It seems like an odd way to end a toast. My need to know everything pricks at my senses and I have to force a bite of the salad course into my mouth to keep from asking Wren what he said to Mr. Barlow. Maybe he threatened him. The dean is frail in comparison to Wren’s broad muscled frame. My overactive imagination supplies an image of Wren callously dangling the old man outside a second floor window to get what he wants.
Not two minutes into the first course, Briar excuses herself like I instructed. Lincoln rests his arm across the back of her empty chair, staring after her with a concerned expression. I cover a laugh with a sip of wine.
Wren doesn’t miss my reaction, raising a brow. “Did you make a friend?”
“Yup.” I tilt my head in his direction and feed him a deadpan response. “Thanks for dropping me off to my first day of preschool, dad.”
The joke flies out of my mouth without my control. Before I can feel weird about my own dead father, it backfires when heat flares in Wren’s cool eyes. They dip to my mouth, down the column of my throat at the open neck of my blouse. My cheeks feel hot and I take a deeper drink of the wine. The corner of Wren’s mouth curls and he returns to eating, smug like he’s learned a new tool to use against me and has filed it away in his arsenal.
“Do you by chance have a brother, Miss Hannigan?” Mr. Barlow asks.
“I do. Ethan, my older brother,” I say, surprised. “Do you know him?”
He nods. “I thought so. You look so alike.”
I lick my lips, trying not to get overexcited. “How do you know him?”
“He interviewed me once, years ago when he was still in college for a hundred year legacy piece. Every generation in my family has attended Castlebrook. I was a student myself and eventually became the dean.” A thoughtful expression crosses his face. “He asked me about the significance of the keys when he first came here, too. You must share his inquisitive nature.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I swallow and grip my knife hard enough for my knuckles to turn white. “He has a really sharp mind.”
The urge to follow Briar to snoop around is strong, but I hold out until dinner ends. Almost everyone joins the dean in a cigar lounge, including Wren. I know it’s crazy to think there’d be anything here. The dean himself said it was an interview from years ago, but I can’t ignore the connection. If there’s a chance there could be a lead on Ethan here, I’m looking for it.
I slip upstairs and pull my phone out, taking photos of anything that catches my eye. There’s less than I hoped, the upstairs hall resembling the one downstairs—photos and paintings of old dead guys who have their name on every building in Maine. I don’t find anything interesting about the dean except for a heavy dose of narcissism. Moving to an office, I hope I’ll find something that could connect to my brother.
The room is dim, lit only by uplighting on the bookcases taking up the wall. It’s a study with twin leather armchairs and a desk. I picture Ethan sitting in one of the chairs while interviewing Dean Barlow for a mind-numbing story about his family history at Castlebrook. Ethan would’ve hated it, I bet. He always liked the stories about secret corruption and money laundering best.
“You’re predictable,” I mumble when a framed article on the bookshelf snags my attention.
It’s the one the dean mentioned about his enduring hundred year legacy. I take a photo of it before turning the frame around. My heart falls when there’s nothing.
“Damn it.”
Putting it back, I release a heavy sigh. It was wishful thinking to believe I might find clues here. Ethan has been obsessed with the story he’s been working on for over a year. He wouldn’t have had contact with someone like the dean for a while.
Before I leave, the lacquered wood molding of the bookcase makes me pause. It has the same crossed keys symbol in the design. I narrow my eyes. It sort of reminds me of the one in the TPU crest. I hold up my phone and capture a closeup on the symbol to sate the feeling nagging me.
The door opens. For a second my heart stops, thinking I’m busted. An excuse springs to the tip of my tongue. It dies when I realize it’s Briar. She looks over her shoulder and I hear what must have sent her scurrying in here—low voices.
She halts when she notices me. I shrug.
“Need me to distract them?” I offer, nodding to the door.
“Yeah. No one can know I was up here.” Breathless, she backs up to the window and undoes the latch. “Thanks.”
When the voices sound closer, I abandon what I was looking at and move to the door. Briar has slipped out the window. Pressing my ear to the wood, I strain to listen.
“—worrying about your problems rather than causing more. You don’t want to disappoint me.” The voice is deep and threatening.
I wait until it sounds like they’ve left before I open the door. Big mistake.
A huge shadowy figure fills the frame, then pushes me back into the study. Fear steals the air from my lungs and a scream climbs my throat, until Wren’s aftershave hits my nose.
“Was that you in the hall?” I breathe. If he’s angry at me for going rogue, I’m not backing down. “How did you know I was up here?”
“Pointless questions,” he rumbles.
My back hits the bookcase I was snooping through. He dips his head, nose tracing the shape of my cheek bone. Oh.
It feels good when he handles me like this, a corner of my brain whispering to let go. It fills my head with a fantasy of kneeling in front of him. Air gusts from my lungs.
He pins me to the shelves with his firm body and I feel his erection. I drag in a heaving gasp, choked by the rush of arousal. When his big hands grip my hips, I clench my thighs together.
“Stop being so impulsive, you curious little kitten.”
My heart skips a beat and a strangled sound escapes me. His voice is a dark and sensual caress against my throat. I shouldn’t want this…but I do.
“Or what?” I push out, gripping the fine material of his jacket.
I feel the curve of his mouth against my skin. His hands flex on my hips. “Or I’ll have to punish you.”
Ten
Wren
I’ve never been so on edge doing work for the Crows. A simple task like tonight should be a walk in the park—shake down a man in power for information and oversee one of the revenue streams that lines our pockets independently of our families. Simple. Yet I’m off-kilter because Rowan is a distraction.
She hasn’t spoken a word to me since I peeled my body away from hers in Barlow's study without continuing what I started. It put her in a pissy little mood and the sway of her plump ass in those tight pants was designed specifically to punish me as much as I want to punish and control her. Instead of reaching out to wring her neck or grab her ass, I shove my fists into the pocket of my slacks as I stalk across the campus toward the student residences.
I crave giving orders and having them obeyed, but it turned me on tonight when she followed her impetuous heart and hunted around for William Barlow’s secrets.
Rowan huffs for the thousandth fucking time and I stretch my neck, closing my eyes at the satisfying pops. If she doesn’t stop testing me with her attitude, I’m going to snap. And when I do, I won’t stop until she’s a ruinous mess begging for mercy that isn’t coming until I’m good and ready to let her go.
“One more stop.” I put steel into my voice so she’ll understand I’m not fucking around. “Behave this time.”
“Yeah, yeah. Or you’ll spank me,” Rowan sasses. “Big bad King Crow with his big dick in charge. I get it.”
I grit my teeth. I want to do so much more than drive my palm against her stubborn ass until it’s red. I nearly fell to the lure she has on me, ready to bend her over Barlow’s desk and fuck her.
Focusing on anything but the way those mental images make my cock swell, I remain silent until we reach the dorm building where one of our grunts runs the game. On the way, I send the recording on my phone of the conversation I had with Barlow to the guys. The dean con
firmed what we already knew—someone in power was cleaning up our captive frat boy’s mess. Now we can deal with it.
By the time I slip my phone back in the inside pocket of my jacket, we arrive at the stone steps descending to the basement apartments of one of the freshman dorms. A bird feeder hangs from a low tree branch, signaling the game is on.
“It’s here.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Rowan stands at the top of the steps, hands on her hips. “It’s a literal underground card game. Cliché much?”
I said as much to Colton, but he assured me that it was the most strategic location on campus in part because he could hide his gadgets that kept the players from cheating and the poker game from being discovered by security.
“I don’t have all night.” With my hand at her back, we go down the stairs. Before she walks in the entrance to the illicit card game, I grab her arm and make her meet my eyes. “I mean it. Keep that pretty mouth shut in here.”
“Yessir,” she snaps, green eyes glittering.
I force the groan that wants to claw its way out of me back down and trace her lower lip with my thumb. “Don’t play this game with me, kitten. You will lose.”
No matter how much I’d enjoy nothing more than that. We’re here on business.
Inside it looks like any other dorm building. The long hall stretches and branches off at the end. I stalk to the left without waiting for Rowan. The guy guarding entry to the game stands, then falls back in his seat once he recognizes me.
“Are there students in these other dorms?”
Does her nosiness have no end? “No.”
“That’s a lot of open housing.”
Clenching my teeth, I elaborate so she’ll leave it. “Colton. He had this floor removed from the school’s housing system. It shows up as a filled in basement.”
“Seriously?” The fact she sounds impressed both irritates and stirs pride in me. It’s a confusing mix. I’m struck by the urge to punch Colt over it. “How do the students not wander down here or say anything?”
I pause outside the door and turn a smug look on her. “Because they’re too busy trying to win back the money they lost to notice.”
When I swing the door open, Rowan’s eyes widen and her lips part. Thanks to Levi, we got the soundproofing right, the energetic din in the room barely audible until we enter. Two tables fill the room, but her insatiable curiosity leads her to the renovations we did a few years ago, connecting all the rooms in the basement to host more games at once. Each table is full of players with one thing in common—the drive to gamble.
“This isn’t just a poker game,” she whispers more to herself than me. “This is a whole ass casino operation.”
I can’t drag my eyes from her as a warm, unfamiliar ember unfurls in my chest. What is it about her that lures me under her spell? Instead of seeking out Tyler, I find myself tracing her steps as she explores. We garner a few glances, but most of the players are wrapped up in their games.
“Why here?” she asks.
“We have one at every campus within an hour radius.”
The fact I’m telling her anything about how we run things should be a warning flag, but she has this way of getting me to ignore my rules.
She whirls to me, mouth hanging open. “That’s like six schools.”
“It is.”
She weaves through the tables, watching a clever looking young black girl in a leather jacket over a purple fishnet shirt punch the air when she wins the pot.
“That’s how it’s done, boys,” she crows at the groaning players at her table while she collects her winnings. Fingering her braids, she winks. “Can’t beat a queen.”
Tyler is in the third room I follow Rowan through, scurrying over. He’s a gangly guy who favors oversized t-shirts and baggy jeans. “Boss. You’re here.”
“I am.” My gaze doesn’t leave her back. She continues on, chasing her hunger for knowledge. I turn my focus to Tyler, a scowl taking over my face. “You know why.”
His throat bobs with a swallow. He rips the beanie from his head and fiddles with it. I lift a brow at the nervous dance of his fingers.
“It’s just—I forgot what day it was, you see, and—”
Tyler flinches when I take a silver lighter from inside my jacket. I flick the ignition methodically and a slow, feral grin stretches my mouth. He can’t look away from the powerful flame of my custom butane lighter.
“Let’s go talk outside.” I wave a hand. “Don’t want to mess with the energy in here. Nervous people don’t bet as much.”
Pinching the back of Tyler’s neck, I lead him into the quiet hall and wait for him to explain why he missed our deadline. The schedule keeps everything else running and if one falls out of balance, they all will. Me and my brothers didn’t spend years building this system to have it fall apart because of a sniveling shit like Tyler.
He doesn’t speak. The panicked expression tells me what I already know—the money is gone. I sigh and flick the lighter.
“Tyler, Tyler, Tyler. You’re disappointing me and I hate when my expectations aren’t met.” I keep my voice light, but the dangerous edge in my tone is clear. “I can’t let that slide.”
“I, please, I didn’t—”
“Shut up.” I drop the understanding act, tolerance growing thin. “You’re going to confess your mistake. And it was a mistake, wasn’t it? You wouldn’t be stupid enough to think it was a good idea to cross us. If you’re lucky, I won’t kill you for it.”
“Oh god,” Tyler chokes. “I don’t want to die, man.”
He tries to fight me when I grab his wrist. I glare at him, digging my fingers into his flesh. He’s no match for my strength when I have my thumb jabbing the tendons in his wrist. With a mangled sound, he stops struggling, whimpering when I hold the lighter under his palm and flick the trigger without letting the flame catch.
“Tell me,” I demand. “I’m not a patient man, Tyler. Don’t keep me waiting.”
He holds out longer than I expect for someone who seems ready to wet himself at the sight of me. I ignite the lighter and wave it beneath his palm. For every pass, I hold the flame under his hand a little longer so he can feel the heat building. His whole body shakes and his eyes bounce between the fire and me.
I work my jaw. “You’re starting to piss me off.”
“It wasn’t that much,” he finally says in a rush. “It was—it was only a little here and there. I was gonna be short, and I knew it.”
Here and there. This wasn’t a one time occurrence. He was skimming off the top.
At my irritated growl, Tyler shudders. His beady eyes fly around the hall for a rescue that isn’t coming.
“So you skipped payment,” I spell out. “And thought you got away with it when no one said anything.”
He nods miserably. “I needed the money.”
To feed a drug habit if his disgusting nails and the sallow bags beneath his eyes are anything to go by. Fucking junkie stole from me and blew it all on a chemical binge. My lip curls and I twist my grip on his wrist, wanting to break it. But that wouldn’t be enough pain for this transgression.
Rowan steps into the hall, looking around with a puzzled crease in her brow like she’s searching for me until she takes in the scene. She freezes. I can’t exactly dispose of a body with her around. I’ll have to have Penn come down from his hermit cabin in the woods to take care of this later. Her presence doesn’t deter me from doling out a punishment now, though.
I tip my head to the side and study Tyler. “Do you know what they say about crows?”
“What?” His glassy eyes blink slowly.
“They always remember the faces of those who crossed them. Bad fucking idea,” I snarl.
He screams in agony and terror when I break his wrist anyway, then force his hand down on the flame from the lighter, holding it there until his skin cooks. I release him and he slouches against the wall, pale and panting heavily.
“W-why,” Tyler moans
, hand trembling as he cradles it protectively.
The smell of his burnt skin is foul, stinking up the hallway.
“So everyone knows not to steal from the Crows,” I grit out. After a beat, I smile unpleasantly. “Be thankful. You get to live another day.”
More like live a few more hours until Penn hunts him down. We have no remorse for those that think they can dupe us at our own game.
Rowan releases a small sound of horror, hand covering her mouth. I glance her way, not sorry she saw. Her whole body is like a bow strung too tight that’s about to snap, ready to spring into action.
“Keep what I said in mind.” I put the lighter away and smooth the lines of my lapels. “Crows don’t forget our enemies.”
Tyler nods frantically and scurries away when I jerk my chin in permission. Rowan watches him go. When his wheezing and quick shuffling steps are no longer audible, she strides up to me, green eyes spitting a fire as potent as the one burning in me.
“That was…”
She trails off, at a loss for words. I’ve finally found out how to stop her constantly running mouth.
“Necessary,” I finish.
“No, it was brutal,” she corrects, leaning against the wall to drop her head back. Her throat works and I want to lean in to mark it up with my teeth. “Barbaric. You didn’t have to go that far.”
The constant anger simmering in my blood threatens to boil over. She’s judging me and a savage part of me wants to go toe to toe with her and show her she’ll never win with me. I’ve been playing nice, but she’s just like every other person that crawls to us begging for our favor. She lied to our faces, hid the secret she’s keeping. And she thinks she has a right to judge me?
Those in power have to act to stay in control. It’s a truth as old as humanity itself.
“So I should’ve let the punk continue to steal from me? To undermine my businesses? No, Rowan. This is what we do. This is who we fucking are.” I slam my hands on the wall on either side of her and get in her face, growling my last warning. “This is what you came to us for. If you didn’t want monsters, you shouldn’t have come looking in the darkness for help.”
Crowned Crows of Thorne Point: A Dark New Adult Romantic Suspense Page 8