Dirty Look - Dark Desires

Emilio: Tried to bring you coffee this morning, but you were already gone. Walking your princess to school?

Fuck off, I type, but my finger hovers over the keys. I have to play this right.

I’m practically begging him to report me. I have to find him, make sure he knows not to fuck around with this. Make sure he knows exactly what’s at stake if he does.

But first, Mia. I look at my feed. She’s at her next class, just down the hall.

I shoot Emilio another text.

Meet me outside the cafeteria for lunch. Campus picnic tables under the weeping willow.

We have to talk.

An hour and a half later, we’re sitting at the edge of the cafeteria. Students mill about with trays of food. Emilio pulls out a paper bag with a few slices of pizza and hands me one.

“Okay, man,” he says. “I saw your hands all over her ass last night. Spill.”

“First off, you don’t come in my apartment unannounced anymore.”

He folds his piece of pizza over, takes an enormous bite, then talks around the food he’s chewing.

“Why not?” He’s giving me shit and I know it. There’s a fine line between friends and loyalty in the family, and most know it. I’d tell anyone he’s my friend, but for enough money or prestige, he could turn me in.

“Because if you do, I’ll make sure Piero knows exactly what you were doing last month when you were supposed to be trailing the traitor in Chelsea, and I saved your ass. Remember?”

He was banging his chick-of-the-month, and I caught the guy before he slipped through our fingers.

He winces. “Touché.”

“Seems we both want to keep in Piero’s good graces.”

“Of course.”

“Nothing’s going on between me and his daughter.”

Emilio frowns. “You know, that’s too bad, man. That girl’s got it bad for you. And honestly, you could persuade Piero to your side.”

I groan, take my own slice of pizza, and take a bite. I chew thoughtfully for a moment, thinking about what he’s saying. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “It’s just that in the family, marrying strengthens us, you know? Piero trusted you enough to send you here to America. You fuck his daughter up, then yeah, you’re swimming with the goddamn fishes. You take care of her? Like good care of her? And if she really loves you? Well, hell, man, there ain’t nothing Piero Russo don’t give his daughter.”

“That’s bullshit,” I tell him, shaking my head. I polish off my pizza then pull out my phone and check her location again. I scowl at the screen. She’s still in class after it’s been dismissed? Did she stay for extra credit or something? What the hell?

“Why the fuck is she still in class?”

He looks over at my phone and smirks. “Girl pulled a fast one on ya, bro.”

“Shit.” I’ve got to go to class, but making sure she’s safe is higher on that list. I call her, knowing before I do that she won’t pick up. A man’s voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Who’s this?” I’m on my feet ready to throttle him.

“Hey, take it easy. I just found this phone on the floor of a classroom. When it rang I thought I’d answer it, maybe it was the person who owns it, but…”

“But what?”

“Well, the caller I.D. says ‘dickhead,’ so…I doubt that you’re the owner?”

I shake my head and roll my eyes heavenward.

“No, but I know where she lives. Where are you?”

He gives me his location, and five minutes later, I take the phone from a wide-eyed freshman.

“Professor,” he says in surprise.

Jesus, this is fucked up. I shove the phone in my pocket.

“Right. Well, I’ll return this to its rightful owner. Thank you.”

I’m sure he sees dickhead plastered across my forehead, but I walk away with as much dignity as I can muster.

Where the hell is she? Did she leave her phone on purpose, or did someone hurt her? Where is she right this very minute?

Jesus. I call my dean, tell him I’m unexpectedly sick, and swipe to the video feed on my phone. I stop short, staring at what I see. Every camera to her place has been disconnected.

She’s off the fucking grid.

I wish I didn’t walk to class. Even jogging, it seems like a huge distance between this campus and her apartment. I break into a run.

My breathing’s labored, sweat pouring down my body through this goddamn shirt and tie. I yank off the tie and run harder.

But my real fear is that maybe she didn’t do this on purpose. Maybe someone else did.

Fuck.

When I get to our street, I don’t see anything unusual. Nothing out of place, but if she’s really in danger, they’re likely pros. Someone trying to get back at Piero. Vengeance and retribution are our bread and butter.

I leap up the stairs to her apartment. The door’s unharmed, not broken into. Someone with a key, then? These houses are old, and even with the locks I’ve had installed, they aren’t foolproof.