by Welsh, Hope
He figured he’d find her on his own and keep Kevin out of it. The last thing he wanted to do was get him into trouble. He knew damn well that Kevin would have helped him whatever way he could—despite possible repercussions.
When they arrived at Russo’s, Kevin stopped at the valet stand. He absently tossed over his keys and held the door for Brandon.
“I’m not sure they’ll let me in,” Brandon said as they entered the dimly lit restaurant. “Don’t they still require a jacket here?”
“Oh hell,” Kevin said. “I forgot about that!”
The hostess came up to them with a smile. “I can loan you a jacket, sir,” she said brightly. “It’s not a problem at all.”
Kevin obviously came here often, Brandon mused as the pretty hostess handed him a black jacket. He slipped it on and smiled at the girl. “Thank you.”
“Of course, sir. Would you follow me, please?”
Once they were seated, and their drink orders placed, Kevin leaned back in his chair. “So, what are your plans, Brandon? You must have thought about it.”
Brandon nodded. Oh yes, he’d thought about it. A lot. “I’m not sure yet, really. I suppose I’ll look for some kind of work. But not right away. I’m assuming I can afford to be picky?”
Kevin nodded. “Of course you can. There’s more than enough in your trust fund to support you. I made sure your finances were handled. I was rather surprised when that woman didn’t try a civil suit.”
Brandon hadn’t even considered that possibility. “Can she?”
Kevin nodded soberly. “I’m afraid so, and she could win it. Stay away from her, Brandon. She’s not worth it.”
That was debatable, but Brandon only nodded. “I know, Kevin. Quit worrying.”
“It’s my job to worry,” he muttered and took a drink of his gin.
Brandon had never been much of a drinker, but he’d ordered a scotch and water on the rocks anyway. It’d been two years, after all. He took a sip of his own drink, and winced. “Wow. I’d almost forgotten what alcohol tasted like.”
Kevin grinned. “You’ve always been more the beer type. I’m surprised he ordered that.”
Brandon shrugged. “Figured why not.”
When the server came, Brandon ordered steak. He just wasn’t in the mood for Italian, but he did want real meat. “Medium well,” he added. “With fries. Steak fries.” Man, how he’d longed for fries. He never had had the refined palate like Kevin.
Kevin ordered a steak as well, and when they were alone again, sighed. “I didn’t think. You’d have rather had McDonalds, wouldn’t you?”
Brandon grinned. “I don’t mind a good steak at all, Kevin. Quit worrying. I’m just glad to be free and to be sitting here with you.”
Kevin relaxed. “Man, it’s good to spend time with you again. I’ve missed you.”
“You saw me twice a week, Kevin,” he pointed out.
“It’s not the same, and you know it.”
No, it hadn’t been the same at all, but he was still very thankful that Kevin had stood by him when no one else had. Kevin had always believed that he’d been innocent. He’d been the only one to believe him, unfortunately. He was glad his parents hadn’t lived to see him put in prison.
“What are you thinking?” Kevin asked quietly.
Brandon sighed. “I was thinking about Mom and Dad. I hate like hell that they died—but I’m glad they never had to see me in a cage.”
“They’d have stood by you, Brandon. You know that.”
“I know they would have—and it would have killed them to see me in there,” he said bitterly.
“It’s over, Brandon.”
That was just it—it wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
Of course, he couldn’t say that to Kevin. “Yeah, it’s over.”
Chapter Three
Amanda couldn’t find the RA, and the Bursar’s office was no help at all. Apparently, at least for now, she’d have to deal with having a roommate.
She walked back down the crowded halls to her room. It was almost lunch time, and most of the students were between classes.
When she opened her room, she found Tracy sitting at her desk. “Um?”
Tracy turned in the chair with a smile. “Oh, you’re back! Did your class go well?”
“Sure,” she lied. “I see they brought you a bed.”
Apparently, there was enough room for two beds after all. A second twin bed had been placed next to the wall. Now, the two beds were shaped like an L in the room. The middle left little room for movement, but if she didn’t leave school, Amanda knew she could make-do.
“They just brought it. And I had my sheets and stuff in the car. I’m so excited to be here! I like being around people too much to have done classes online,” Tracy said happily. “I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your desk?”
“Uh, guess not. There isn’t room for two in here, so we can share it.” Mandy made a mental note to be sure she left nothing important in the room—not that she had anything that could be used against her in here, of course. “So, what’s your major?”
“I’m undecided. I’m just taking general courses this semester. I don’t have to declare a major until next year.”
“Oh.”
Tracy laughed. “You probably think I’m nuts, huh? But, I want to explore my options. The whole college experience. What are you majoring in?”
“Education,” Amanda said. “I think I’m going to teach.” If only, she added silently. Teachers were fingerprinted as part of background checks.
“Oh really! Wow. I always kind of thought teachers were underpaid and overworked.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that.” Amanda sat on her bed. “It’s just something that I’ve always wanted to do.” That was true, as far as it went. When she’d been in high school, she’d thought she would graduate, go to college and become a teacher. She’d wanted to take time to have fun first, though—so had put off applying. Then, her life had taken a turn that led to the nightmare she lived in now.
“So, they have a good program here at Vincent for that?” Tracy asked.
“Sure,” Amanda said. No, Vincent wasn’t one of the best schools, but it was one that was three states away from Brandon Walsh, which she hoped was far enough. “I like it here.”
“What do you do for fun here?”
Amanda didn’t know how to answer that. Of course, she didn’t go out and do much of anything. She forced a smile. “I’m not sure what the kids do around here. I know there are a few frats, so I’d guess there are a lot of parties. I pretty much concentrate on my studies.” That was true, she decided. No need to elaborate—not that she’d even consider it. Her life—and more importantly, Brandon’s—depended on her keeping her secret from everyone.
“Oh, I want to do the whole college scene,” Tracy insisted. “Drink too much. Study and pass my classes. Chase hot guys. Are there hot guys in the dorm?”
Vincent had co-ed dorms. Amanda wasn’t blind, and knew there were some guys around that most would consider ‘hot’. She was more into tall, dark, and clean-shaven cops. Or she had been. She hadn’t even looked at a man since Brandon. “Yeah, I guess.”
Tracy nodded sagely. “I take it you have a boyfriend?”
“No. Why would you think that?” Amanda asked quickly.
“Well, I think most college girls are looking, don’t you?”
Hell, she didn’t know what most college girls did. She wasn’t most college girls—and never would be. “I guess.”
Tracy’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s okay if you’re…um…not into guys.”
Amanda laughed. Tracy thought she was a lesbian? “I’m straight.”
“Thank god. I’m not sure what I’d have done if you were…you know…into me or something.”
Amanda laughed again. It felt good, if she was honest with herself. “No, I’m not into girls, I promise. I just am more concerned with my program here. I want to do well.”
; “Girl, you are missing out. You have your whole life to be mature and responsible. Live a little!”
“We’ll see,” Mandy hedged. Live a little? Yeah, as if.
*~*~*
By the end of the day, Amanda discovered that Tracy had indeed been assigned here to her room, so she wasn’t worried that someone had sent her—at least not quite as much.
As much as she wanted to distance herself from the students, she knew that people would also talk if she was a total recluse, so when Tracy had found a party at one of the frats, she’d reluctantly agreed to go with her.
Maybe if she interacted a bit more, her teachers wouldn’t ask questions she couldn’t answer.
Tracy brought her out of her musings when she held up a tiny dark blue dress. “What about this one?”
Mandy looked at the dress. “It’s pretty,” she said. “You should wear it.”
Tracy giggled and raced to the bathroom to put on the tiny dress as Mandy shook her head. She herself had dressed in a long, black skirt and a purple sweater. Nice, but not obviously trolling, she’d decided. She even put on the glasses she didn’t really need unless she was reading.
The last thing she wanted to worry about was being hit on at some party.
When Tracy came out of the bathroom, Mandy had to admit that the girl looked good. The dress wasn’t as short as she’d first thought, and it hugged her curves, as she was sure Tracy knew.
There was little doubt Tracy would get hit on if that was her goal. “Looks good.”
“I know, right? I love this dress. It’s my ‘not-sure-what-to-wear-but-want-hot’ dress.”
Mandy shook her head and chuckled. “I thought that was supposed to be a little black number.”
“Nah. Black is out. Besides, blue looks better on me.”
By the time they reached the party and paid the $5.00 fee for a red cup Mandy had no intentions of filling with anything alcoholic, she was already regretting deciding to come.
The room was filled with people. Most of them were drunk or well on their way. Of course, at twenty-three, she was of age, but she’d bet her last dollar half these kids weren’t over eighteen or nineteen. She shrugged, knowing it was a common theme in colleges everywhere. Her own plastic cup was filled with Coke.
She stood by the edge of the living room and tried to look invisible. The music was blaring, but not bad. Maroon 5 was a great group. Still, there were too many people. She really just wanted to go back to the dorm.
Twenty minutes later, she’d made up her mind to do just that. She weaved her way through the maze of bodies and to the door of the frat house.
Once outside, she gave a sigh of relief. Parties had never really been her thing—not even when she’d been in high school. She sat on the steps and wondered if she should walk back or take one of the shuttles.
The campus offered shuttle service until midnight on weekends and till ten on week nights.
She glanced at her watch with a groan. It was just past ten. They didn’t consider Friday a ‘weekend’ for some stupid reason. So much for a shuttle. She looked down at her two-inch heels. Oh well, it wasn’t that far back to the dorm.
She sat the cup down and headed down the sidewalk. Coming had been a mistake, but it wasn’t a big deal. She’d lasted almost an hour before cutting out.
At the end of the walk, she saw someone coming toward her and frowned. Most people that were coming to the party were already there.
She froze in her tracks, her eyes wide, and a scream bubbling up on her lips.
A hard hand closed over her mouth before she could release it.
“Hello, Mandy. Miss me?” Brandon Walsh drawled.
Chapter Four
Brandon lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Don’t scream, Amanda. That would really upset me.” He waited for her jerky nod before slowly moving his hand from her mouth.
“How’d you find me?” she asked in a whisper, terrified.
“I was a cop, Amanda. Did you really think I couldn’t find you?” he asked, his smile as icy as his tone. “Let’s go.” He took her hand in a tight grip and pulled her toward his car.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Brandon. Just go. I won’t tell anyone you were here. You have to go!” she said urgently.
Brandon didn’t bother answering. He opened the door on his Mustang and released her hand. “Get in and don’t make a scene,” he replied coldly. He wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t need to know that. If she screamed, and cops came, it’d be all over.
Maybe approaching her at night like this had been a bad idea, but damned if he’d been able to talk himself into waiting till a better time.
He’d seen her leave her dorm with her friend and had just seethed. She’d been going to school and making friends while he’d been locked in a damn prison cell.
“Get in,” he repeated. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Mandy slid into the car, her arms folded across her chest. She didn’t speak until Brandon had climbed into his own seat. “You still have it?”
He gave her a questioning look. “It?”
“The Mustang,” she said softly.
“What? You thought I’d lose my car with everything else I lost?” he snarled. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He saw her cringe and refused to feel even a moment’s guilt. She deserved to be afraid.
“I’m not disappointed,” she retorted. “I’m just surprised. What are you doing here? Where are we going?” she asked when he’d pulled back to the street.
Brandon didn’t bother answering. He needed time to think. The reaction he’d had to seeing her had surprised him. The fact that the fear on her face could cause any reaction other than satisfaction was irritating. Don’t fall for it, Brandon. She’s a good actress. Yeah, she was a very good actress. His mind went back to the trial.
“Ms. Wilson, can you tell us in your own words what happened on the night of your attack?” the prosecutor had asked.
There had been tears in Amanda’s eyes as she’d looked at Brandon; tears and fear. “He attacked me. I’m not sure why,” she’d whispered.
The jury had bought that, and the rest of the lies, hook, line and sinker.
“Brandon, just take me back to my dorm, and we can forget that you ever came here,” Amanda said quietly, her voice breaking. “Please, just take me back.”
Brandon looked over at her, his anger mounting. “Why would I do that, Amanda? I just spent two years in prison for attacking you, remember? Shouldn’t I at least get a little satisfaction?”
He saw her pale and refused to feel guilty. She deserved to be afraid. Of course, he wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t the type to abuse women—even ones that deserved it as she did. But, maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get enough answers from her to clear his name.
“Is that what you need? Revenge?”
Brandon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles hurt. “What do you think? Why, Amanda? Don’t I at least deserve to know why?”
“It’s not safe for you to be here! You need to go,” she said urgently. “Please, Brandon, just go.”
Brandon pulled away from the university campus and onto the highway. He’d rented a cabin a few miles from town where he figured he could at the very least make her talk to him.
It was a weekend at a university. He didn’t figure her being gone over a weekend would send out any flags if her friends were watching her. Party girl having a weekend away. “The girl you came with. Call and tell her you’ve hooked up for the night.”
Amanda’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Your friend. Text her and tell her you won’t be back tonight,” he said through gritted teeth.
He reached for the small bag she still clutched in her hand and pulled out her cell phone and tossed it onto her lap. “Do it,” he snapped.
“I don’t know her number.”
Brandon’s jaw tightened. “Am I supposed to believe that?”
“I don’t care if
you believe me or not! It’s the truth. She’s a new roommate. I just met her.”
Brandon sighed and turned the car around and headed back to the campus. “Fine. You can leave her a note. Pack a bag, too.”
“I’m not leaving school with you,” she said dully.
“Oh, you are, Amanda. You are going to do exactly what I say if you don’t want your roommate hurt.”
She slumped into the seat. “Fine.”
Amanda didn’t speak as they rode back to the campus. She was so tired. Tired of being afraid. Tired of it all. Maybe it was better this way.
If he’d found her, others could have as well. She wasn’t safe here anymore, anyway. If nothing else, she had to believe Brandon would keep her safe long enough to get the answers he wanted.
But, as she studied the man sitting next to her in the small confines of the old Mustang—she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.
He looked so different from the man she’d remembered. The man she’d fallen in love with so long ago now.
Harder. He was harder, she realized. For some reason, she hadn’t expected that.
Somehow, she’d get away from him and she’d run again. She’d run as fast and as far as she could. It had been stupid to think he wouldn’t have tracked her down. She hadn’t done a good enough job of hiding if he’d found her in only a week.
When he stopped the car in front of her dorm, she reached for the handle.
“Wait, I’m coming in with you. Don’t do anything stupid, Amanda. Don’t try to alert anyone. Don’t try to send any messages of any kind, got it?” he warned.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He nodded and climbed from the car, and walked around to open the door. He helped her from the car and wrapped an arm around her waist. Only she knew that this show of manners was just that: a show.
There would be no running in the shoes she had on anyway, she knew. For now, she’d have to play along with him. There was little else she could do.