Page 44 of Beware of Dog

Melissa wasn’t deterred. She was locked on, grave-faced, in full-on detective mode. “I don’t know Shep well,” she started.

“No,” Cass said. “You don’t.”

Melissa blinked, but otherwise took that statement in stride. “I have, though, learned a thing or two about the Lean Dogs in general in the last four years. Presidential orders are well and good, but if one of these guys thinks his woman is in danger, he’s going to do what he’s going to do, and he’ll deal with the fallout with Maverick afterward.”

“I’m nothis woman,” Cass protested, but damn, it sounded good. Sent a thrill through her.

“Just be careful, is all I’m saying. And explain to Shep that he needs to steer clear of Sig at all costs.” She tucked her hair back again with an impatient gesture. “Getting Jamie all the way to trial’s going to be hard enough as it is.”

Guilt pricked at her. Here she was entertaining wild fantasies of being a Lean Dog’s “woman,” and her friend was teetering on the edge of a breakdown. “How’s the investigation going?”

“You know I can’t tell you about that.” Melissa took a step back. “Remember what I said, please.”

“Yeah.”

“And take care of yourself.” She gave Cass an awkward shoulder squeeze before she turned and started down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.

~*~

Cass spent the rest of her walk to Art History replaying Melissa’s words in her mind like a news chyron.If one of these guys thinks his woman is in danger…

She couldn’t stop playing with that phrase.His woman. Shep’s woman. Cassandra Green, Shepherd’s woman.

The idea was preposterous.

The idea wasexciting.

She’d been crushing on Dogs since she was old enough to have crushes, but she’d never spent as much one-on-one time with one as she had with Shepherd. Didn’t have a rapport with a Dog like she did with Shepherd.

She asked herself, as she let herself into the building and was blasted in the face by heat from an overactive furnace, if she was infatuated with the idea of being with a Dog? Or with Shep specifically?

Raven would freak, which meant Toly would freak. And oh God, Tenny would come all the way to New York to hunt Shepfor sport. It couldn’t happen; no one in her family wouldlet herdate a Dog, a fact that made her bow up with defiance and spite. But she entertained the notion. Let the possibility unspool in her imagination.

He called hersweetheartsometimes. Not in a sultry way; he used the pet name in the same way he usedkid, andbrat, andlittle shit. If they were together, would his voice change? Would it dip into sweeter, deeper, hungrier territory? When she sat next to him on the couch, and wormed her way under his arm, would he keep it still and respectable? Or would he play with the neckline of her shirt? Thumb her chin and turn her head so he could kiss her?

The bright curl of excitement the thoughts stirred low in her belly was accompanied by a dose of shame, and a dash of embarrassment, because she was completely inexperienced. In her fantasies, she knew how to angle her head, and she knew what he liked, and they came together in this seamless dance. But when she started really trying to choreograph things, she turned fumbly and uncertain, her mind throwing up blanks that filled her with dread.

Jesus. She was getting ahead of herself. Giddy, apprehensive…stupid. Yeah, stupid.

Her classroom was an amphitheater style space, with carpeted, tiered rows of long tables set in a slight bow so that everyone had a good view of the board. With her head spinning, she slid into the back row and took a chair on the edge in the hopes Professor Nuñez wouldn’t call on her today. She had the sense she wouldn’t absorb a word of the lecture.

She pulled out her notebook and pen anyway. Was quite seriously contemplating writingCassandra Jane Shepherdon a blank page just for the fun of it. Just to see what it looked like…when someone slipped behind her chair and dropped into the one next to her.

A life spent among outlaws and assassins meant she didn’t startle, but she made a point of straightening her notebook in the hopes that whoever it was would ignore her.

No such luck.

A male voice said, “Hey, Cassandra?”

In all her fantasies of becoming a celebrity, the cause was her artwork, and not sticking up for her assaulted friend. Campus notoriety wasnotfun in this instance.

“Cassandra?”

Shit. She adjusted her pen a millimeter to the right, and then turned her head, slowly, chin tipped down and gaze slanted.

She recognized the boy next to her—and he really was a boy, when she compared him to Shep, with his stubble, and his streetfighter nose, and the smoky roughness of his voice—but she didn’t remember his name. He had a mop of curly dark hair, vivid green eyes, and a model-pretty face dusted with freckles. More importantly: he was one of Sig’s friends.

She gave him her coldest stare, said, “I have nothing to say to you,” and faced the board again. She wanted to get up and move to a different chair, but she wasn’t going to show fear.

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