When Rivals Lose (Bayshore Rivals 2)

His words come out as a threat, but something tells me he’ll do exactly what he says. Not wanting the situation to blow up further, I turn to Banks.

“Hey, it’s fine. I promise I’ll be okay,” I whisper, trying to calm him down, all while he continues to scowl at Professor Brown. A few moments pass, and I worry Banks will push the matter, but then he looks over at me, his eyes softening as they connect with mine.

“Fine,” Banks growls, the single word dripping with suffocating disdain. “I’ll pick you up at the end of class,” he directs the words at me, before shoving out of his seat. Then he leans forward and gives me a quick peck on the lips before turning toward the door.

Once he’s left the room, I force a smile, but it’s not returned by the professor, or anyone else, for that matter. Well, at least Tiffany is not in this class. It’s a small positive, but I’ll take it either way.

Prof. Brown goes back to the front of the class, and a heavy silence blankets the room. Half-way through class things have finally settled down enough for me to actually learn something. I might not be able to pass this class, but I can pick up some stuff, at least, to make next semester easier.

When a loud knocking interrupts the professor’s speech about different research methods, I half expect the door to open and there to be one of the Bishop brothers. Instead, the door frame is filled with my two bodyguards, Ernie and Bert. At the sight of them, I slouch down into my chair, picking up one of my textbooks, lifting it and holding it in front of my face.

“Can I help you?” Prof. Brown sighs in frustration.

“Yes, we need one of your students to come with us immediately. It’s a family emergency,” Bernie says.

Family emergency?

“Miss. Lockwood…” He scans the room and finds me almost immediately. “Please, this is very important,” he urges. I’m waiting for the feeling of dread and worry to hit me. He said family emergency that usually means someone is hurt.

I should be worried and scared, but neither feeling comes. Instead, I feel… annoyed. Nonetheless, I gather my things up and stuff everything into my backpack, before flinging it over my shoulder, and making my way to the door.

As soon as I reach the door, my security flanks me, as if they are protecting me from some imaginary threat.

“What kind of family emergency is it?” I question.

“Let me carry your bag for you,” one of the guys suggests and takes my bag from my shoulder before I can respond. Blinking slowly, I stare up at him.

I can carry my own things.

Annoyed as hell, I follow the two goons out, hoping that Banks is waiting outside the door for me. Disappointment fills my gut when he isn’t there, and I’m left alone with the security guards my father sent. It isn’t until we’re outside, and walking toward the parking lot that I realize they’re not trying to keep someone from getting to me, they are trying to stop me from leaving.

I dig my heels into the ground, stopping instantly. They must have expected the move because they stop a split second later, each grabbing onto one of my arms. Instantly, I’m restrained.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yell, demanding an answer. Instead of answering me, they just tighten their grips. My lip curls in anger.

“Tell me now, or I’ll scream.”

Bert, I think, squeezes my arm, “Your dad asked us to bring you to him, he is very worried about you…and your safety.”

My safety?

“I don’t give a crap what my father asked you to do or what he is worried about. I’m an adult. You can’t just pull me out of class, and force me to go with you. It’s kidnapping.”

Before I know it, I’m being dragged across the parking lot, the two guys tugging me along by my arms. Try as I might to dig my feet into the asphalt, nothing stops their movements, and soon we’re at a black SUV.

For some reason, only then do I think about screaming and calling for help.

“Help! I’m being kidnapped!” I yell at the top of my lungs while attempting to stomp my feet into the ground and make as much noise as possible. The two men don’t even blink at me.

One of the guys opens the door to the SUV while the other one pushes me inside, holding my head down, so I don’t bump it against the door frame. As soon as I’m in the car, he closes the door behind me. I grab the handle and pull on it frantically, but of course, it’s locked. I scoot across the bench and over to the other side and try that door.