Page 22 of Falling for Carla

“I’m not going to leave you here without a car. I said I’d take you back to the university parking. It’s not a problem. I’m free the rest of the day.”

“I’m sure you have plans,” I demurred, not wanting to accept more kindness from him. It felt too much like it would create an obligation, too much like I’d start to trust him and want him around. I couldn’t take that risk. “Really. I’m fine.”

“I hate to bring this up, Carla, but I have to ask, how much you know about your father’s business dealings?” he asked.

I cringed inwardly and felt my armor snap back in place, the defensive sarcasm I’d used for years as a buffer.

“Enough to know I don’t want anything to do with it. I moved out to California. That sends a pretty clear message, no?”

“Is that why you want to be a cop?”

“Partly. I got mugged when I was a freshman out here, and the officer who responded was so helpful. She really gave me my first good example of what law enforcement can be like—informative, kind, effective. It felt a little rebellious, studying to be on the right side of the law for a change. The other part is, I know enough of what my dad and brother have done to feel like, maybe if I fight for the other side I can balance out some of the harm they’ve done. I can give back some of what they’ve taken.”

“You don’t owe anyone a debt like that,” he said, and it struck too close to the bone.

“No, I’m not the sacrificial lamb. That was my mother,” I said, my voice bitter with sadness underneath. “I’m not an undercover Mob agent or anything, if that was what you’re wondering. Not that I’d tell an ex-cop and Crim 4 professor if I was.”

“I doubt you’d advertise your involvement with the underworld. Especially not to me. I don’t have any claim on your confidence. But I couldn’t help noticing you were targeted for attacks twice in a week. That doesn’t have the random college town mugging vibe. That’s more personal. It could be affiliated with your father’s rivals. I just want you to be careful.”

“Do you think I’m not careful? I was going to class. I wasn’t buying drugs in the backroom of some club or fencing stolen phones,” I said indignantly.

“I realize that you weren’t doing anything reckless. I just want you to be okay, Carla. That may sound strange coming from someone who is just your professor. But your safety is important, and if you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, just know that you can call me or message me. I’ll be there.”

I swallowed a lump of tears that formed in my throat. Had anyone but Brenda or my mom ever been that person for me? The one I could call when I needed someone? I’d had a lonely time of it, with no one I could trust. What he was offering me, friendship, loyalty, was intoxicating. I wanted it so much that a knot formed in my chest. I couldn’t let myself reach out for him. I had to push him away, both for his safety and my wellbeing. I could fall for this guy so easily, so quickly that I wouldn’t know what hit me. It would be a mistake all around.

Besides the shady ethics of a professor and student entanglement, there was the ex-cop and mobster’s daughter dynamic. But the real problem was that I might be tough as nails and let loose with a sharp kick to the balls when it was needed, but my heart couldn’t take losing anyone else. There was too much sadness and loss in my past for me to withstand another blow. I was strong as long as I was alone. If I fell in love—and it was so close, I could scent it along with his cologne—the breakup would fucking slaughter me. I wasn’t about to let this well-meaning, stand-up guy cut straight to my heart.

“That’s really nice of you,” I said coolly. “But I have people I can call if there’s a problem. If you’re ready we can head back to my car since you’re insistent on driving me,” I said with a tight smile that implied that I was doing him a favor and being patient with him. Even my face knew it was a lie. Inside I wanted to grab onto his arm and keep him there on the couch with me. I wanted to sling my legs across his lap and ask him not to move. I craved his closeness, his voice and the physical presence of him. The size and shape of him from fantastic shoulders to those big hands were everything I desired. I cleared my throat and stood up.

My phone rang and Dom’s number flashed on the screen. The familiar flare of irritation spiked through me, but I held up a finger to tell Drake to wait a second. I answered the phone.

“Dom?” I answered.

“You have to come home,” he said, his voice strained and sounding wrong.

“What?” I asked.

“Dad’s dead.”

After that all I heard was a buzzing in my ears. It could have been static from the phone or just blind panic. I knew I dropped the phone and looked at Drake like he would know what to do. The words rattled around in my brain, a meaningless string of sounds I couldn’t make sense of.

CHAPTER 17

DRAKE

She answered the phone and in just ten seconds I watched the color drain from her face. Gone was the healthy glow of her complexion and the rosiness that her cheeks had taken on while she tried to bicker with me. She looked ashen and somehow less tough and strong and confident. She seemed to shrink into herself before my eyes.

Her phone fell. I picked it up and offered it to her, but she shook her head. Her hands were shaking, her eyes wide and searching. She was looking at me as if I should understand something that had happened or fix it for her. Her expression was naked, vulnerable.

Before I could ask her what happened, I heard the screech of tires outside. I went to the window and saw what I knew I’d see. The car from the university parking lot, and another one identical to it, squealing to a stop beside her building. Instinct took over and I grabbed her arm. Quick and silent, I opened the door to her apartment and took her into the empty hallway. I turned the opposite direction from the steps we’d come up to get there. I found the exit for the fire escape and yanked her out onto the metal platform as I heard boots thundering up the stairs toward her apartment.

I held her there until I heard the crash as they breached her apartment door. Then I got her down the fire escape. She seemed to be locked in place, shock or terror seizing her, so I practically had to carry her. Once we were on the ground again, she reached for my hand and gripped it. I hurried us to my car and got her into the passenger side, practically shoving her in and shutting the door. I got into the driver’s seat and locked the doors. Then I pulled out casually, not wanting to draw attention to us. When I got to the main thoroughfare, I gunned it, weaving in and out of traffic to put distance between us and her building.

I dialed Brent and he answered on the first ring

“You know that war you told me about? It’s on.”

“Drop me your location and I’ll look into it. Glad you got out of there. Tell me more later?”

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