Page 112 of Kings & Corruption

I'd just turned around and started for the closed door, a thrill of victory surging in my chest, when it opened.

I stopped in my tracks, my heart stuttering in my chest as a stern older woman entered the room. I recognized her from my recon visit to the lounge. She’d been the one who looked at me disapprovingly while I’d flirted with Professor Ryan.

She registered a moment of surprise when she saw me standing there alone.

“This is the teachers’ lounge,” she said. “You're not supposed to be in here.”

My brain short-circuited while I fumbled for an explanation. It took me a second to remember the plan.

"I… I'm looking for Professor Ryan?" I reached into my bag and pulled out my notebook. "He said to meet him here to get some work I missed.”

The woman’s expression relaxed, although she still didn’t look pleased. “Well, as you can see, Professor Ryan isn't here. You'll have to wait in the hall.”

“Right, sure. Sorry.” I made my way to the door brushing past her and hoping her eyes didn't go right to the empty case.

I didn't know what I’d expected to find when I got back into the hallway.

The police? Campus security?

But it didn't matter, because everything was just as I’d left it, Rock still talking to Brady and students crowding the halls, their minds and attention on their own problems.

Rock looked down at me as I rejoined him. “All set?”

“Yeah, he wasn't there.” I shrugged. “I'll just come later.”

He nodded and said his goodbyes to David and we headed down the hall toward the front of the admin building.

I half expected to be stopped by a shout, but a few seconds later we were out the door and heading back to the car.

“Sorry about the old bat,” Rock said. “She got by me too fast while David was running his mouth.”

“It's okay,” I said. “I told her I was looking for Professor Ryan.” Rock didn't look at me as we continued to the car but I could hear the smile in his voice. “Was that before or after you got the medals?”

I looked up at him and grinned, refusing to show any of my earlier nervousness. “After, of course.”

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him as we walked. “That's my girl,” he said excitedly, kissing the top of my head.

I was embarrassed by how happy the compliment made me, not to mention the term of endearment.

What the actual fuck was happening?

Chapter50

Willa

It was afternoon when we got back to Daniel’s house. I convinced Rock to stay in the car as lookout while I returned the keys. At this time of day, I was just as worried Daniel might have a visitor as I was about him waking up while I was in his house. Rock would wait outside and text me if anyone showed up while I snuck back in and returned the keys to the bowl.

Whether because of my recent victory stealing the medals or because this was my second time breaking into Daniel’s house, I wasn’t as nervous as I’d been that morning, and I hurried along the side yard, the keys already balled in my fist to minimize noise once I was inside.

I hesitated next to the sliding glass door leading to the kitchen, listening for running water or any other sound that might indicate Daniel was awake. When I didn't hear anything, I peered through the glass door and found the kitchen as empty as it had been that morning.

I slid the door open and left it that way as I crept down the hall toward the foyer. The house was still quiet, which made sense, given that less than three hours had passed since we’d stolen the keys. If Daniel worked the night shift, he probably slept until late afternoon.

I set the keys in the bowl slowly, releasing my grip a little at a time to avoid making noise as the metal keys hit the ceramic bowl. They clinked a little, but it must have sounded louder to my ears than it actually was, because there were no sounds from upstairs to indicate I’d woken up Daniel Longhat.

I exhaled the breath I’d been holding a little at a time, my gaze straying to the living room and the book on the coffee table. It was stupid, but I couldn’t help being curious.

I glanced at the stairs, then stepped carefully over the old wood floors, stopping when I reached the coffee table. I looked at the textbook, its title now visible:The Associated Press Guide to News Writing.

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