Page 26 of A Twist of Poison

Him: I’ll deal with it.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, I felt sort of bad for the maid as she’d get a tongue lashing. But the secrets close to my chest needed to be guarded more than my need to protect her from potential job loss.

I packed up my items, throwing my lunch rubbish in the trash. I made my way to the building where my subject lectures were held, moving through the writhing bodies journeying to their own rooms. I slid into a spare seat as others took places around me. The class started and everything else fell away as I immersed myself in information.

* * *

Now, more than ever, I felt the secrets I kept hidden bubbling up, wanting to escape from their confines where they’d been locked down with iron chains. Could I drag people into my mess? No. Simply, no.

As appealing as the idea of reaching out to ask for help was, doing it would set events into motion that no one could prepare for the fallout.Plus the last two times you reached out for help didn’t go so well. I pushed away that guilt over the police officer, wishing I could go back in time before all this started, but even if I could go back, I wouldn’t belong there anymore. I had to let go of the illusion that it could have been different, as much as it pained me to admit.

Finishing my lectures for the day, I wove through the students, hoping there wouldn’t be a long queue for the golf buggy transportation. My body was weighed down with exhaustion and I just wanted to get back to the privacy of my room.

Soon enough, one became available after a brief wait, and once again the porter, whose name I hadn’t got yet, materialised. Anyone would think he’d been directly hired for me, which was concerning in itself. Was this his doing? Had he sent someone to keep a closer eye on me? It seemed strange that he hung around the campus, taking on a variety of different jobs and then turned up at the Mayor’s home for the party.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I gingerly slid into the seat, trying my hardest to keep any discomfort I was feeling from my face. It didn’t work judging by the assessing look he cast over me.

“Miles,” he replied gruffly. He started the buggy and steered it toward my dorm. Taking his eyes off me, I released a breath that I didn’t realise I was holding.

He unnerved me. I watched the scenery as we passed, and I felt his eyes keep diverting back to me, taking measure.Fuck off. Stop staring, asshole. I held back the words that tried to scrape out my throat; I knew it was a deflection tactic, and I’d gotten the strongest feeling that he would know it too.

So, I gritted my teeth, ignoring the unspoken words that thrummed between us as we arrived. I jumped out so quickly, forgetting the discomfort as I involuntarily winced, quietly. He heard, of course he did. Opening his mouth to say something, I gave my thanks as I power walked into the building, not looking back to see his reaction.

Chapter11

Preston

To be me was a blessing. I was coveted: men wanted to be me, and women wanted me to be in them. No word of a lie.

My half Asian heritage from the druggie waste of space of a mother—who upped and left when I was a kid—brought mystery to my features. As well, of course, as being known as the easy-going, good-looking one within the dynamics of our group. They weren’t wrong.

At six-foot-two, I had a body that others were resentful of, and ink black hair that took me forever and a day to make it look like the ‘I didn’t even try’ style. And brown eyes that saw everything.

You couldn’t expect one part of someone’s personality to be everything about them. There was depth to every single person. The good, the bad and the downright fucking ugly. Not everyone got to see it all.

With me, they saw the sides I allowed them to. I was selective, because not everybody deserved certain parts of me. On one hand, I could probably count the people who had seen the expanse of my whole being, those people I trusted with my life. Trust was earned, not given. It had taken a few lessons for that to sink in.

Not everyone had your back, but plenty had knives to stab it.

Yawning loudly, I rolled out of bed heading towards the bathroom stretching my arms above my head as I went, knocking those kinks out of my back on the way. After a quick shower and a brush of the teeth as standard, I took time in picking my outfit for the day. I prized my designer clothing collection. It made me look good, made me feel even better. And who refused to feel like that? I’d never admit out loud that it was a mini addiction.

My black distressed jeans and plain navy-blue t-shirt hugged my biceps magnificently.Oh yeah, gonna be flexing those today.And they’d all watch, panting like usual. Don’t get me wrong, I loved attention, but only when I decided to revel in it. I was a paradox of emotions.

I sat down on the couch in my bedroom pulling on the new white hi-top sneakers I’d recently purchased, standing up to look at the result in the mirror.Yep, you look fuckable.Quickly styling my short hair, I gave it that just rolled outta bed look—because I basically just did—I headed downstairs to find the boys to walk through our plans today. Things to do, people to see.

I found Hollis in the kitchen, putting together one of his disgustingly healthy shakes withwaytoo many green items involved. Healthy bastard. Booty Wurk by T-Pain blasted on the surround system speakers, making me grin. I automatically started nodding my head to the beat, making my way towards the fridge next to where Hollis stood, pouring his shake from the blender into a bottle.How could you not dance to this song?

I opened the fridge, grabbed a cold water, and knocked the door closed with my hip. I moved round where Hollis was drinking, he stared at me in disdain as I moved my body more as per the song’s suggestion.

I noticed the tiniest smirk tip one corner of his mouth before being wiped away just as quickly. Trying to make Hollis smile was like getting blood from a stone, but it was so worth it. He needed to allow it out more often, although he claimed I smiled too much, which I honestly didn’t see a problem with. I must have been making up for the lack of his, our broody ass brother clearly loved looking like a surly ass stone on a continual basis.

“We need to get down to headquarters,” he voiced between gulps.

Texas grunted, making his way to sit on the kitchen island bar stool. He appeared half asleep, nowhere near dressed to leave. I bit back the words that I wanted to spew in his direction.Lazy son of a bitch.

But for one, I didn’t want to insult his mom, who must be a gift from the angels dealing with two hot tempered men and soothing their fury. And secondly, I’d prefer not to have my magnificent face pummelled. I’d learned my lesson with Texas, sort of.

Within the Owls, I was a glorified male prostitute or that’s what I liked to sum it up as—it sounded more appealing when you threw sex into the mix. I retrieved information by friendlier methods compared to Texas’ brute force torture or Hollis’ commanding demeanour. We wouldn’t even get started on the rest of the team.

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