Page 20 of Beware of Dog (Lean Dogs Legacy #6)

Her classroom was an amphitheater style space, with carpeted, tiered rows of long tables set in a slight bow so that everyone had a good view of the board.

With her head spinning, she slid into the back row and took a chair on the edge in the hopes Professor Nunez wouldn’t call on her today.

She had the sense she wouldn’t absorb a word of the lecture.

She pulled out her notebook and pen anyway. Was quite seriously contemplating writing Cassandra Jane Shepherd on a blank page just for the fun of it. Just to see what it looked like…when someone slipped behind her chair and dropped into the one next to her.

A life spent among outlaws and assassins meant she didn’t startle, but she made a point of straightening her notebook in the hopes that whoever it was would ignore her.

No such luck.

A male voice said, “Hey, Cassandra?”

In all her fantasies of becoming a celebrity, the cause was her artwork, and not sticking up for her assaulted friend. Campus notoriety was not fun in this instance.

“Cassandra?”

Shit. She adjusted her pen a millimeter to the right, and then turned her head, slowly, chin tipped down and gaze slanted.

She recognized the boy next to her—and he really was a boy, when she compared him to Shep, with his stubble, and his streetfighter nose, and the smoky roughness of his voice—but she didn’t remember his name.

He had a mop of curly dark hair, vivid green eyes, and a model-pretty face dusted with freckles.

More importantly: he was one of Sig’s friends.

She gave him her coldest stare, said, “I have nothing to say to you,” and faced the board again. She wanted to get up and move to a different chair, but she wasn’t going to show fear.

“No, wait, hey,” he said, softly pleading. “Please. I wanted to talk to you. Just for a minute, and then I’ll get out of your face. I swear.”

“What part of ‘I have nothing to say to you’ do you not understand? Are you hard of hearing? Or stupid?”

“Cassandra, please.” He sounded miserable. Tortured, even.

She sighed gustily and snapped, “What?” in her best Raven impression.

“I wanted to say I was sorry,” he said, shifting closer, angling his body toward her.

When she shot him a glare, he leaned back and lifted both hands in surrender.

That was when she remembered his name: Bryce.

She remembered his face, too, smiling and bright with laughter on the other side of the kitchen island at the Blackmons’ townhouse.

“I’m sorry about what happened to Jamie.

And I’m sorry about what happened to you at Sig’s house.

I knew he liked you, but I had no idea he would ever put something in your drink. ”

Cass’s automatic retort shriveled up in the face of his astounding sincerity. He looked like he might cry .

Dad had always taught her to be suspicious of sincerity.

“Sig’s terrible,” she told him.

“Yeah.” He offered a lopsided, sad smile. “I’m figuring that out.”

Cass sent him another cold look, started to turn away—and then was struck by a thought. She said, “Hold on. You’re the witness, aren’t you? Someone tipped the police off about where to find Sig the other day.”

His eyes widened. Guiltily. “Oh. Um…I don’t…”

“It is you.” Suddenly, Cass didn’t want him to leave her alone anymore. She twisted in her seat so she faced him fully, and he leaned back in response, brows lifting, apprehensive now. “Okay, I know things are going to get insane as the case progresses, but you’ve got to stick to your story.”

“Whoa.”

“Oh no. No.” She pointed to him. “None of that. Were you there the day Jamie was raped?”

Bryce darted a glance around the room and scrunched down into his chair. “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about this,” he whispered.

“Not with Sig, obviously, or any of your other friends. By the way: you need some better friends.”

His throat jumped as he swallowed. “I don’t disagree. But.” He wet his lips, nervous as a cat, gaze taking another wild swing around the room. “I didn’t want to—I didn’t mean to—I wanted to apologize, is all. You’re a nice person, and you deserve an apology.”

“You don’t know that I’m a nice person.”

He blinked.

Cass enjoyed his perplexed expression…but she did need him on her side, and couldn’t afford to toy with him too much. “Listen, Bryce. Does Sig know you helped the police?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“That’s good. This trial is going to be difficult. It’s Jamie’s word against his. Were you there that day?”

He bit his lip, his gaze skating away, and looked guilty. “Yeah. A few of us were. We couldn’t find Sig, so we went over to the house and let ourselves in with the spare key. We could—we could hear Jamie screaming.”

“Are you the only one who came forward?”

“As far as I know.” He glanced at her sideways, head still half-turned. “You sound really…like, official. Like a cop.”

She shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “I know some cops.”

“Oh, I thought…”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She could tell from the skittering of his attention that someone—read: Sig—had said she was associated with the Dogs.

“Will you testify if they ask you to?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convincing. She knew she’d knocked his whole little sad-puppy-apology scheme completely sideways, but didn’t feel bad about it.

“Sig might find out you’re helping the police and convince you not to.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m done with Sig.”

“He might threaten you.”

Clearly, he hadn’t thought of that. His brows flew up. “Really? You think so?”

“He raped someone. You don’t think he’d threaten a friend to keep from going to jail?”

He swiped a hand through his tousled hair. She wondered how long he’d spent in front of the mirror twisting each wave so they appeared rumpled and artless. “Shit. You’re probably right.”

“You’ll need to be tough. It won’t be easy.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head, and regarded her a long moment.

He wasn’t making puppy eyes anymore; instead, he assessed her, frank and with a clearly newfound respect.

She’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel good to be considered in that way.

“Jamie’s lucky to have you in her corner. You’re a good friend.”

Unlike his “nice person” comment from before, this compliment sounded genuine.

“Thank you,” she said, and meant it.

“Good morning, class,” Professor Nunez called from the front of the room.

When Cass faced the board and picked up her pen, she didn’t mind that Bryce remained seated beside her.