Page 14 of Watch Your Back (Devil’s Backbone #2)

Everything feels different on campus. I’m looking twice at every shadow and feeling eyes on me everywhere I go.

This sleepwalking thing…it’s bigger than just Heath.

I feel it’s bigger than just the four of us too.

Is it centered around the DBs? Or is it the school?

Both? I haven’t wanted to tell any of the guys, but I’ve started having weird nightmares too.

I have a horrible feeling that I was involved with Ashley’s kidnapping, and it makes me sick to my stomach.

She needs to stay the fuck away from us until we can work out what’s going on.

C arter wasn’t joking when he said he’d make me something to eat. Before I fully finished recounting the events of last night and this morning, he’d made cinnamon buttermilk pancakes from scratch and served them up with maple syrup, whipped cream, and strawberries.

“I didn’t know you were such a chef, Sir Carter,” I teased as I slid down to sit on the floor so I could use the coffee table to eat on.

Nate snorted. “Is that a kink thing? Gross.”

I squinted at him for a moment, confused about what he was talking about.

Oh, he thought me calling Carter sir sounded like a Dom-sub thing, rather than poking fun of his British accent and affluent family.

“I find it fascinating that you’re constantly thinking about sex around me, Essex. Don’t you?”

His eyes widened in shock, and I smirked.

“Both of you, cut it out,” Heath scolded before Nate could retort to my snark. “Let’s stay on topic. Do we know anything more about the driver of the car? Carter, did you see anything useful, like whether they were actively trying to hit Ashley?”

I startled at that and almost choked on the mouthful of pancake I’d stuffed in. Almost, but managed to swallow safely before continuing to react. “Was that a concern? That never even crossed my mind. I just figured it was the wrong place, wrong time.”

Heath arched a brow at me. “Really? After you’ve been repeatedly targeted by someone posing as society hazing? I don’t believe in coincidences, Ash. Not here.”

Well, shit. That left me stunned and a little speechless as I thought it over. Surely that wasn’t the case with the car crash, though. It was just a random…coincidence. Wasn’t it?

“The driver was Daniel Mahoney. His girlfriend was taken to surgery,” Carter informed the guys. “But no, I didn’t see any of it. I arrived just in time to hear Spark screaming at the bodyguard douche to let her go and see him totally ignoring her demands.”

“That explains the shiner,” Royce mused aloud, then fist-bumped Carter as if to say nice.

Nate and Heath exchanged a long look, then Nate nodded. “He was a DB. So’s his girlfriend, Zara. Can we get an update on how she’s doing? Maybe she knows whether he was acting strange before the crash.”

Royce nodded, pulling out his phone. “I’m on it.”

“If this is hypnosis,” Heath said thoughtfully, “then there has to be a common denominator. Someone pulling all the strings and planting the orders, right?”

My mouth was too full to contribute—Carter was a great cook—but I hummed a sound of agreement with that statement. I knew who my prime suspect would be, but it’d be interesting to see if he suspected anyone else.

“My money is on Dr. Fox,” Nate said with a grimace.

Heath sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping. “Mine too. He is the logical culprit, right? He’s a clinical psychologist. I had regular sessions with him after which I would often have shockingly bad headaches… What if he was using my therapy sessions to mess around with hypnosis?”

“Isn’t that…too obvious?” Royce asked, scratching the back of his neck. “Like, surely he’d know that this would blow back on him if anyone ever worked out what was happening?”

I put my hand up so I wouldn’t lose my train of thought while finishing my mouthful. “Um, do you all have therapy sessions with Dr. Fox? Because you were all sleepwalking the night of the fire.”

“I do,” Royce confirmed with a grim look. “But Nate and Carter don’t.”

Heath tapped his fingers against his lips for a moment, his gaze distant while he thought it over. “Okay…so it’s not an iron-clad opportunity but I think he’s worth investigating? Maybe just…a casual snoop around to see if there’s anything incriminating in his office?”

“Heathcliff Briggs,” Carter chuckled, “did you just propose breaking and entering? Royce is rubbing off on you.”

Heath’s answering grin was pure mischief.

“Sure. Let’s all pretend Royce is the only delinquent here.

But yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.

We gain access to Dr. Fox’s office somehow and just take a little browse around.

If we can even take a look at my own medical file, it can confirm whether my therapy sessions were bullshit or not, right? ”

He had a point. Dr. Fox—if he was somehow involved in a weird hypnosis experiment—wouldn’t bother fabricating therapy notes if he had no reason to think anyone would see them. Right? You wouldn’t need fake notes with doctor-client confidentiality and all that.

“I’m game,” Royce announced, clapping his hands together. “How, when, who, where?”

“He has office hours on Mondays and Tuesdays, but Wednesdays he teaches Neuropsychology over in Belford Hall with John Catton as his TA. That’d be the best opportunity, I think.

” Heath reached out and stole a strawberry off my plate, shooting me a wink when I scowled.

“In the meantime, we can all keep our eyes and ears open for anyone else experiencing sleepwalking or…whatever. Agreed?”

The guys all murmured their confirmation of the vague plan, and I checked my phone when I felt a message come through.

Carly sent an update about Jess—the girl who’d been hit—and I read it aloud for the boys to hear.

She apparently had a broken pelvis and cracked skull so had been put in an induced coma until the swelling on her brain went down.

“Jessica Bentley?” Royce repeated, stunned. “Shit. She’s basically the star player on the Nevaeh girls’ basketball team. That fucking sucks.”

That must have been how Carly knew her. She’d mentioned being a former basketball player when we’d met and clearly kept up with the team.

“Carter, can you drop me back on campus? I want to go pick Carly up from the hospital before my class this afternoon.” I climbed to my feet and carried my dirty plate over to the kitchen to rinse off, like a good guest. The pancakes had all but disappeared.

I’d been hungry, but it hadn’t escaped my notice how immaculate the guys always kept their apartment.

Carter had washed up all his cooking dishes straightaway too, so I didn’t want to be the slob leaving a mess.

“Wait, why does Carter need to drive you?” Royce asked, following me over to the kitchen. “What happened to the Firebird?”

I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile. “No one else keyed it, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s at my dorm. I just came over here with Carter because his car was closer to Dancing Goats.”

“And she didn’t bring any coffee for the rest of us,” Heath added, his tone teasing. “I know, dude. I was offended too.”

Royce frowned, shooting Carter a suspicious look. “Well, I’ll drive you. I’ve got the same philosophy class as you this afternoon. We can pick up Carly on the way.”

I shrugged, not really giving a shit who drove me so long as I didn’t need to waste money on a rideshare while there were four perfectly good vehicles parked downstairs. Royce grabbed his keys and backpack, and Heath grabbed me for a not-so-brief kiss before we headed out.

Carter shot me a dark look when I glanced over my shoulder, and I shook it off. He knew perfectly well that my reasons for pushing him away were valid. He wanted time to think? He’d better think fast because Heath wasn’t messing around anymore.

Royce was oddly quiet on the elevator down to their parking garage, and I couldn’t help feeling like he had something on his mind that he was reluctant to voice aloud.

Once we were seated in the close confines of his car, I sighed and shifted to look at him. “What’s going on, Royce? You seem…burdened.”

A small frown creased his brow and he glanced over at me before shifting into reverse. “I’m fine,” he lied.

I huffed a frustrated sound. “Okay, then. I guess we’re not back to the way things were, then?”

His jaw clenched as he guided the car through the underground lot toward the ramp.

“How were we, Squirrel? What are we supposed to be back to?” His voice held an odd level of seriousness that threw me off balance.

Like I was meant to be reading between the lines and totally overlooking something important.

“I don’t understand the question,” I admitted. “We were friends, weren’t we? At least, I thought we were…temporary roomies, but otherwise…friends?”

He said nothing back for the longest time, just keeping his focus entirely on the road and his driving, as though I weren’t even in the car with him. Then after what seemed like an eternity, he sighed.

“Yeah, sure,” he murmured. “We’re still friends, I guess.”

“You guess?” I laughed a little uncomfortably. “Okay, weirdo. How come your schedule changed this semester anyway?”

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It didn’t, really. I was taking this class with you last semester in our doubled-up schedule and decided I liked it enough to officially enroll.”

That made sense. I’d thought about doing the same in some of his courses as well but didn’t want to add to my workload when the credits didn’t apply to my degree. I was kind of pleased that he’d still be in some classes with me, even if he wasn’t playing protection detail.

Which reminded me… “You definitely didn’t hire my security guy, right?”

Royce shot me another sharp glance. “Definitely not.”

“I assumed it was Carter, initially,” I admitted, thinking out loud, “but the way he started a fight sort of verified that he had no clue who Mr. Hughes was…so did Heath do it? Why wouldn’t he have mentioned it to me or at least to Carly if he thought I didn’t wanna talk?”

Royce scoffed. “Maybe it was Nate.”

I chuckled. “Sure. Because he cares so much for my safety. Oh, can we duck through the drive-thru?” I pointed to the fast food place coming up on our left. “Carly asked for chicken tenders and Texas toast.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Royce agreed, merging across to turn into the driveway.

We picked up food for Carly—and Royce—then continued on to the hospital where Carly was waiting outside for us to pull up.

“Roycey!” she exclaimed with a grin as she clambered into the back seat. “You’re alive!”

He rolled his eyes, fighting a smile as she hugged his neck from behind his seat. “Of course I’m alive, drama queen. You texted me a middle finger emoji yesterday when I asked if you guys were back on campus.”

Carly snort-laughed, buckling herself into her seat. “Yeah, you were dead to us yesterday for ghosting Ash. Right, babe? I got your back. But apparently bygones are bygones and all that? How fucking much did I miss today? How’d you two kiss and make up?”

“Mmm, last I checked,” Royce replied with a mischievous smirk, “it wasn’t me that Squirrel was kissing and making out with on the sofa.”

Carly gasped a scandalized gasp. “What? Ash! You swore Carter was dead to us too!”

Royce snickered. “Heath, actually.”

I groaned, scrubbing my hands over my face. “It was technically both of them. Just…eat your damn chicken. I’ll fill you in later.”

Carly gave a sound of protest, her mouth already full. Royce’s hands flexed on the steering wheel, his knuckles white for the briefest moment before he glanced my way with a somewhat lopsided smile. “Don’t be like that, friend. We want the gossip. Right, Carls?”

“Damn right,” Carly mumbled around her food.

I sighed. The two of them wouldn’t let me off the hook quite so easily.

Besides, Carly needed to know about the blocked-number situation, so I wouldn’t seem like quite such a pathetic bitch for forgiving their supposed ghosting that easily.

Reluctantly, I filled her in about that, then gave both of them the dirt on Carter and Heath.

I kept Heath’s intensely vulnerable confession of falling for me quiet, though. It felt too intimate to share, even though all the guys had been right there to hear it.

Carly chattered, squealed, and asked a dozen prying questions…but Royce remained quiet. It was weird, but he was probably only playing along to encourage Carly. He really didn’t give a fuck for the smutty details himself.

Or maybe he disapproved of me being involved with two of his friends at the same time? The idea that Royce disapproved of, or was disappointed in, my decisions caused an uncomfortable anxiety to swirl through my guts, so I smoothly changed the subject for the rest of the drive.