Tori—
At lunch, I grab a salad and an apple in the cafeteria and find a table. A couple of other girls sit at the other end, one giving me a smile.
Scrolling through my social media to keep me entertained while I eat, I’m in my own world until a shadow falls over me, and I glance up.
Connor and his two cohorts. Great .
“What, no cheese?” Connor asks. He’s smiling at me, then reaches across to snatch the fruit off my tray. He takes a big bite of the apple, then looks at it. “Just like the Garden of Eden, huh? Eve tempted Adam.”
His friends giggle.
“Go away,” I snap. “I’m not interested. I told you that.”
“I’ll see ya ‘round, little mouse.” He winks and walks away, his buddies trailing after him.
“What the hell is his problem?” I mutter under my breath.
“They’re not nice guys. You’re right to want to stay clear of him,” the girl at the end of the table says. Then she tilts her head. “You know who he is, right?”
“Who is he?”
“His father is Mason Waters.”
She says the name like I’m supposed to recognize it. I stare at her blankly. “Who’s he?”
“You don’t know who Mason Waters is?” the brunette with her asks.
“No. Why?”
“ Governor Mason Waters?”
My brow lifts. “His father is the Governor ?”
“Yep. Because of it, he thinks he’s bulletproof. No one can touch him.”
“I suggest you stay out of their way,” the brunette adds.
“I’ve tried. So far, it’s not working.”
The blonde slides over and extends her hand. “I’m Cynthia Abernathy. This is Felicity Carter. We’re sophomores.”
“I’m Tori. Tori Sawyer.”
Felicity scoots her tray closer and leans toward me, her voice hushed. “He’s a senior. Last year, a girl tried to bring charges against him.”
“What happened?” I ask, hoping he’s got a court date coming up.
Cynthia answers for her. “The DA wouldn’t bring the case to trial. We all figured his father put pressure on the man. Then she tried to sue him in court.”
“How’d that go?”
“She dropped the suit. We heard there was an out of court settlement.”
Felicity sips on a juice, then leans to my ear. “Rumor has it she got three million.”
My mouth drops open. “Oh my God.”
“I know, right?” Cynthia replies, stabbing at her salad, then glancing around. “It’s also a rumor that her father got some company from Silicon Valley to donate a huge amount of money to Huntington.”
“So, he’s got them in his pocket as well as the DA?” I murmur.
“Exactly,” she whispers. “So, like we said, avoid him at all costs.”
“The way he looks at me, I feel completely vulnerable.”
Cynthia squeezes my hand. “Get some pepper spray.”
I nod, thinking I may need more than pepper spray.
“You look terrified. Here, take mine.” Felicity reaches in her purse and puts it in my hand.
“Thank you.” My fingers close around the small can, and I shove it in my bag. “You’re kind to give it to me.”
“Just watch your back,” Cynthia adds.
An hour later, I’m late leaving the biology lab on the second floor of the science building. I have no interest in science, but it’s a prerequisite. I spent ten minutes talking with the professor about some questions I had, and now I’m late.
The halls are already empty when I step out of the lab. At the end of the hall is an elevator and a stairwell. There’s no way I’m getting caught in a stairwell alone, so I hit the elevator button, and it dings. The doors open, like it was waiting on this floor.
I step inside and hit the button for the first floor. The doors begin to close, and an arm jams between them, preventing them from closing.
Then he steps in, grinning.
Connor.
I try to push past him to dart from the enclosed space, but he pushes me back.
Then his two buddies are there, still holding the doors open. They reek of marijuana.
“Such a frightened little mouse,” Connor says. He’s intimidating, and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, which drop to my chest. “You going braless today, little mouse? How brave.”
“No way. She’s wearing a bra,” one disagrees with him.
“Nah. That’s all her. High and tight. Perky little titties,” Connor whispers.
“Jesus, bro,” one of the others says, cupping the bulge in his pants.
Suddenly, Connor glares over his shoulder at his two friends. “Get lost. Now.”
They step back, grumbling, and Conor hits the button to close the door.
I shrink in the corner.
Where did they come from? Were they waiting around some corner or lurking in the stairwell?
I slip my backpack off my shoulder and unzip it, determined to get to the pepper spray.
We’re between floors when Connor hits the stop button, and my stomach drops.
Oh shit. My hand searches the bag frantically, but I can’t find the spray.
He crowds me into the corner, one hand bracing above my shoulder. “Why you gotta fight it, sweetheart?”
“I’m not your sweetheart.”
He jerks the bag from my hand and tosses it in the opposite corner, then presses his body against mine and kisses me.
I fight him, trying to push him away, but he’s too strong, and I can’t get him to budge.
He grabs both my hands and pins them above my head, securing them there easily with one hand while his other drops to my breast, squeezing.
“Stop. Please stop,” I beg, hating the shakiness in my voice.
“God, you’ve got great tits. You know if you go along, your time here could go really well.
I can make it easy for you. This is the best school in the country.
This place can get you any of the connections you would ever need to make a good life for yourself.
If you know the right people. If you’re nice to the right people.
Remember that.” He steps back and hits the button, and the elevator moves again.
It dings for the next floor, and I push past him, grab my bag, and run the minute the doors open.
His laughter follows me down the hall. “Run, little mouse. Run.”
I skip my next class and head straight to my car, pulling out with a squeal of tires. My mind whirls. I can’t press charges. I probably can’t even report him to the dean and get any results. So, where does that leave me?
I’m crying when I step out of my car at the house, and suddenly, Rafe is there, coming to his feet next to the rear tire of my dad’s car and wiping his hands on a rag. I see the spare on the ground, and he’s obviously been sent up here to change the tire.
He steps toward me, and the scent of pine and leather envelope me. It smells masculine, but in a good way, not in a trapped-in-an-elevator-with-a-jerk way. It smells like safety.
“You okay?” his voice is soft and smooth and protective, only he’s no hero. Not with the way his dark eyes glitter.
I shake my head. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing you can help with.”
“Try me.”
I lift a brow. “You know any good bodyguards, biker man?”
His chin pulls to the side, and he frowns. “What?”
“Just what I thought.”
I dash up the porch steps and through the door before he can say another word.
Ruth and my father are in the kitchen talking and don’t notice me sneak up the stairs to my room.
I can’t face them right now. I step to the window and see Rafe by my father’s car.
He’s staring at the house, like he doesn’t have a clue what the hell just happened.
Finally, he balls up the rag in his fist and throws it, then returns to his task.
I drop the curtain and sit on the bed. I’m going to have to tell my father I can’t attend Huntington. There’s no way I’m putting myself through this every day.
Hopefully, there’s still time to reply to another acceptance letter I received from another college. I stare at my phone and think about calling my mother, when there’s a tap on my bedroom door.
My father pokes his head in. “You’re home early. I saw your car out there.”
“Yes, my, um, last class was canceled.”
“I’m headed out myself. I’ll be gone all weekend. Business.”
“All right.”
“Ruth will be here, of course.”
“Okay. Have a safe trip.”
“I should be home by dinner on Sunday. I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too, honey.”
He closes the door, and I hear his footsteps going down the steps.
Maybe I should have told him, but I’m still reacting, and I can’t deal with speaking the words to describe what happened to me. I feel so violated.
My suitcase sits in my open closet, and I think about packing up and catching a flight. But I can’t do that to my father. Not without at least saying goodbye and explaining.
I’ll tell him Sunday when he returns.
After Dad leaves, I lay down and fall asleep. When I wake up, the sun is setting.
I join Ruth in the kitchen. She’s making a lasagna, and I help her build the layers. When we put it in the oven, she steps back and looks at the clock on the wall.
“It should be ready by quarter after, honey.”
I pop a piece of leftover cheese in my mouth. “Sounds good.”
Her phone rings, and she looks at the screen, frowning. “It’s my pastor’s wife. Let me take this.”
Ruth has been friends with her pastor and his wife since I was a little girl. John and Missy Birdwell.
I drift into the living room and flick on the news, more to distract myself. The weather comes on, and they say the Santa Ana winds are forecasted to pick up tonight with expected wind gusts of up to sixty miles an hour and potential for downed trees.
Great.
“Dear, I have to go out.”
I turn to my aunt’s voice and find her standing in the archway. “Really? What is it?”
“John had a heart attack. The paramedics are taking him to the hospital. Missy is beside herself, and I told her I’d stay with her.”
I rise to my feet. “Oh no, I hope he’s okay. Of course. Go. She needs you.”
Ruth turns and hurries to the coat closet. “You’ll be okay here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. I plan to curl up and watch a movie, then I’m going to bed.”
“Okay. Good. The timer is set for the lasagna. Don’t forget to take it out.”
“I won’t.” I follow her to the door. “Please be careful. The winds are supposed to be strong tonight.”
“I will. Don’t worry. I’m meeting Missy at her house, and her son is driving us to the hospital.”
“Good. Let me know how he’s doing, and if you feel like you need to stay with her overnight, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine here.”
She turns and pats my cheek. “All right. I love you, honey.”
I wave her off, and close the door, watching her drive off down the driveway, then return to the news.
When the timer goes off, I take the lasagna from the oven and fix myself a plate, carrying it to the living room, then I flick on a horror movie and settle in.
I’m not an hour into the movie when I hear banging. The wind has picked up, and it sounds like a branch hitting a window. I go around and check all the windows, but don’t see anything. Then the power goes out, and the house goes black.
Turning on the flashlight app on my phone, I go looking for candles and find some in the dining room buffet. Now I just need matches. I feel around on top of the fireplace mantle but have no luck. Ah, yes, the kitchen junk drawer.
When I walk in the kitchen, the back door rattles, and I see a dark figure through the glass panes. He’s turning the knob and shaking the door. I back away and grab a knife from the wooden block on the counter, hiding it behind me.
The glass breaks, and an arm reaches through, stretching for the doorknob. I turn and run, making a dash for the front door. When I throw it open, I see Connor’s two friends standing out by a vehicle in the drive.
The other one must be Connor. God, I can’t fight off the three of them. I know my father keeps a gun in the desk of the study, but I don’t think I’ll make it, and Connor’s probably in the house by now.
I scream as loud as I can and ring the old bell on the porch—the one that’s been there since my grandfather built the place. It clangs loudly, and I keep screaming.
The other two are coming up the steps.
I brandish the butcher knife. “Stay back, do you hear me? I called the police.”
“Police aren’t coming, sweetheart. Night like this, I bet they’ve got a hundred calls.”
“What do you want?” I ask shakily.
Connor’s voice sounds behind me. “Why you, of course, little mouse.”