Page 46 of Brutal Prince

“Are you alright, dude?”

“It’s been a long few days,” he answered, “and the last thing I need right now to hear about campus drama.”

“You call rape and murder drama?”

He shot me a black scowl. Bad idea. The dude was harboring a major black cloud. I’ll leave him to cool off to work on my assignment.

When I got back to my desk there was a message from Vanderbilt. Seeing his name had a habit of causing my spine to seize up.

Vanderbilt: The client wants you and the redhead tonight. Room 23. I’ll send her the same message.

Me: I’m in. What time?

Vanderbilt: 10pm.

More sex with Gretta will be nice, but with someone watching, who is expecting better than last time? Yeah, I don’t know. I can hack the pace when I’m in the Hawks, but when it’s just me playing a fucking Casanova the pressure is high. I might fall and look like an idiot. All in the name of protecting Gretta and trying to find out who the ringleader is.

Something’s not right with Gretta. She lied to me and her mom about where she was last night and I didn’t like it. It surprised me if she turned the job down to avoid me, but right now I’m her greatest hope at solving the mystery. At least that’s what I believed.

Where she was last night might prove me wrong. Her mom said she was only gone an hour, so where was she? And why can’t she tell me?

I stepped to Darryn’s room and found him sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the floor, flexing his right hand.

“Are you alright, dude?” I asked him.

His snapped his head up, startled. “Huh?”

“You seem unhappy.”

“I told you I’ve got family problems.” He kept his eyes low and a sensation of a cold grasping the back of my neck forced me to flinch. Something was not right. My allies, Darryn and Gretta were acting strangely and refused to open up to tell me why.

“Right. So, Gretta and I have a job tonight in room twenty three,” this time I caught his attention, “and I was just wondering if you want to stand guard.”

He didn’t seem particularly enthused and I could hardly blame him. “Yeah, I guess. I suppose that’s what I signed up for. So, is Mathias okay?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you find out?”

“She rang me.”

He reached for his phone. “I didn’t get a message from her.” His actions were calculated and odd. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“Neither did Gretta, but she told me to tell you guys, so that’s what I’m doing.”

He nodded becoming distant again.

“Dude, if you ever need to talk I’m just a few feet away,” I offered.

He sniggered. “Some things ya just can’t talk about, dude.” He stalled and backtracked. “I mean, family stuff should be kept in the family.”

“Gotcha.”

I wanted to ask him to help me with my assignment like he normally did, because I’ve got a touch of dyslexia, but he seemed far too weighed down by other problems. That’s okay, my tutor was fully aware of my learning disorder and made allowances.

My phone beeped distracting me from the assignment.

Gretta: Did Vanderbilt contact you about tonight?

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