Chapter 25
Kai
I’m glaring so hard at Haven as I watch her run inside the GAZ sorority house that I don’t see the police cruiser until I exit the Uber outside my frat. When I turn to climb back into the car, the Uber driver’s already pulling off, leaving me stranded.
“Fuck.”
Rain plasters my hair over my forehead, and I swipe it out of my eyes with a shaking hand as I give the cruiser a nervous scan. I glance around, and seriously consider pulling a runner. But where the fuck would I go, right?
Anyway, if someone was going to arrest me, they’d have shown up at Rooke’s house last night. Both Kruger and iPhone knew where I was.
Unless they’d decided not to snitch.
Fuck this. Ezra’s not dead, just beat up.
They won’t send me to prison for punching my brother.
Will they?
I’m soaked by the time I convince myself to go through Nu Epsilon Xi’s front door. Soon as I close the door behind me, a shiver goes through me at the strange hush. Usually, this place is noisy as fuck.
When I hear gunfire from the TV room, I relax a little.
Everyone’s probably watching a movie in there.
Perfect. I can sneak up to my room, lock the door, and pretend I never—
“There he is!”
I swing to face the archway leading into the kitchen, and my stomach flips over when I see a uniformed police officer standing by the counter.
“That’s Kai.”
Austin is sitting on one of the stools, iPhone standing a few feet away. He’d been busy on his phone—obviously—but looks up when Austin says my name.
The officer straightens a little when our eyes lock. “Kai Jordan? May I speak with you, please?”
Jesus, I don’t know what’s more terrifying.
The calm way he says my name, or how polite he sounds.
I was expecting to see Sheriff Mac. She comes round here at least once a month to cuss us out for raising hell on campus, then has a beer with us and watches a few minutes of whatever game’s on before she fucks off again.
This guy? Complete stranger.
Now I wish I’d taken my chances and run.
I drag my fingers through my hair. “Okay with you if I can catch a shower first?”
My muscles are aching from the comedown, skin hypersensitive, throat raw from...Fuck, can’t even think about that without gagging. And some mean fuck is taking a sledgehammer to my temples in rhythm with my too-fast pulse.
The officer smiles politely, like he totally fails to notice how wrecked I am.
“This’ll only take a minute.” He waves toward the kitchen stool where Austin’s lanky frame is slouched. “We’re done here,” he says, cocking his head.
Austin tucks a red curl behind his ear before tightening his arms over his chest again.
“I’ll be in touch if I have any further questions,” the officer adds more firmly when Austin stays seated.
Austin throws iPhone a look, and then struts out of the kitchen, giving me some bombastic fucking side-eye as he passes. Not surprised. Him and Jace would castrate themselves for Ezra if my brother so much as hinted at it.
“You too, Thaddeus.”
I choke on my own spit. “What the fuck?”
iPhone—fucking Thaddeus?—glares at the officer and then throws me a warning look as he rushes out of the kitchen.
“Not a word,” he mutters, pointing at me with a hard finger. “Not one fucking word.”
Jesus.
My eyes are still wide as I sit reluctantly on the stool still warm from Austin’s butt. I immediately stand up again, grimacing.
Disgusting.
I cross my arms over my chest too, then remember some bullshit about how that makes you look defensive, so I drop my hands in front of my crotch instead. I really, really wish I wasn’t wearing Rooke’s clothes right now. His smell is fucking everywhere.
I can still taste—
My ass thumps down so hard my teeth click.
The officer ignores the fact that I’m slowly going insane as he makes notes in a little black pocket book with a stub of pencil. I bet he’s gonna lick the tip any second—
Called it.
“You new here?” I ask when the tension in the room is seconds away from suffocating me. “Haven’t seen you around before.”
“You know everyone in town, Mr. Jordan?” Polite, but in a weirdly condescending way.
Damn. So much for small talk.
I give him another scan. He’s about Rooke’s age, maybe a little older. The crow’s feet beside his eyes could be from squinting in the sun, going from his tanned face. He’s got some meat on his bones, but it’s hard to tell if there’s fat or muscle under his clothes.
His uniform doesn’t look quite right either.
“You even from Agony Hollow—” I catch sight of the shiny badge on his chest. “Thatcher?”
“Deputy Thatcher,” he corrects politely.
He flips his little book closed with a flick of his wrist and gives me a wan smile. “And no, I’m not from around here. Just got in this week. Still looking for a decent cup of coffee, in fact.”
“Pie Palace.” Why not buddy up to this guy? It might just help my cause. “Not just the best coffee, but the best damn pie too.”
He tilts his head as if making a mental note.
“Where you from?” I ask, more than a little desperate to keep this guy from asking any of the questions I can see rattling around in his head.
Judging from his clean-cut look, and that momma’s boy haircut, he’s ready to go by the book. And I’m not sure what that means for me.
Dear God, don’t let this end up being something permanent on my record. I just need to keep my nose clean until I graduate, then I’ll be outta here. New job in a new city, far away from this festering outhouse in the middle of nowhere.
If this guy’s the only thing standing between me and that dazzling future, I’d better make a good impression.
“Small town. County’s lousy with them.” He shrugs. “You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“Try me.”
He considers this for a moment before changing the subject.
“Where were you last night between the hours of ten and midnight, Kai?”
“Do I need a lawyer or something?”
“You’re not under arrest.”
I almost mutter, “Yet,” but thank fuck I bite down on my lip instead.
“And?” Thatcher presses. “Your whereabouts?”
What would be the point in lying? Tons of people saw me at the Rain Dance.
I realize I’m clenching my jaw, and force my teeth apart. “In the woods. At the dance.”
Thatcher doesn’t make a note in his book. Guess he doesn’t have to, because he already knew.
“I’ve got multiple witnesses confirming you assaulted your brother at a party in the woods last night.”
Fuck. I thought I was winning him over, then he uses a word like ‘assaulted’.
I flick wet hair out of my face. Rooke’s damp clothes itch against my skin, but I force myself not to scratch in case the cop thinks I’m doing drugs and wants to get me tested.
MDMA, coke, and weed, bruh.
Jesus. I realize I’m gripping my elbows, but it’s better than fidgeting. Better than scratching like a fucking junkie.
“Anyone mention the shit that went down before the alleged ‘assault’?” I put it in air quotes, because fuck it makes me mad even thinking back to last night.
Before I followed Rooke back to his place.
Before I let him manipulate me into tying Haven to his bed.
Before we both fucked her and—
My face is suddenly hot, and I hope to God Thatcher sees it as anger, not guilt.
“What ‘shit’ would this be?” Thatcher asks, putting the word in air quotes too. Dude isn’t even sarcastic about it.
This guy.
“How Ezra put a collar around Ha—” I clear my throat. “Some girl’s neck, dragged her onto the DJ stand, and made her eat dog food in front of everybody?”
Thatcher takes his notebook out again and flips it open without breaking eye contact. “This girl have a name?”
He licks the tip of his pencil as he waits.
“Yeah, uh…I think her name’s Haven.”
“You think?”
We stare at each other for a beat. “It’s Haven,” I mutter.
“Last name?” He ducks his head to write, glances up when I’m quiet. “Do you know her last name?”
“Um…No. She’s in Rooke’s class.” And Jesus, of course my voice breaks on his name, because just saying makes my mouth turn bitter and then sweet.
“Rooke?” He writes that down too, and fuck, it feels like fire ants are marching up my goddamn spine.
It’s the intensity in his brown eyes—a kind of fervor that makes me imagine he loves nothing more than untangling a case and following every thread right to the end.
No open loops.
What the fuck is he going to find out if he tries to unravel everything that happened last night? Haven leaving with Rooke? Me leaving with iPhone and Kruger? Me ending up at Rooke’s? Me and Haven only leaving his place this morning?
I’ve gotta make it easier for him. No need to go digging if I just hand him everything he wants, right?
I snap a finger. “Lee. I remember now. It’s Haven Lee. She, uh, we used to be friends. Waaay back. Like elementary school.” I wave my hand, trying to sound dismissive.
Easier said than done when I have hundreds of photos of her on my phone. A phone that’s growing warmer in my pocket, like it’s about to catch fire.
“Ezra’s been bullying her,” I blurt out. “She got into college on a grant, and he’s convinced she’s just eating up school funds. That she doesn’t deserve to be here.”
“That so?” Thatcher isn’t taking any more notes. There’s a stormy look in his eyes the longer I go on, this slow building up of something that might be annoyance.
Am I talking too much? Do I sound guilty? I mean, fuck, he already knows I did it.
So why hasn’t he arrested me? Or even taken me down to the sheriff’s office for questioning?
I wanna puke, and it’s got nothing to do with the aftertaste of Rooke’s cum in my mouth.
I drag a hand over my face, digging my fingers into my jaw on either side.
Why the fuck did I have to think about that? It’s bad enough these clothes reek of his cologne. That I keep forgetting to breathe through my mouth so I don’t smell it.
“Is that why you assaulted him?” Thatcher eventually asks. “You were upset with how Ezra was treating her?”
I swallow hard as I bundle my hands into a tight ball in my lap. “You sure I don’t need a fucking lawyer or something?” I snap.