Page 23 of Haunted

“S-second?” I stuttered.

His lips twitched, then slid up at the corners, rewarding me with a gentle grin. “What exactly do you think is happening between us, Henley?”

“I don’t want to assume anything. I’m trying to break myself of that particular habit.”

“Assumptions and I have a long-running, toxic relationship. I’ll tell you about it someday. As for you and me, I’d like to see where this goes, if you’re willing.”

“Why? I mean I know I’m not hideous to look at, but my life is a dumpster fire in the middle of an epic drought, whereas you have your shit together. You’re a big shot FBI agent and I’m a part-time waitress, living out of my car all because some guy with an ego bigger than his bank account wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Shut up, Henley!

Unfortunately, the little voice in my head was too late to stop my ramblings, and I knew it the moment Keaton’s facial expressions morphed from amused to pissed-the-fuck-off. It was a scary transformation, but I wasn’t afraidof him.

“This is the second time you’ve made reference to a man in regards to your troubles. I need you to explain.”

There was an edge to his voice, an icy hardness which induced both a full body shiver and dampness to pool between my thighs. I should not have been turned on by his demand, yet the state of my panties proved otherwise. The only question was, how much should I tell him?

I tried to pull my hand away, deciding a little separation was in order, except he threaded our fingers together rather than letting go.

“You’re safe with me, Henley.”

In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t my safety I was worried about. The damage to my reputation had already been delivered in a fancy package with a big ole “fuck you” bow on top. No, my apprehension sprawled squarely between a rock and a hard place. What if he didn’t believe me? Then again, what if he did? Either result would be equally terrifying. Still, if I wished to have any kind of relationship with this man, he deserved to know the truth.

“There was a guy at school who asked me out repeatedly…actually almost daily for months. I always said no, because I was too busy trying to graduate, plus he kinda gave me the creeps. Apparently, he wasn’t used to being turned down.”

My palms began to sweat and my heart rate spiked just thinking about the next part. Keaton stood, sliding in next to me when my body started to tremble. He raised his arm, then paused, giving me the opportunity to say no. At my nod, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his warmth and comfort. Blowing out a ragged breath, I forged onward.

“One night when I was walking back to my dorm, he tried again to get me to go out on a date. This time when Isaid no, he dragged me into a wooded area and attacked me.”

Keaton stiffened, his grip around me turning almost painful.

“Did he?—”

“No,” I shook my head against the onslaught of memories; a tear sliding down my cheek. Swallowing down the urge to vomit, I continued, “I fought him off.”

“Brave girl.”

“Anyway, I went to campus security but it was his word against mine, and considering his last name is plastered across several buildings at school, I’ll give you one guess who they believed.”

“Son of a bitch.” He smacked his heavy palm down onto the table top. “No investigation? They just believed that motherfucker?”

Fury emanated from his pores, like he was preparing to take on the world in my defense. Normally, an outburst such as his would have me running for the hills. The difference was I knew his outrage was on my behalf, not directedatme. It was then I realized this man had the power to become my everything.

“The following week, I was pulled into the dean’s office and expelled for plagiarism, which you already know.” Chancing a look, I turned my head and met his stormy eyes. “It can’t be a coincidence, right?”

“I don’t think so.” Leaning down, he placed his lips on my forehead and growled, “Now, what’s his name?”

5HELL’S BELLS

Keaton

“You have got to be shitting me, Keaton.” Nelson spouted after I slapped a piece of paper on his desk with the name of the fucker who attacked Henley. I’d recognized it the minute she gave it to me.

Chase McArthur.

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“You look constipated,” Koen snickered from his desk. I flipped him off, never diverting my attention from the one person I knew who could find every skeleton in your closet before breakfast.

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