Riot (Predators MC 1)
Why couldn’t they find any information on her before Stephenville? Rave hadn’t been able to find any proof she had attended UT other than that was what she had stated on her job application for the college she had attended.
“Get Rave to meet up with Grace’s boss again. Try to get more from him, too.”
“That’s not going to be easy. She managed to catch him when he was piss-assed drunk at the local bar. The dude’s engaged and hasn’t returned any of her calls so far.”
Ice’s lips gave a twisted smile. “Have her stop by his office.”
Jackal laughed. “He won’t be happy.”
Ice shrugged. “We need that information. I don’t like going into things blind. So far, we’re a go, but I sure as shit don’t want any surprises at the last minute.”
“Me, either.” Jackal stared at his president hard. “You cool?”
“Always.” Ice turned away, leaving Jackal staring at his back. He wasn’t used to his men questioning him.
Going to one of the tables, he sat with a group of men, playing cards to distract himself. Time dragged on minute by minute.
He was sick of this place and could feel the heightening tensions of his men. If Church set their timetable back because of the addition of extra guards to the classroom, Ice would personally kick his ass, despite wanting to keep his distance from the fucker.
Unless Rave came up with something important, he wasn’t going to call off his plan. His men were counting on getting out, and he had every intention of making it happen.
* * *
“Why are you so mad at me?” CeCe asked.
Grace took another bite of her salad. “Did I or did I not tell you last week to quit talking to my mother after you told her I was teaching at the prison?”
“Yes, so?”
“Then why did I get a text message today wanting to know why I didn’t accept Professor Jones’s invitation?”
“Sorry. I try, Grace. I really do, but she’s like an inquisitor. She doesn’t stop until she gets the information she wants.”
“Then tell her no, or better yet, quit talking to her,” Grace said angrily.
“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”
“You couldn’t hurt my mother’s feelings if you tried,” Grace stated without sympathy.
“What do you want me to do? Block her calls?”
“Yes.” Grace pointed her fork at her friend. “It’s your fault I’m teaching that class and don’t think I don’t know you encouraged Jones to ask me out.” She was about to deny the truth until Grace stopped her. “Don’t deny it. Jones is so shy I was afraid he was going to have an anxiety attack when he asked me.”
“And you told him no?”
Grace lowered her eyes to her salad at CeCe’s recriminating gaze. “Yes. He’s not my type.” Grace began eating her salad again.
CeCe snorted. “What exactly is your type? Every single man in town has asked you out, and you’ve turned them all down.”
“I’m not ready to settle down. I enjoy my freedom.”
“What freedom? You stay locked up in your house other than when you teach, go to the grocery store, or mow your lawn.”
“I like to be by myself,” Grace prevaricated.
“Don’t lie, Grace.” CeCe’s voice softened. “No one likes to be alone.”
“I do,” Grace insisted.
Her friend looked at her doubtfully yet changed the subject. “How is the class at the prison going?”
“Fine.”
CeCe stopped eating, leaning forward and giving Grace her full attention. “Any hotties?”
Grace frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Grace, tell. It’s just me. Any of them getting your panties in a knot?”
“No!” Grace denied heatedly.
CeCe’s direct stare narrowed on her. “I think you’re telling another lie.”
“I am not,” Grace said, her face becoming red.
CeCe leaned back in her chair, laughing. “Girl, you’ve got to tell me now.”
Grace bit her lip, wanting to throw her iced tea on CeCe. “They’re convicts!”
“That doesn’t mean they aren’t hot. Don’t you watch Prison Wives, Cops, or Studs Behind Bars?”
“No, I don’t.” Grace straightened primly in her seat.
“You should. There’s one or two I’m thinking of getting onto the visitors’ list for.”
“You’re not,” Grace said, shocked.
“No, but I thought about it. Be real for just a minute. None of them are good-looking?”
“There may be one,” she admitted as her fork played with a lettuce leaf.
“What does he look like?” CeCe’s eager face had Grace giving in despite herself.
“He’s tall, broad-shouldered, but he’s not heavy. You know what I mean?”
“Oh, yes, I do.” CeCe’s eyes went dreamy. “Go on.”
“He has blondish-brown hair, but it’s browner. He has ice-blue eyes and tattoos on both his arms.”
“Maybe if you call in sick, Ross would let me teach your class.”
“We both know that’s not going to happen.”
“Damn Elliot. He cost me more trouble than he was worth. I didn’t sleep with him, but I actually cared about him. He thought because I cared about him I would give him a higher grade. When I didn’t, he went to Ross and said we had an affair. Grace, he’s twenty-three. Young, for me, I know, but I actually was stupid enough to think we could have a relationship after he finished my class. I screwed up, and I know it.”