Chapter 5 #2
War’s broad back remains to me as he speaks. “Ashling, if you know and won’t tell me, tell J.”
“So Jamie can tell you later?” I scoff. “Listen, I don’t know what he meant. I don’t party with those Beta House guys. Most of them rub me the wrong way with their smug, blue-blood entitlement.” Chewing on my lower lip, I glance at Jamie. “I did meet Crosby through Madelyn Hearn.”
Sawyer’s brows knit. “Hey, was it Madelyn’s house that we went to the time we were chased by the tatted guys in black that you thought might be Russian Mafia?”
“What?” Jamie says at the same moment War turns to stare at me.
Oh fuck. I forgot we were chased away from Maddie’s house by those possible Bratva guys. That isn’t something I want to discuss in front of War because it’ll lead back to a certain alley where he caught a bullet.
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. But that’s got nothing to do with Crosby… I mean, I don’t think it does.” Leaning back on my stool, I glance up at the ceiling thoughtfully.
“Hey.” War’s menacing voice would scare a Rottweiler.
I lower my gaze to lock eyes with him. “Nice tone.”
“Details.” His eyes could burn holes through a skull. “Start at the beginning. Leave nothing out.”
A memory courses through me like an electric shock.
One of Connor speaking to a Crue guy about an incident and demanding details in the exact same way right before I was ushered out.
The incident was one I was involved in, but of course, no one talked to me that way.
I was served hot cocoa with marshmallows when Trick questioned me.
And what was my nickname after that? “Baby G.” The G stands for gunslinger or gangster.
I thought it was cute and kind of cool that I’d finally gotten a nickname, like so many of the guys in the Crue.
But until now, I’ve never been talked to as though I’m anything but a teen girl who needs to be shielded from the cold, hard truths of life in a crime syndicate. Not even when I’ve been the one wielding a gun.
“Look, I’ve already told Scott about the Bratva guys being on campus. He thinks they’re probably hovering around GU because Ilya Petrov’s younger brother goes to school here. Do you know who he is?”
War says yes at the same time Jamie says no. Without a word, War turns back to the stove. I turn toward Jamie so my knees bump against the side of his chair.
“I’d never heard of him either. Ilya Petrov’s a big New York Bratva guy, apparently.
The younger brother isn’t in the business.
Or at least not yet. He’s here studying finance or something.
” Rubbing my lower lip with my thumb, I reflect on the fact that I really need some lip balm.
“I don’t know why the enforcers were looking for Madelyn.
Or why they chased me for being in her house.
Maybe she hooked up with the Petrov brother or even the main guy.
She was pretty wild. But I never saw anyone come to the house to pick her up.
She wasn’t in a relationship. If she did hook up with the younger brother, she might have stolen money or something from him.
I found out the hard way she has a tendency to help herself to the contents of people’s wallets.
“Her parents cut her off when she flunked out last semester. Her rent was already covered for the year, but she was broke all the time. Anytime I ran into her on campus, she wanted me to cover her bar tab. And that was after she stole four hundred dollars from my purse, and after I was already paying her way too much to crash at her place.” Rolling my eyes, I exhale a small huff.
“Her drama got on my nerves after a while. It’s why I finally broke down and moved into the dorm. ”
“You tell Trick she stole your money?” War asks as he puts a delicious-looking Western omelette on a plate.
“Who’s that for?” I ask, my stomach growling loud enough to wake the dead.
“Your cousin.” War drops the dish in front of Jamie.
“I don’t see why. I’m starving, and you’re always giving me a hard time for being so skinny. Which of us is likely to faint from starvation first? Me? Or Mr. Olympic rower?”
“Here,” Jamie says, sliding the plate in front of me. “Make Sawyer’s next, then mine and yours. ”
War scowls at me as I pick up a fork.
“May I have a napkin?” I ask, mock innocent, just to see whether I can get him to explode.
“Fucking spoiled,” War mutters, ignoring my request for a napkin, which are within arm’s reach for him because everything’s within arm’s reach when you’re a giant.
“No worries,” I say, taking a bite of the delicious, perfectly-seasoned omelette. Hopping up as I chew, I round the counter to grab a stack of napkins. The second I’m in his personal space, he pushes me out of it, grabs a handful of napkins and throws them on the island behind us.
“Fucking contrary,” I hurl at him, mimicking his tone. “You make me get up and then give them to us anyway?”
Jamie sighs. I don’t blame him. He’s caught in the middle.
I don’t understand what War’s deal is. Or what mine is when it comes to him. Before he showed up on the scene, there wasn’t one person I couldn’t get along with. Not that I want to be besties with everyone who crosses my path, but if I try, I can always make someone like me. Until now.
“And another thing,” I say coolly, between savory bites. “Stop picking me up like luggage. If you feel the need to get in fights, be my guest, but leave me out of it.”
His attention sharpens like a blade. I can tell by the set of his shoulders, he’s pissed.
“Leave you out of it?” Jamie says, tone ripe with bewilderment. “You’ve been the cause of every fight we’ve been in since we got here.”
“Really?” Waiting for my feigned innocence to rile War beyond endurance, I’m once again disappointed. And confused. Sometimes, his rage burns so hot I could walk outside without a coat. Others, it seems locked down, as though he’s holding the simmering anger deep inside. It’s fascinating.
War lifts his head and stares out the window where chunks of river ice slide past. I’m jealous of the view from this house. My dorm window overlooks the campus’s west side. Zero view of the Tyne River.
Now War’s living here alone, so I’ll have way less opportunity to visit.
I glance at him, clocking only silence and stillness. Whatever’s on War’s mind, he’s keeping to himself.
And apparently, no game I play will get a rise out of him when he’s got more serious things in his head. Shame.