Page 15 of Pin-up Girl

“Yep.” I turned the music down, ready to start building trust so this shit could be over. “That was really cool what you did for Jules.”

She shrugged, leaning her head back against the seat. “It was nothing, I really hate fuckers that walk all over people. Especially if it’s to call out something a person might be self-conscious about.”

The building was close, about a ten-minute drive, just out of fraternity and sorority row.

“You’re taking this all really well.”

“Yeah, well, what’re my other options? And I prefer to live.” She must have toed her shoes off because her bare fucking feet went on the dash. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. My Caddy was my baby, and it was never dirty. Ever. But Elise had done a solid for Jules. She could put her feet on my dash this one time.

“And you’re not the slightest bit curious about what happened last night?” What the hell was I doing? It wasn’t like I could share the details with her. The guys would flip if they knew I’d even asked this. We should be doing everything we could to encourage her to leave us the hell alone.

Elise tipped her head my way, and I fell into her watercolor blue gaze for the briefest moment before she covered them with a spare pair of sunglasses from the console. “Sure. I’m beyond curious. But this cat wants to live.” She pointed at herself. “And I know who you guys are. Everyone on campus knows the Kings of Alpha Delta Omega. Everyone also knows you have more money and connections than God. So, I’ll not be wasting any of my lives by asking you questions. I already lost a life this morning.”

When it became apparent that our activities were for the frat.

Changing the subject, I moved the conversation to more innocent waters. “Where did you transfer from?”

“Adelaide Community College. I wanted to make sure my degree was from a well-respected university, so I went to community college to keep the cost down as long as I could.”

“Smart,” I murmured. Adelaide was in the next largest city about four hours across the state. They had universities, but none with the prestige of Wellington. She’d get a much better job with Wellington on her degree.

Me and the guys? We’d had a plan all laid out for years. After we successfully separated ourselves fromthem, we’d open our own business. Do something like private investigation work. Secrets were our currency, and what better way to support ourselves than doing what we did best? At least the kind of secrets we’d hunt wouldn’t put our lives in danger. Cheating wives, rebellious kids. That sort of thing.

I parked at the curb, right in front of the double glass doors.

“Uh, skip. You can’t park here.” She pulled the sunglasses to the tip of her nose.

“Remember how you said everyone knows the kings? They won’t be towing my car. They wouldn’t dare.” I winked and got out, shoving the keys in my pocket.

She huffed, but otherwise led the way. Her ass swayed seductively, the skirt hugging her hips all the way to her knees. Fuck.

“Is there a roommate, or do you have a solo?” This apartment building did both. Not exactly one of the luxury buildings close to campus, but not the hood either. It was clean, nicely kept, with a friendly staff.

“Roommate. I subletted from a girl that decided to take a year break. Since I only needed one year before I graduate…” She shrugged one shoulder, nearly touching her ear.

“And how do you pay for the room?”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s none of your fucking business.” She flipped me off over her shoulder.

Okay, maybe it had been a tad bit intrusive. But she was our little Pin-up, and until we were satisfied we could trust her, she was in our care. And how she made, or acquired, money was a very important detail.

Grabbing the door handle, I kept it closed when she would have pushed it open. “It is if I think you can easily be bribed,” I whispered in her ear, then brushed past her and opened the door. Even criminals could retain their manners. And that was what we were. Criminals. At least until we bought our freedom.

She huffed behind me, her high heels clacking over the laminate floor. If she were in boots, she would have been doing one hell of a stomping. I allowed myself to enjoy it for a few scant seconds before wiping any emotion from my face.

At the elevator, she beat me to the button. It was like she won some small slice of her independence back. She wouldn’t look at me as we waited for the elevator to arrive. But I took the time to study her. She looked every bit as good as last night. With her fresh face, maybe even better.

“I’d tell you to take a picture, but something tells me you’re too arrogant to do something so simple. Or to do the polite thing and look elsewhere.” The elevator dinged, and she walked in before me.

Elise was right. Iwasarrogant. But I wasn’t such a douche I would continue to stare at her if it made her uncomfortable. Miffed, I stepped out of the elevator before she could. Her apartment was on the second floor, about halfway down the hall. There was no key, just a six-digit code. I stood a few steps back, pretending not to watch her, but I did.

When she hit pound, I turned to face the other end of the hallway with large, tinted windows. It was gorgeous outside. Sunny, warm, perfect for one of the last few weeks of summer. The door swooshed softly over the carpet.

“Come on.” She nudged the door open with her hip before leaving me on my own. I caught it right before it closed and slid in behind her. Looking around, I was absolutely shocked. This Pin-up girl was everything soft and feminine. But here, in her home, she was someone completely different. I expected pink boas and colorful paintings of pop culture. Maybe even some girly throw pillows. But the entire place was a contradiction to who she was.

The furniture was all black and sleek. Not high end like I was used to, but not shabby either. And her artwork was something I’d find in an older man’s house. Or maybe on the wall of an odd art enthusiast. On one side was a framed picture of an old house on fire. The other wall had a framed photograph of…snow? It had a very abstract vibe, almost like golf balls had packed it down.

“Are these your decorations or your roommate’s?”

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