Page 42 of King of Sinners

Pushing up, I slam the laptop closed and begin to pace back and forth in my room. I pick up the phone Mason gave me, intent upon calling him, but then I drop it again.

He’s fighting with Leo, running a business, trying to neutralize a threat that already exists in my life.

How many problems can I drop at his door?

And as nice as it feels to have him take care of me, I did live life on my own for actual years. Besides, I ought to be careful not to take advantage of his strength. This is already short term, there is nothing like a needy woman to make a short-term thing shorter. While I don’t date, I’ve watched my roommates go through countless men and nothing ends a relationship faster than clingy or needy.

I look at the clock, noting that Professor Burke’s office hours start in fifteen minutes.

Drawing in a deep breath, I lift the phone up again, choosing the other number that’s been programmed in.

“Jackson?” I ask when someone picks up.

“It’s me,” Mason’s driver answers. “Did you need something?”

“A ride to UNLV.”

There is a pause. “A ride? For what?”

I nip at my lip. “Just something I need to finish up for the semester.” It’s the truth.

He pauses again, the line silent for several seconds before he seems to finally make a decision. “Come on down.”

Letting out a long breath of air, I step into the closet, picking out a pair of low-heel sandals before I head for the elevator.

During the ride down, I prepare what I’m going to say to Professor Burke. I’m not much for threatening or bluffing. But I know I did excellent work on that project. Do I take this to other administrators?

I could use Mason’s name, but if Mason is trying to pass me off as his long-term girlfriend turned fiancé and not the waitressing college student, that seems unwise.

I have another niggle of doubt as I step out of the elevator. Does this impact Mason’s plan? Should I wait for him?

What if he tells me that in the grand scheme of problems, failing a class falls into the worry-about-that-problem-later category? That it’s not important.

I don’t want to worry later. This is the entire reason I’m still here, and to me, this might be more important than any of them. Graduating is a do-before-I-die kind of item.

With that in mind, I square my shoulders as the doors open and I step out into the garage.

Vegas is already heating up for the day, the warmth of the late morning making me instantly sticky. But the car is running, the air conditioning on, as Jackson opens the rear door for me, his kind smile firmly in place.

I slide into the cool car, trying to come up with a plan. I’ll tell the truth. My work this semester has been worthy of passing the class. If he doesn’t give me the grade I deserve, I’ll tell everyone about his proposition, present my work, and ask him to justify my suddenly failing grades. It’s the best I’ve got.

Wiping my palms on my dress, I try to keep my breathing even, but my hands clench and unclench in my lap as the car pulls out of the lot.

“Everything all right?” Jackson asks, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview.

“Trouble with one of my classes,” I answer, staring out the window as I mentally rehearse again. “I’m going to get it straightened out.”

“Not Professor Burke?”

“What?” That pulls me from my thoughts, my brow crinkling. Had I mentioned my professor’s name?

“You let me know if you need any help,” he says. “I don’t look it now, but I used to be pretty tough.”

I smile, relaxing into my seat. “Thank you, Jackson. That really does make me feel better.”

He gives a nod and then silence falls between us while he navigates Vegas traffic. It takes less than fifteen minutes before he turns the car onto the campus, parking near the Building of the Arts.

I step out of the car, taking one last fortifying breath as Jackson falls into step next to me, typing on his phone.

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