When Cassandra met his gaze, her lips pursed. “I don’t think so.”
“No?”
No? Did she really just say no?
He stepped forward and lowered his voice to a soft whisper. “You sure? There’s this really nice place off Fleet—”
She took another step back. “I’m sure. Thanks though.”
Ouch.
“I’ll, uh, just be on my way now.” Her lips moved like she was going to say something else, but all that came out was, “So…good-bye.”
“Ooooooh,” Tyke said through the COMs. “Burn. How’s that feel, Calder?”
Shitty. Real freaking shitty. Especially in front of an audience.
That was twice she’d ran away from him in less than twenty-four hours. She obviously didn’t want or need his help. So be it. Good luck to her. He didn’t need her, either.
Chapter Six
Cassandra sat behind her computer in her office at John C. Carver High School, finishing up on a few final projects before heading out for the day. Excited chatter and laughter echoed through the door, filling her small space from the teacher’s lounge next door. Every few words she heard things like “cranberries” and “ham” and it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without the “turkey.” A week still to go and the energy came across like it was tomorrow.
She was as excited as the rest. After four long months, she could barely contain her emotions at the prospect of reaching out and hugging her parents and sister for real. First thing Monday morning she would be on a flight, beating that holiday rush, putting all this behind her for seven blissful days. She just had to get through her workday and the weekend.
A knock on her door pulled her attention back in focus.
She shook herself and came back to the present. “Come in.”
Miguel poked his head in. “You wanted to see me, Ms. Stone?”
“I did.” Cass gestured to the chairs with worn cushions in front of her gray metal desk. “Please have a seat.”
He dropped into the chair and placed his clear backpack on the ground next to his pristine white high-top sneakers. Cass maneuvered around the side of her desk and sat on the front corner.
She looked into his dark brown eyes to address him directly. “How are you, Miguel?”
Like he always did when she asked that question, he lifted one shoulder. “Fine.”
“And Ronan?”
No shrug this time. Instead he adjusted the collar of his oversize hoodie and slouched in the seat more, his baggy jeans-clad legs spread wide. “He’s fine.”
“Good,” she said in a cordial tone. “I’m glad to hear it.” Not that she expected him to say otherwise.
“Did you need something, Ms. Stone?” He pitched a thumb over his shoulder toward the door. “I gotta get back to class.”
That made her smile. He was one of the few who attended class to actually learn, not to socialize.
“I wanted to let you know that the results came back about the scholarship.” She waited for his reaction. As she’d hoped, he sat up straighter in his seat. Good. He’d been just as anxious about his submission as she’d been.
Cass had helped Miguel submit his application to the University of Maryland for an underprivileged minorities scholarship. The award recipient would receive full room and board and tuition for all four years. This would obviously give that student the propulsion needed to make a positive change in his or her life. She couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than Miguel. Cass had called the scholarship office and had spoken with the coordinators to make sure his packet had been received and reviewed. She talked up Miguel’s abilities and potential like he was her own child. She hadn’t fought for anything this hard before.
This was his way out. The ticket that would not only help him make something of his life, but also to save it. If he got this scholarship, he’d be off the streets, out of the gang, and away from the drugs and his brother’s influence.
Pure joy erupted in her chest as she gave him the news. “You got the scholarship, Miguel. They loved your essay and they want you to attend their university.”
He looked past her, his breathing seemed to pick up just within in those last few seconds, his nostrils and chest expanded, and a look of astonishment crossed his face.
It was hard to contain her own excitement, so she didn’t. She let her smile shine even brighter. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”
He looked back at her as if he didn’t hear her or it didn’t compute. “I did it,” he said almost as a question.
She nodded. “Yes, you did. You’re going to college.”
He crumpled forward and braced his forehead in his palm. “I did it.” Sitting back, he shook his head with a smile. “I did it.”
“You did.” Moments like this reminded her how great her job was. How much of a difference she could make in the lives of her students. How much it made the time away from her family worth it. One student at a time.
Then the excitement drained from his expression and his body wilted into the chair. His face filled with disappointment and regret. He swallowed hard. “Thanks for telling me. If you could just write them back and say ‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I’d appreciate it.”
She pulled back, her own smile and excitement fading. “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to tell them that?”
“I won’t be going, so…” Miguel shrugged, trailing off.
“You got in. Of course you’re going.”
He glanced up at her with eyes so sad that it nearly broke her heart. “Sometimes what we’re meant for is a lot different than what we want.”
“What?” She lowered off the desk and knelt to his eye level. “I don’t understand. This is what you’re meant for. It’s what you want. You’re going to college.”
He glanced away as his fists clenched. “It’s my family, Ms. Stone. I can’t do nothin’ against my family. They need me. My brother—”
“Would want you to make something of yourself. Be something.”
“I’m strong enough,” he said, looking up at her. “You ain’t gotta worry about me. I can do it.”
Strong enough? “What do you mean, Miguel? Do what?”
He chewed on her question a moment, glancing away as he fiddled with the seam in his thigh.
There was another knock on her door, then it opened and Mrs. Nolan, the principal’s secretary, popped her short, graying head in. “So sorry to bother you, Ms. Stone, but you have a visitor.”
Based on Mrs. Nolan’s apprehensive posture, it must be important. “One second please, Miguel.” She approached the door and lowered her voice, speaking to the secretary. “Who is it?”
Mrs. Nolan leaned in, softening her words as well. “Your grandmother. She brought your lunch?” The last word was said in question, though Cass had no idea why. “I asked if she wanted to drop it off and leave, but she insisted to give it to you herself.”
Since her only living grandmother was in a nursing home in Minnesota, Cass highly doubted Nanny would make the trek out to Baltimore on a whim just to bring her lunch.
Cass glanced back at Miguel, who already had his hand on his backpack. “I gotta get back to class anyway. Thanks for the info.” He got up so fast it was as if Mrs. Nolan had just said Principal Lee was going to start three months of summer break today if he got back to class right that second.
“Miguel, wait. What are you strong enough for?” She tried to reach for him, but he was already through the doorway.
Damn it.
Mrs. Nolan clasped her hands in front of her and lifted her eyebrows.
“My grandmother. Right.” With a sigh, Cass signaled for Mrs. Nolan to let her unexpected company in.
Or visitors, as it were, since it appeared her so-called grandmother brought two friends with her.
Friends Cass didn’t think she’d ever see again.
Maybel entered first, carrying a thick wool coat over her arm. She wore a blue sweater that covered her round belly, dark slacks,
and snow boots. Estelle came in next, looking like a tightly bound mummy in a stretchy, slim-cut white sweater over her well-endowed chest that seemed to have sprouted from her throat. Celia brought up the rear, idly playing with her pearl necklace over a pastel pink cardigan and white pants. Each of the women hung their coats on the rack next to the door and then sat. Estelle and Celia chose vacant seats across from Cassandra. Dragging the chair from behind her desk, Cass offered it to Maybel.
Sitting, Maybel folded her hands in her lap, her expression suggesting she was readying herself for a hostage negotiation.
“Ladies,” Cass said, her stomach bunching into knots. She lowered onto the corner of the desk as she’d done during her meeting with Miguel. “This is quite a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Since the last time they’d seen each other, it was for all of three bites of eggs and a few sips of OJ.
Maybel spoke first. “How are you, dear?”
“Fine,” Cass said, drawing out the syllables. Miguel might have been onto something with his single word responses.
“That’s good. We’re glad to hear it. Aren’t we, ladies?” Maybel sent a prompting glance at Estelle and Celia.
“Yes. Good. Very good.”
“Excellent.”
Maybel’s gaze drifted around the small room with dingy white walls, frost on the single pane windows, and a historic bell-style fire alarm on the ceiling. “Luke mentioned you’re a counselor.”
Cass shifted, scooting her butt farther back on the desk, suddenly uncomfortable by the mention of Luke. “That’s right.”
“He also mentioned that he asked you to dinner.” She said it like there was an unspoken question in there.
“Yes,” Cass said, cautious not to offer any information until she knew their reason for stopping by.
It was Estelle’s turn now. The woman adjusted her weight onto her full hip and crossed the opposite leg. “And you turned him down flat.” The protectiveness in her posture and tone was hard to miss.
Cass straightened her spine. “I did.”
“Mind if we ask why?” Maybel asked.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” This suddenly felt like an interrogation.
Maybel’s expression said she agreed with Cass’s statement, but that she wasn’t going to let Cass off that easy. “Luke’s a good guy.”
“I’m sure he is,” Cass said. “It’s just not a great time—”
“He’s a complicated man,” Maybel said.
The other two women nodded as if agreeing with the assessment.
“How long has he been living with you?” Cass asked.
Three pairs of eyes darted sidelong at one another.
“Only a few months,” Maybel said a little too carefully.
So strange. “Is there a specific reason he lives with you?” Did he lose his job? Has he fallen on hard times? Did he simply like his grandmother doing his laundry?
Maybel kept a cordial expression in place. “That’s his story to tell.”
Pressure built in her forehead, making it feel like her brain smashed against her skull. Cass rubbed the pain away. “Ladies, can you please just tell me why you’re here? I have a lot of work to finish up and you’re keeping me from it.”
Approval sparkled in Maybel’s eyes. “You’re forward. I can see why he likes you.”
Likes me? Was the woman living on Mars? Yes, okay, Luke had asked her out, but that didn’t mean he liked her. He seemed like the kind of guy who asked out tons of women, probably multiple times a day.
“Poor guy has been moping around since you rejected him.” Estelle glanced at the other two women, who mumbled their agreement.
Maybel’s wrinkled bottom lip jutted out. “Very sad, really.”
Moping? Sad?
Please. Cass and Luke didn’t know each other, but he hardly seemed like the moping type. More like the she said no, so let’s move onto the next one type. And with his good looks, he was most likely very successful in the moving on part. Probably right now, in fact. Why that thought sent a flood of jealousy through her was a mystery. She didn’t want Luke. He was Daniel 2.0. No thanks.
Maybel moved to the front of her chair, back straight, hands still folded in her lap. “Would you consider rethinking your answer?”
She almost laughed. The only reason she’d even think about going out with Luke now was to find out the truth about who he really was and why he cared so much about her spying on Miguel and his friends. That’s it. Otherwise, he could take his cute dimples and perfect smile, and keep right on moving.
But Miguel…
Luke had accused her of pushing her own stash. Moving in on Serrano’s territory. It had to have something to do with the drugs running rampant through her school. But why did he accuse her of it? Like she was the criminal.
If Luke knew something about her student or the other boys Miguel had been with, even a tiny morsel of information, it was better than no information at all, right? If it could help her convince Miguel to take that scholarship and not join the gang, then it would be worth it. Especially since he was having second thoughts.
Cass pasted on her most convincing frown. “Sad, you say? That sounds pretty serious, the poor guy. Do you really think I affected him that much?”
All three elderly ladies readjusted in their seats at the same time and looked at one another as if they hadn’t expected her to say that.
“Yeah,” Estelle said, nodding with enthusiasm. “We’ve never seen him act like this before. You should put the guy out of his misery.”
She’d put him out of his misery all right. And get the information she needed in the process.
“Do you have his number?” she asked, her faux frown quickly turning upside down. “I think I might have been a bit hasty yesterday.”
Luke liked her forward personality? Let’s see how much he liked it aimed directly at him.
…
“So what’s the plan now that Calder’s failed date fucked up our original one?” Tyke reclined in his chair, black military-grade boots propped on the table in front of him. The snide smirk he shot Luke disappeared behind the tilt of his coffee mug that read, Shut Your Mouth When You’re Talking to Me.
Sitting at a folding table, Reece peered at a row of computer screens with footage from yesterday’s recon in the park. “To be fair,” he said, lifting his black-frame glasses onto his forehead to look closer at the screen, “we didn’t have much to go on prior to her arrival, so…” Reese’s comment trailed off as he lifted one shoulder and dropped the spectacles back into place.
“It really gets you hard that she turned me down, doesn’t it?” Luke swiped Tyke’s black boots from the table, making them drop like forty-ton weights. It jostled Tyke’s coffee, some of the contents spilling onto his cargo pants.
Bryan bolted from his chair and brushed at his thighs. “Fuck, Calder. That’s hot!”
Luke served up an extra shit-eating grin and threw it in Tyke’s direction, to which he received a double bird in return.
“It’s about time anyway, you slick son of a bitch.” Tyke dropped his mug on the table with the thud. “You can’t go home with every woman you meet.”
Luke did have pretty stellar luck, if they were keeping track. And he was. Only because he loved rubbing it in Tyke’s face. “Hey, it’s not my fault that when women see me they automatically think hot sex. And when they see you they think of a giant ox dry humping them until they pass out.”
“Blow me, Calder,” Tyke said, reaching for a stack of napkins.
“I would, but I’d hate to ruin your pristine record. What’s it been now? Ten? Eleven years?”
Tyke looked up with scrunched eyebrows. “Since what?”
“Since you had anything besides your own two paws to get you off.” Luke made a jerking motion with both fists.
Tyke threw the brown-soaked napkins on the gritty, concrete floor and charged at Luke.
“All right, you two. Christ,” Ash growled, br
acing a strong forearm across Tyke’s chest. “Arguing whose dick is bigger isn’t going to solve this case.”
“Mine is bigger,” Luke mumbled, “just so you know.”
“Like hell it is.” Tyke wrenched at his belt, ripping it from the metal lock. He popped the button of his cargo pants and reached for his zipper when Ash sent them an I’m gonna kill you both glare.
Grumbling, Tyke locked everything up, then made his way to the coffee pot for a refill.
They hadn’t captured on tape what Ronan pulled out of his pocket, but they did translate audio of Ronan saying, “if you survive” and “strength of the Eternal Brotherhood will protect you.” Still not enough to bring them in for questioning. Ronan was scheduled to meet with another high school student tomorrow, so the team was planning to head back out and try to get something to connect the dots to the supplier.
“They’re using the drugs for initiation,” Ash said. “Intel suggests that the kids take the drug, and if they live then they’re welcomed into the family and have the full support and backing of the gang. If they die…” He made a sound deep in his throat. “Well, that’s it, isn’t it? They’re dead.”
Tyke joined the rest of the team at the table, once again throwing his black boots on top. “What kind of crazy shit is that? Some fucked-up game of Russian roulette?”
“That is essentially what it is, yes,” Reese said, easing back in his chair. “It dates back thousands of years to an ancient methodology. It is a way to weed out the weaker male species in the group. If the higher power deems you worthy, you will pass the test.”
Tyke snorted. “Why the hell would you chance it?”
“A sense of belonging,” Luke said, causing all attention to swing his way. “Kids with nothing, who come from nothing, will do just about anything to belong somewhere. To have someone to rely on.” He could empathize on so many levels. The difference for Luke was that he chose not to let that need consume him.
Ash was already nodding. “They have this misguided notion that if they join the brotherhood and they pass the initiation, they’re meant for greatness. That they’re more than what they are. More than where they came from. More than the shit circumstances they’ve been dealt.”
In Walked Trouble (Under Covers) Page 6