“Did I scare her that bad?” I asked jokingly as I covered myself with the towel and pushed to my feet.
“She had to leave early. I’ll see you next week.” He ambled around the desks, checking the students’ artwork.
I was about to tell him I would see him at the art gallery tonight then decided not to. I didn’t need the girls in this class knowing my schedule. I stalked behind the partition and made quick work of getting out of the towel and into my clothes. I had a math class I had to get to on the other side of campus.
Once I was outside, the frigid February air hit me like a girl I’d once dumped had slapped me. It was a welcome relief at the moment from the heated room and the crazy trip down memory lane. I zipped up my leather jacket then pulled out my knit cap and covered my head. I made it a few steps before I spied Emma talking to a dude with shoulder-length hair next to an old, beat-up Camaro. He looked my way, causing Emma to do the same before she said something to him. The dude studied me.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and strutted over to them. I wanted to at least apologize to her if I’d scared her.
They scurried into the car like I was a criminal about to shake them down. He peeled out. I stopped in my tracks and winced at an oncoming SUV about to crash into them. At the last second, the SUV swerved, narrowly missing the Camaro. The driver in the SUV honked his horn as he slowed.
I watched the Camaro fade into the distance, wondering what I did to scare them.
2
Lizzie
I spun around in my seat and glanced behind me as Dillon dodged cars on the streets of Boston. My pulse was racing, and I couldn’t get it to slow down. What were the odds that I’d find Kelton Maxwell after all these years, and of all places, posing for an art class in nothing but a darn cowboy hat? His Greek godlike form made my mouth dry, but what had me doing everything I could to hold back tears was the lizard he had inked on his abs and his left arm. He used to call me Lizard. If it weren’t for the itchy red wig covering my dark hair and the green-colored contacts masking my blue-gray eyes, I swore he would’ve recognized me. Then again, I wasn’t sure he hadn’t.
Get a grip, girl. You’re in Boston to find the man who stole your inheritance, not pine over Kelton. I almost laughed at my subconscious. I was sitting in the freaking front row, admiring the boy who’d graced my dreams every night for the last seven years. He still had those piercing blue eyes that contrasted so well with his black hair, and that scar on his chin brought back wonderful memories of playing with him in his tree house. The one difference now—Kelton was all man. An extremely handsome and well-toned man. I was certain he made all the girls drool or squeeze their lady parts. Yikes! I had to squeeze my legs. Not to mention, I had to swallow several times to quell the nerves, excitement, and fear that had coursed through me.
Dillon’s deep baritone drilled through my brain. “You want to tell me what that was all about, and why you were in such a hurry to get away?”
“You can slow down now.” I righted myself just in time to see we were hurtling toward the back end of a dump truck before Dillon cut the wheel hard to the right and into an alley, slamming on his brakes.
I lurched forward slightly, thankful I’d managed to strap myself in. Otherwise, I would be sailing through the windshield right about now.
He threw the car into park. “Who was the pretty boy?” He stabbed a thumb behind him as his thick eyebrows bunched together. “Is he your boyfriend? Tell me. I want to know who you’re messed up with.”
“Fuck off. Who I know or who I’m with is none of your fucking business. I’m paying you to get me a gun and ammo. That’s it. One that can’t be traced.”
His nostrils flared, shifting his skull nose ring. “Sweetheart, I need to know who my clients are. Just because you partied with my cousin twice removed doesn’t mean I trust you. That dude back there looks like the guy who dates Pitt’s princess.”
I scrunched up my nose. “And that means what exactly?” I’d only been in town a week.
“That means I’m not getting involved with the Russian mob. Start talking.” He mashed his lips into a thin line.