what I want for my family—for my brothers.
” He chuckles wryly. “We’re going about it a different way than you are, I suppose.
But at the end of the day, I just want us all to be better off than we were before. ”
“Yeah. Me too.” I swallow, a little unnerved by how well he seems to understand me.
We keep walking until we reach a spot where a motorcycle is parked by the side of the road on the west side of campus.
Ransom gets on it, swinging his leg over the side and settling in. He winks at me with a little smirk.
“Well, I’m out. Be good, angel.”
I frown. “Wait a minute. What did you come here for? You never told me. Did you need to tell me something?”
His blue-green eyes flash up and meet mine, and the smirk dims down into something else. Something not quite soft, but not as hard-edged either. “No. I just wanted to see you.”
“You see me all the time,” I reply, deciding to use this chance to test my little theory that they’re still stalking me.
He grins, and something in his expression confirms that I was right. Even though I haven’t seen them in weeks, that doesn’t mean they haven’t been around.
“Good point. I guess I just wanted you to see me,” he says softly.
He revs the motorcycle then, giving me one last look before he peels out.
For a second, all I can do is stare after him as he rides away, gunning the engine and rolling smoothly down the road. I feel stunned by his answer, because what does that even mean?
Was he trying to intimidate me the way Malice did the one time he showed up on my campus? It doesn’t really seem like it. It’s almost like he just stopped by to… talk to me.
But why? That makes no fucking sense.
A cab passes by on the street, probably scanning for students who just got out of classes, and before I can think better of it, I raise my hand to flag it down. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I give the driver directions, telling him to head in the direction Ransom took.
He got a head start, so we drive for almost a minute without seeing him, but then we turn down a new street, and I see his bike up ahead.
“Follow that motorcycle,” I tell the driver in a rush, feeling a bit insane.
He glances over his shoulder at me, his eyebrows climbing up into his hairline. “Are you fucking kidding me? What is this, a spy movie? Jesus, girlie, I’m not gonna—”
I cut him off by pulling a wad of cash out of my bag and shoving it at him. “I’ll pay you extra.”
He looks at the money, then at me. Then back up to where Ransom is riding his bike several blocks ahead of us. With a little curse under his breath, the driver grabs the cash and keeps going.
I sink down in the back seat just in case, my heart thudding. Every time Ransom turns, the driver follows his path, and the driver keeps enough distance between us that I don’t think Ransom will figure out he’s being followed.
There are a couple of times when we almost lose him because we don’t want to get too close, but eventually, I see him pull his motorcycle into a nondescript building several blocks ahead.
It looks like it might have been some kind of factory or warehouse once, but now there’s no telling what it is.
“So, are we stopping here?” the driver drawls, arching a brow at me in the rearview mirror.