Page 119 of Rear View
“When I came to pick your sweet ass up and you didn’t show, I went lookin’.”
My mouth dropped open. I should’ve known.
He smirked, took my hips in his hungry grasp and turned me to face him. “Do what you need to do. Don’t rush.” He pointed through the glass exit doors to a bench just outside. “I’ll be there when you’re done.”
His kiss lingered on my lips as I sauntered toward my desk.
Barlowe cleared his throat and shuffled his papers entirely more aggressively than necessary. It was suddenly like dealing with a petulant child. Something I shouldn’t have to do. Somethingno oneshould. It made me sick to my stomach to deal with him. To just be in his presence. If he acted that way with me, I had to assume he did it with others. And it’d never be addressed if someone didn’t address it. Yes, picking that fight and requesting a new thesis adviser stressed me for any number of reasons, seeing as I’d still be his TA, but the only way he’d stop crossing my lines was if I threw up a wall. So, I swallowed around the bile climbing the back of my throat and brought up U of E’s contact directory on my phone to do exactly that.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Xavier
I veered into a spot in the courthouse’s lot. My Jeep tires chirped when I jerked to a stop. Grabbing the bag I’d packed, I jumped out, then climbed the stairs to the main entrance two at a time.
My gut hardened, the memory of the last time I’d been there flashing across my mind. The weight of my past crushed me, getting heavier by the goddamn second. Ryah needed to know, but, Christ, she already had one criminal pounding her door. What would she say when she learned about me?
I shoved the thought back. I needed to focus. Needed to find the asshole scaring my girl, ’cause there was only one kind of justice he deserved. And I was bloodthirsty for it.
He had to be someone with access to her. Someone she knew, ’cause the guy had no other reason to disguise his voice unless he figured she’d recognize it. Jesus, Ryah’d looked so damn scared. Like I’d walk away ’cause she was too much trouble. If anything, I’d only hunkered deeper. I couldn’t give a shit about myself. She was what mattered, and I was with her. The girl was everything.Knowing she wanted me too—lovedme…she was more than I deserved. But she was mine. And that asshole would never have her.
I needed to talk to someone—someone who might have answers.
Pushing through the doors, I was hit with that too-familiar pine-and-chemicals scent. The checkerboard floors were duller than before, but still in decent shape.
The security guard to my right waved me over. “This way.”
I set my phone and keys in a bin, then dropped it and my bag on the airport-security-style conveyor belt. They screened everything while I stepped through the metal detector. The guard nodded the all clear, so I grabbed my stuff and aimed for the elevators that lined the back wall. Scanning the board with the names and floors of all the folks who worked there, I spotted the one I needed. “Office of the Crown Prosecutor, Juan Castillo.”
I pressed for the fifth floor, my leg bouncing while the thing climbed, slow as hell. For-goddamn-ever later, the doors dinged and slid open. Striding out, I stalked to the receptionist’s desk ten feet ahead.
A young blonde sat there, her long, sparkly nails clacking against the keys when I closed in.
She glanced up, eyes tracking over my injuries for less than a second before a bright blush burned her cheeks. “How can I help you, Mr. Bosch?”
I fought the frown building across my face. Didn’t think I’d ever get used to strangers knowing who I was. “I need to talk to Castillo.”
“Oh. I believe he’s in a meeting right now.” She clicked something on her computer. “Yes, it shows here he is.”Her brows pinched as if she were confused. “Were you supposed to have an appointment?”
“No appointment.”
“I see. Well, I apologize, Mr. Bosch, but he only sees peoplebyappointment. I can set one for you now, if you’d like?”
Nah. Not gonna fly.
I peered around, scanning the glass-walled offices toward the periphery before I fixed on one in the back left corner. Juan sat behind a big-ass desk, looking official as he talked with a group of people clustered across from him.
Tapping the wood with my hand, I told her, “All good.” Veering around the counter, I aimed Castillo’s way.
“Mr. Bosch,” the woman called. “Mr. Bosch, you can’t go back there!”
I went back there.
Heads turned, following my progress. Some stood like they thought they should do something but didn’t make a move.
“Mr. Bosch, I’ll be forced to call security.Mr. Bosch!”
Rapping Castillo’s door, I locked my stare with his.
