Page 6 of Duke of Ruin

That’s when I notice the note on the nightstand. All that’s on it is his name and phone number. I narrow my eyes at it. I can’t seem to decide if I should be offended. Not that it matters. Even if I was, it’s not like I can just break up with him. Not that there’s a relationship to break up. This is my assignment. This is why I’m allowed to go to this school. I have to get close to the Carbones. Still, my chest tightens at the thought. Eli doesn’t seem like a bad guy. Rich, arrogant, spoiled, sure, but damn. I take those feelings and shove them down deep enough that I hopefully won’t find them again.

I shift my focus to what the Carbones did to my family. My father just wanted out. He absolutely would have walked away quietly, but they wouldn’t let him. I was only a baby when it all went down, but they threatened our whole family when my father tried to quit his position as an enforcer. He just didn’t want that violent life anymore once his kids were born. One night when he was off with the Carbones, our housesomehowcaught fire. Mom managed to get us all to safety, but not without suffering serious burns in the process. My father tried to get past the guilt, even going so far as to become a state witness against the Carbones, but he ended up hanging himself while in custody. At least, that’s the official story. Since then, Mom has raised the two of us under witness protection. That’s why this mission is important; that’s why I have to push any feelings I have aside. Who knows how many families have been devastated by these people? They shouldn’t get to live in luxury while the rest of us suffer.

I clench my fists in the towel for a second before using it to dry my hair. I pause for a moment in front of the full-length mirror when I notice the slight discoloration in the skin on my hand as I bring the towel down. It’s the only mark left on me from the fire. I look over the rest of my body, almost as though I’m searching for more marks, more scars, like my mother’s. Over half of her skin is still scarred, and her lungs never fully recovered.

I’ve trained for this my whole life. I’ve known since I was just a kid that I wanted to be a cop, that I wanted to get justice for people like my mom, that I wanted to put bad guys away. My muscle definition reflects that. I’ve spent years training how to fight, to run, to pursue. I’m one of the best marksmen the PD has ever seen. This is my calling; it’s what I was born to do. I can’t let anything get in the way of that, especially a spoiled rich kid like Eli.

With my resolve bolstered, I throw on my suit from last night and leave the hotel, keeping tabs on my surroundings just in case anyone is curious about the man Eli Carbone spent the night with. I have the front desk call a cab for me to take back to campus. On the ride, I muster the nerve to send Eli a text, since I have to keep up this farce if I’m going to succeed.

Once I’m back in my apartment, I get out my notebook and write down everything I remember from the party last night. I write down everyone’s names and what I learned about them, as well as the details of any conversations I remember. The exercise is harder than I anticipated. Eli seemed genuinely happy with me there, like he knew he was sitting in a pit of vipers and I was his safety line. Maybe that’s just me projecting. Wishful thinking is a powerful drug.

Once I’m finished, I dutifully lock everything in the safe behind the lone picture framed on the wall as I’ve been trained. According to Rossi, too many undercover agents have been compromised by careless handling of evidence.

My thoughts trail back to the hotel room. It’s incredibly unprofessional of me to get involved on a physical level like this, and now I have to make sure that I getironcladevidence, because my word as a witness is going to be unreliable at best. But since that cat’s already out of the bag, I might as well roll with it. My phone vibrates next to me, and I glance down at it. Eli finally texted me back. Just one word:lunch?I take a deep breath and steel my resolve once more. I’m already in the deep end, so I might as well swim.

* * *

I expected to go back to the frat house, but instead we’re at some sort of fundraising event in downtown Montcove. The scent of grilled meats and funnel cakes permeates the air around us, and the streets are blocked off for the milling crowd. I follow Eli as we approach several tents set up with coolers and tableware. Eli grabs a couple of burgers and sodas, then leads me off to the edge of the crowd, where we sit at a bench usually reserved for the bus route.

“What are we doing here?” I finally ask around a mouthful of burger. I have to admit it’s delicious, especially for street food.

“The Phi Alphas are raising money for the Montcove Arts Council.”

“The Montcove Arts Council?” I repeat, feeling baffled. What is this guy talking about?

“Yeah, they provide art instruction for all the schools around here and do a lot of community work. The fraternity set up this festival to give the artists a chance to display their work and hopefully sell some, and to raise funding for the school programs. I’m hoping to make it a yearly event.” Eli looks almost sheepish as he gauges my reaction.

“Wow” is all I can manage in response. I look around at all the tents and booths. There’s even a live band on stage at the end of the block. “I didn’t realize you were that into fine arts.”

“I was put into a lot of art and music classes when I was young. My mom wanted to make sure I was well-rounded.” He chuckles, but I can see something in his eyes that makes my chest hurt. “I always enjoyed it, and it wasn’t until I went to college that I realized how many kids never had that opportunity. It’s a way to give back, I guess, and remember my mother.”

I fight to control my expression. I want to shake my head in disgust that it took until he was a fucking adult to realize that he was a spoiled brat. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. “What happened to her?”

“My mother?” Eli raises his eyebrows at me, almost as if he’s surprised I mentioned it.

I nod.

“Cancer.” Eli presses his lips together and gazes over the crowd. “We had all the best doctors, drug trials, research. My father sent her all over the world, but there was nothing we could do.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and nudge his shoulder.

“What about you? Where are your parents?” Eli asks me, trying to change the subject. Now it’s my turn to look at the crowd.

“My father died in an accident when I was a baby, so I don’t remember anything about him. My mom was on her own raising me and my sister.” I turn my eyes back to him and see a look on his face that I can’t quite understand.

“What does she do?” Eli asks. The question makes me uncomfortable, but my training has taught me to stick as close to the truth as possible. That makes it easier to avoid getting caught in a lie.

“She works for a maid service. She actually manages a team now, so she’s doing a lot better than before, but she’s always had to work hard,” I say, shifting in my seat.

“I could talk to my family,” Eli says, and I have to fight to keep my expression neutral. I have a sinking feeling I know where this is going. “We would probably pay a lot more for services like that than most.”

Heat rages through me. I clench my jaw, but wait a beat before responding. The arrogant rich kid thinks he can somehow save my family like we’re some sort of charity case, when it’s his twisted family that put us here in the first place.

“She’d never go for switching jobs,” I say with a forced smile. “She’s been with this company for over fifteen years and they’ve always treated her well. It’s just hard work.”

“Just something to think about.” Eli shrugs.

“Besides, she lives in Portland. She would never move to Montcove,” I continue. It’s decidedlynotsomething to think about. I haven’t even told her about my operation here. She thinks I’m somewhere in the Midwest.

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