Killer: A Dark College Romance (Hillcrest University Book 5) Read online

  Before Ash could speak, I said, “The police just questioned me about my dad.” Still felt weird saying it, felt even weirder thinking back to a few moments ago, when the pair of detectives had me sitting in the back of a lecture hall, jotting things down on small pads of paper, like my answers were interesting.

  “Your dad?” Ash echoed, sounding terribly confused. As confused as me. “Why would they question you about Dean Briggs? Did they say what it was about?”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  I heard Travis’s voice speak from near Ash, “Did you even ask?”

  I shook my head to myself, knowing that Travis thought me some helpless idiot. Sometimes I was, but here and now I wasn’t. The only thing I was was freaked out, which I thought was understandable, considering those police literally came out of the blue.

  “Yes, I asked,” I spoke, annoyed. “They also contacted Will. He’s on his way here to talk to them. I’m…I’m going to go see my dad, see if he knows what the hell is going on.” I normally wasn’t one to swear, but sometimes the situation called for it.

  This situation, whatever it was, definitely called for it.

  “Are you sure that’s smart?” Ash asked. “I mean, if they were asking you about your dad, they must suspect him of something—”

  “No,” I cut in, vehement in my belief, my stance behind Dad. My dad was a good man. Will might not get along with him for whatever reason, but Dad was a good guy. Good guys were hard to find in a place like this. Hillcrest was lucky to have him. “There’s no way…just no way.” I didn’t know exactly what the police were questioning me for, but Dad was innocent of whatever crime they suspected him of.

  By the time I made it to the administration building, I’d already said my goodbyes to Ash. A few golf carts were parked in front of the building on the grass, just off the sidewalk, which I found a little odd. I headed inside, normally not one to go see my dad—while I was a student and on campus, I wanted my relationship with him to be one based purely on academics and not that of a father and a son.

  That wasn’t how it was right now, though. Right now all I could think as I scurried to the elevator was: what the hell was going on? Did something happen? Was Dad keeping something from me? Just what in the world…

  I thought things would get easier after this week, once Markus and Lincoln were gone, once they did whatever it was they were going to do to Ray. I thought things would be better with Sawyer gone. But the harsh reality was that things weren’t better. They only grew more confusing. Stranger.

  I took the elevator all the way up to the floor where Dad’s office was. He didn’t often have meetings, so his floor saw the least amount of use. From what he told me, he was always on the phone though, out and about, showing his face where it needed to be. I didn’t even know if he’d be up there, but…for some reason I couldn’t call him. I had to see him.

  A stupid part of me thought that by seeing him, I’d know the truth. Whatever the hell the truth was.

  When the elevator opened and I took a step out, I instantly froze. There were more police here. Some were chitchatting in the hallway. Others, I noticed, were talking to the secretary whose desk was right before the elevator. She was only here in the mornings and early afternoons, but she was my dad’s go-to for everything.

  I walked past the front desk, heading down the hall to where my dad’s office was. I spotted my dad at the end of the hall, standing near the window and sipping a coffee. Heading straight for him, I saw a few more officers were currently going through his office. His bookshelves, his desk.

  Dad’s eyes met mine, and even though he gave me a smile, he looked tired. Exhausted. He looked…a bit worried, actually. “Declan,” he said, setting his coffee cup on the windowsill behind him and shoving his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?” He’d just shaved his goatee, the brown and grey facial hair shorter than what it normally was. He wore a thick sweater vest and a pair of brown slacks. All in all, my dad looked like the last person the police should investigate.

  “The police just questioned me about you,” I told him, watching his reaction. He…he didn’t seem surprised.

  Dad only blinked at me before letting out a short sigh. “I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this, Declan.” An apology, but for what?

  “What are they looking for?” I asked, gesturing to the police in his office. “Do they have a warrant?” If they had a warrant, things were a lot worse than I suspected. If a warrant was involved, it meant they had more than a reasonable suspicion that my dad was involved in something shady.

  I…I didn’t know what to think of that. I’d always viewed Dad as a role model. I loved him. He and Will were the only close family members I had left. Sure, there were cousins and aunts and uncles, but we didn’t see them often. They did their own thing, and we did ours. It had been just the three of us for so long.

  “They don’t have a warrant,” Dad said, his eyes darting to his open office door. “I’m letting them in there because I have nothing to hide.”

  “What are they here for? Why are they making Will come here? Dad—”

  My dad’s eyebrows furrowed, and he turned his stare to me. It was the kind of stare that could silence you, no matter what you’d been in the middle of saying. “Will. I…I should’ve known.”

  I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but I was further silenced when he drew his hands out of his pockets and set them on my shoulders, squeezing gently, but firmly enough that I knew I had to pay special attention to what he said next.

  “Listen to me, Declan, no matter what happens, know that it’s not your fault, and that I love you. If the police ask to speak with you again, tell them you’ll only talk to them if a lawyer is present. I have someone on retainer—”

  Taking a step back, I stared quizzically at my dad. “What are you talking about?” The way he spoke…it was like he was guilty, almost. Like he knew he’d done wrong, and that this—whatever the hell this was—was not something that came out of the blue. This was something he’d expected.

  “You should go,” Dad told me, holding his head high. “If your brother is involved, this…this isn’t going to be pretty. You need to stay out of it, focus on your classes. You have exams coming up, don’t you? Study hard for those.”

  I didn’t like what my dad was saying. What did Will have to do with any of this? I asked my dad what he meant, but it was like he zoned out. Like he could no longer hear me. Once I mentioned Will’s name, it was as if Dad had shut down. I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand. It was Will. What was so wrong with Will?

  Maybe it wasn’t Will. Maybe it was him. Maybe, just maybe there was something Dad was hiding from me. I almost didn’t want to think about it, because out of everyone, I trusted him and Will the most. They were family. I’d grown up with them. If you couldn’t trust family, who the hell could you trust?

  I stared at Dad as I backed away, the expression on his face imprinting itself in my mind as I turned and left. My eyes focused on the fancy tile beneath my feet and not the police raiding my dad’s office.

  Will. I had to talk to Will.

  Chapter Seven – Ash

  Markus’s black hair was slicked to the side, his jaw clean-cut and the look in his eyes a dangerous one. He wore fancy clothes, nothing new, and I realized the more time I spent around him, the more savage he was underneath that expensive getup. He was a monster wearing a suit, a monster in a well-dressed cage. He made me uncomfortable in the worst of ways, and I honestly couldn’t wait until the day he and Lincoln left and our lives got back to normal.

  Well, as normal as they could be, anyway.

  Markus sat across from me at the kitchen table, his hands folded across each other as his dark eyes stared at me. I was currently in the process of repeating the plan for the thousandth time, my throat feeling dry. We’d gone over this before, again and again, and you know what? This probably wouldn’t be the last time he asked me to tell him what the plan was, ei
ther.

  There could be no mistakes, blah, blah, blah.

  Travis and Lincoln were busy glaring at each other, Travis still miffed at what Lincoln had said earlier. Honestly, I was, too. It wasn’t every day that a seasoned killer told you that you were his perfect prey, that if things were different, he’d gladly add you to the notches on his bedpost.

  And by notches I meant his body count.

  “I told you,” I said, not for the first time, earning myself a scowl from Markus. “We don’t need to go over the plan a million times. I know what I have to do.” That was an understatement. A part of me wanted to do more, but with how freaked out I’d been over seeing Brooklyn get torn apart, I knew I shouldn’t see any more death.

  At least for a while. Give my mind a break. Let me sleep without nightmares. Let me pretend, just for a little while, that my life was normal and not some fucked-up mess that no one could fix.

  “When you get cocky, mistakes tend to be made,” Markus spoke through experience. I couldn’t help but wonder how many other people he’d killed, if he’d wrangled any other serial killers like Ray before. Was this new territory for him? I…did not like the thought of that.

  “There won’t be any mistakes,” I told him, meaning it. Maybe. If there was a mistake, I would be the one to pay for it, anyway. Not him, not Lincoln, not his precious family.

  Don’t get me wrong, I understood the notion that said family mattered above all else, but the way Lincoln and Markus talked about their family…it was like their family was their life. Almost like the family was some kind of murderous cult. What was worse? Travis was a part of it. I didn’t like the thought of Travis leaving Hillcrest to go join them.

  Markus looked like he wanted to say more, but it was at that moment that Declan entered the house, looking perplexed. I immediately left Markus, meeting Declan in the hallway. Seeing his eyes clouded over, his brows slightly furrowed, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like how stressed-out he seemed.

  Declan said nothing, simply grabbing hold of my hand and leading me up the stairs. For all the time we spent in Sawyer’s house, we owed him.

  Hah. As if. That bastard—although maybe he wasn’t strictly a bastard since he was in rehab—would not get anything from me. Never again. It took every ounce of my self-control not to think about him constantly, to fight the strange feeling that swelled inside of me every time I thought his name.

  I missed him.

  It was stupid, I knew.

  Declan brought me to the room we’d been using, closing the door behind us after releasing my hand. He dropped his bag on the floor, tossing his jacket on top of it. Still saying nothing, he went to sit on the side of the bed, his shoulders slumped. I did not move to sit next to him, but I did move to stand before him, running my fingers through his hair gently.

  “Is this about your dad?” I asked, already knowing it was. He’d called and told me the police questioned him about Dean Briggs, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was Sawyer’s doing. If, before leaving for rehab, Sawyer had called the cops. Put in a tip, or even told his parents that the D in the note Sabrina wrote might not mean Declan.

  Dean Briggs.

  If the note really did mean Dean Briggs, what in the world did that mean? Did it mean Sabrina truly committed suicide because of Dean Briggs? Did it mean Declan’s father was in some kind of illegal relationship with Sabrina while she was also seeing Declan? Something like that would weigh on a heart. It would weigh on mine, definitely.

  I knew I’d have to tell Declan about the note, about Sawyer’s findings, but right now, I could tell he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about his dad being involved in something illegal—and a relationship with a seventeen-year-old girl was most definitely illegal. I mean, Dean Briggs was older than Ray. That was just…no.

  Declan slowly nodded against my hand, which had fallen to the side of his face, cupping his cheek. He slowly reached for the hand, holding it against his cheek, relishing in the feeling of my skin on his.

  God, Declan was so sweet. So gentle. It was almost enough for me to forget about the whole Ray-didn’t-attack-him thing. I adored Declan, and no matter what the truth was, I wasn’t going to run from him again. I was done running. No more running, no more hiding from the truth.

  “I think something is going on between my dad and Will,” Declan muttered, frowning. His chocolate eyes closed, his head turning into the palm of my hand. I felt his lips against my skin, and I immediately felt myself warm between my legs.

  That mouth was a miracle-worker.

  Even though I wanted to focus on that mouth, those soft, tender lips, his words caused my mind to race. “Will? What does Will have to do with this?” If anything, shouldn’t he mention Sawyer? Unless I was way off-base, and this wasn’t about Sabrina’s suicide note. I should know by now that no one in Hillcrest was actually as clean and above the law as they claimed to be.

  As I finally moved to sit next to him, our legs touching, my hand dropped to Declan’s lap, and he held onto it, absentmindedly tracing my knuckles. “I don’t know. Dad mentioned him, and I…I’m just worried. Will hasn’t always gotten along with him. I hope he didn’t do something to…”

  “To what?”

  “To get him out of the picture.”

  Now it was my turn to furrow my brows. “What?” What in the world was Declan going on about? Will wouldn’t frame someone…would he? Did Will hate his dad that much? My heart beat fast for a different reason now—if it was true, it meant Will was a good liar.

  No, not just a good liar. A fantastic, spectacular one, one that everyone believed. I didn’t know what to make of that thought.

  “Why would Will want him out of the picture?” I asked when Declan remained silent.

  “I don’t know. That’s something I have to ask Will,” Declan replied, turning his warm, kind stare to me. “He’s on his way to Hillcrest now. The police want to talk to him, too.” It was still light out, early afternoon on this strange, strange Tuesday. “He better call once he’s done with them. I need to know what the hell is going on.”

  “I’m sure he will,” I whispered, pulling my hand away from him. “Are you up for a little distraction?” My question was not spoken coyly, and Declan turned his body to face mine, leaning down into me, pressing his forehead against mine.

  “You’re never a distraction,” he murmured, his breath hot on my face. Declan always knew the right words to say; he always knew how to make me smile. He was not the type of guy I ever would’ve gone for before, but now…after everything, I was glad I had Declan by my side, even if he was hiding something from me.

  Declan was Declan, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.

  His fingertips grazed my chin, tilting my face up, and his lips met mine. Together we fell back on the bed, Declan pinning me down, the fingers that had touched my chin now curving alongside my face and entwining in my hair. He didn’t tug on it; he was never overly rough. Everything with Declan was always smooth and steady, the kind of embrace you had with a lover of many years. Familiar, and yet still greedy. No amount was ever enough.

  His lean chest pressed against mine, his legs pinning mine down, and I focused on the feeling of his body on top of mine, on the way his mouth took everything mine gave. Our lips melded together as if they were adjacent puzzle pieces, always meant to find each other and be connected. The moment his tongue snaked its way between my lips, slowly dancing with mine, I lost all train of thought.

  I grabbed his sides, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, as if I could hold him closer, feel him better. When clutching his shirt wasn’t enough, my hands moved underneath it, drawing up the bare sides of his body and making him tremble. Declan tore his mouth off mine, and he leaned up to slip out of his shirt.

  Declan wasn’t overly muscled, but his body was nice to look at. Lean and slender, not an ounce of fat anywhere on him. He had the faintest traces of abs, not defined like a certain someone else’s, but that wa
s okay. I didn’t need abs to desire Declan. I wanted him regardless.

  Running my hands down his chest, Declan came back to me, his body heat flooding mine now that he was shirtless. His lips kissed the edge of my mouth, trailing a line to my jaw and my neck. It was after one particularly swoon-worthy kiss that ended in a nibble against the crook of my neck that I started to pull my own shirt off. Declan leaned back, giving me the space to do it. Next came the bra, and the moment it was off, Declan was on me.

  His mouth returned to my neck for only a few moments before trailing downwards, heat following everywhere his lips touched, a low fire being stoked in my core, making me ache for him. The instant his mouth found a nipple, I had to close my eyes and moan. There was literally nothing better in the world than feeling that mouth on me. Declan had skills, and I planned on using those skills whenever and however I could. I’d been a fool for keeping myself away from him for so long. Think of all the orgasms I missed.

  I knew—the horror.

  His tongue swirled around my nipple, his hand finding my other breast and cupping it, his fingers grazing over the hardened pebble. I found myself arching my back, my nerves on fire from the stimulation. God, I was ninety-nine percent sure this one could make me come just by exerting his skill on my breasts.

  His hips pressed down on me, and I could feel the erection in his pants. We needed to free that thing. Now.

  Weaving my fingers through his brown hair, I tugged his mouth off me, rolling us so that I was now the one on top. Within a few moments, we were both one hundred percent naked and two hundred percent raring to go. I crawled over him, my intent the box in the nightstand I knew was there.

  Sawyer was really only good for one thing. He might’ve been a huge dick and a playboy of epic proportions, but at least he always had an overabundance of protection. We were still on his stash, too. We hadn’t even bought our own yet.