Chapter 4
BASH
The ivy-covered archway near the academic quad is quiet now that the rugby match is over.
Most of the crowd has drifted toward the frat houses or over to the ruck house where there will be parties.
I’m told that there are celebrations whether we win or not, which feels very fitting.
Jeremy who was born and raised here has been filling me in on all of the traditions.
If I wasn’t so preoccupied with, ya know, my life’s work of stalking one girl, I would really enjoy hearing about them and participating in them.
The cobblestone path is damp with the kind of Irish evening that feels like rain even when it hasn’t quite started yet.
I lean one shoulder against the cold stone and look down at my phone.
Livy and her friends are moving across campus now, the tiny square of the security camera feed showing them weaving through the crowd. Her blonde hair catches the low evening light as she walks beside Juniper and Miranda.
Ronan follows them closely, but not in a protective boyfriend kind of way. He’s trotting along like a clueless golden retriever, and I know that Miranda keeps him around because he’ll fetch whatever the girls want for them.
My jaw tightens slightly.
I already know everything there is to know about that fucker.
The research I did on Livy didn’t stop with her. Anyone who spends time around her becomes part of the picture.
Ronan sealed his fate the moment he touched her shoulder after the game tonight.
He’s lucky I’m trying to keep my identity undercover right now, because I would have done the same thing to him I did to Nathan.
Right in front of my girl. His blood would have spattered up on her while I beat him to death for daring to touch what’s mine.
And then I would have beat his lifeless body some more.
I saw red as soon as his hand made contact with her, but then she moved away from him. That wasn’t for my benefit.
Livingston was subtle about it, but I saw it.
That tells me everything I need to know.
She doesn’t want him touching her.
Which means the next time I get the opportunity, I’ll deal with the rowing champ myself.
My eyes return to the screen as the group turns down the street leading toward the pub.
The Red Boot. I don’t know what the name means, but I’m sure after Jeremy has had a few pints in him, he’ll give me a whole historical background complete with pictures. He would do PowerPoint presentations, I’m sure, if he didn’t think Kalen would beat the shit out of him for being annoying.
Watching Livy like this isn’t enough for me, but it’s my only option.
Tapping into the St. Killian camera system was embarrassingly easy.
Whoever set up the security network here must’ve assumed no one would bother trying, or maybe they didn’t think anyone would have a reason.
Two hours in the research library and a little patience with their firewall was all it took.
I’d rather be close enough to put a tracker on her, or in her for that matter. A little poke of a needle in her neck, and I’d have her exact location at all times. It would be so small she’d never notice, but that requires her to be in a deep sleep or for her to agree to let me do it.
As high alert, and rightfully so, as my girl is, I don't anticipate either of those things happening any time soon.
I push off the archway and start to turn, already planning the fastest route across campus. Kalen and Jeremy are taking too long, and I don’t want to miss a minute of being in the same room as my girl.
But today is annoying, so I immediately run straight into someone who isn’t watching where the fuck they’re going.
A girl with long black hair tied into two braids hanging over her shoulders crashes into my chest like she hit a brick wall. She bounces off me and stumbles backward, landing hard on the cobblestones with a startled grunt.
My instinct should be to rush forward to help her up.
And clearly she anticipates that, because she snaps out the words, “Don’t touch me.”
She doesn’t know I’m fucked up and have no emotion or care in this world if it doesn’t involve Livy.
My brows pull together as I look down at her like she’s the rude one. I guess we both are, so I’ll call it even.
“I wasn’t going to,” I say flatly. “You bumped into me.”
She rolls her eyes like I’ve just personally offended her entire family and pushes herself up without any help from me.
Her bag has spilled half its contents onto the ground.
It’s a ragged looking canvas thing that’s seen better days.
The girl scoops everything up quickly, shoving books and loose papers back inside with quick irritated movements.
Then she huffs under her breath as she slings the strap over her shoulder.
I’m already turning away when I hear her mutter it.
“It’s always a fucking rugby player.”
I shake my head.
I don’t have time to be annoyed with whoever this bitch is.
I don’t know if she’s heard the buzz about the Americans showing up out of nowhere and hopping on the rugby team.
She might have just guessed correctly because I have a Knights hoodie on that is specific to the rugby team.
The hockey team has green ones, we have the navy blue.
The walk across campus to the pub will take less than ten minutes because in all my free time while I sit up watching Livy sleep via the cameras I made Jeremy help me install while Kalen distracted the girls with a dog he adopted for Juniper.
All that eye contact during the game and after with Livy during the match has my head spinning. I feel like I could walk to Mars, I’m that hyped up. When she caught me staring earlier, I expected her to look away like she does with everyone else.
Instead she held my gaze. It was like she didn’t even realize she was doing it. The memory makes heat spread slowly through my chest. She tries so hard to blend into the background everywhere she goes, to disappear into whatever group she’s standing with.
But she couldn’t look away from me, and made herself vulnerable because she didn’t want to break our connection. And that tells me something very important. My girl, on some level, already knows she’s my girl.
That realization hits harder than anything else today. Because if I’m being honest with myself, it also means something else. All that shit I told myself about being careful… about keeping my distance… about staying hidden while I figure out who’s looking for her information.
It’s bullshit.
I don’t want to watch her from a distance.
I want her in my arms permanently.
I still haven’t seen Kalen or Jeremy, and before I leave them I decide to check in with Caiden before I head over to the busy pub.
Caiden’s name sits at the top of the thread because I’m not a super social guy. I don’t have much to say to anyone unless it’s business related. And the one person I want to pour my heart and soul out to isn’t within my grasp just yet.
I type quickly.
Did some digging last night. Found the IP address of the person searching for Livy’s information.
I copy the string of numbers from my notes app and paste it beneath the message.
See if you can trace it.
I hit send and shove my phone back in my pocket.
It vibrates almost immediately.
That alone makes my brows pull together.
Caiden doesn’t answer messages right away.
He enjoys making people wait.
I pull the phone back out.
Caiden
Yep. Will do.
Then another message appears.
I’m sending someone your way. Don’t know when yet but I’ll let you know when he arrives. You’ll get him settled in.
Another.
And don’t fuck this up. I know about your little fight during the game today. Knock it off.
My frown deepens.
How the fuck does he know about something that happened less than an hour ago?
He was talking about Livy. If he keeps her name out of his mouth, he’ll survive.
I send the message and shove the phone back in my pocket just as two familiar figures come into view up ahead.
Kalen is walking at his usual pace, calm, steady, like nothing in the world could rush him.
He’s got the Dalmatian he rescued for Juniper walking leisurely in front of him on a bright pink harness and leash.
What did she name it again? Sprinkles? I don’t fucking know.
They must have went back to our place and picked her up after the game.
Kalen and Juniper have some kind of weird shared custody going on with the dog.
Jeremy, on the other hand, looks like an elderly man speed walking trying to find a bathroom. He looks absolutely panicked, and I don’t even need to ask why.
He’s half jogging backward while looking over his shoulder so he doesn’t trip or bump into anything.
I glance past him.
Sure enough, a small herd of female students is trailing them at a not-so-subtle distance.
“Go, go, go,” Jeremy says the moment he reaches me. “We gotta go. I’m not doing this groping shit again.”
He points dramatically behind him at the group who are all smiles.
“They ask for a picture and the next thing you know they’re rubbing my abs like I’m a fucking statue.” Jeremy somehow lowers his voice when he reaches me, though the panic in it only goes up an octave. “The last time they cornered me alone one of them tried to grab my dick, man.”
There really is an ‘I want to fuck Jeremy Bennett club’ I suppose.
The sight of a six-foot-six Irish rugby player in full blown panic over a group of girls who are quite literally half his size is something I never thought I’d see. He could probably wipe all of them out with one kick of his massive leg, and that sends a laugh ripping straight out of my chest.
Jeremy scowls at me.
“It’s not fucking funny, Bash.”
He gestures at himself and then at me, “Let them paw at your junk and see how much you like it.”
Kalen finally reaches us, glancing once over his shoulder at the approaching girls.
His expression barely changes, but he does raise his voice a bit.
“I’ll slap the shit out of anyone who touches me trying to get to him,” he says dryly.
Kalen’s accent is lighter than Jeremy’s, though I know it’s deliberate.
His mother is Irish, father speaks Italian and English, and the guy grew up bouncing between elite boarding schools all over the world. He slips between accents as often as most people change their shirts.
Sometimes he sounds American.
Sometimes fully Irish.
Sometimes he speaks the italian language in a way that you’d swear he was born and raise in Milan.
It depends on who he’s talking to, and while I haven’t spent much time with her, Juniper does the same thing.
The two of them have this strange way of existing in their own little orbit, like the rest of us are just visiting their world for a while.
My laughter gets worse when one of the women following my roommates yells, “Don’t cockblock us, we just want to talk to him.”
Kalen looks at me like he’s considering hitting me himself if I don’t stop laughing.
“Cock. Did you hear her? She wants to touch my cock. HURRY UP,” Jeremy says, covering his crotch with one hand and then turning to walk away from us, not looking back to see if Kalen and I are following him.
This only makes me laugh harder, but we do follow him at a more socially acceptable pace. Sprinkles or whatever the fuck her name is looks up at me and huffs.
The feeling is mutual, and I let her know by scrunching my face up at her.
I feel a little delirious, and I’m pretty sure it has everything to do with the fact that my songbird couldn’t keep her eyes off me earlier.
I will bring that up, even in my own thoughts, every chance I get.
A win is a win, and today feels like I won the fucking Superbowl and I haven’t even touched her yet.
When The Red Boot sign comes into view as we round the next corner, I slow slightly, forcing myself to breathe and settle.
I need to be composed. I need to play this right.
If I’m going to keep Livy safe…If I’m going to hold her in my arms…
If I’m going to have her naked in my bed beneath me…
I can’t afford to lose control again tonight.
But I can’t make any promises.