Page 17 of Watch Your Back (Devil’s Backbone #2)

Keeping journals is fucking stupid. The only good to ever come from a journal was whatever clues Abigail left for Ashley.

Even then, it sounds like her “record” was more like the ramblings of paranoia rather than a reliable information source.

Maybe instead, I’ll just keep a running record of all the times I’ve jerked off while picturing Spark.

How many times I’ve had to wash those panties I stole from her in Paris because I can’t stop using them to catch my cum.

It’s a filthy addiction…clearly I need to steal a few more pairs so I can rotate.

W e all met up outside Cromwell Hall, where Dr. Fox’s office was located, and sat under a huge oak tree as we discussed how to execute the breaking-and-entering plan.

Or Royce and Heath discussed it. Nate just glared at me the whole time, and I very deliberately avoided catching his eye.

Sure, in the heat of the moment, I was totally unashamed.

Now? Different story. Carter must have sensed something going on, because he kept watching the both of us, like he was waiting for someone to start explaining the odd tension in the air.

Eventually, it was decided that Carter and Nate would head over to Dr. Fox’s class to keep an eye on him and his TA, to ensure they didn’t leave the lecture early for whatever reason.

Royce had somehow gotten his hands on a copy of the janitor’s master keys and Heath insisted he knew what to look for within the files more than anyone else.

Me? Well, they tried to tell me to go to the library to study.

The laugh I spluttered when they said that almost saw me snort. “I’ll be doing no such fucking thing,” I informed them with a bemused smile. “But it’s cute that you tried.”

Royce threw his hands up with frustration. “Fine, you can go with Nate and Carter to?—”

“No, she can’t,” Nate snapped. “She can go with you, or Carter can take her back to her room or something.”

Heath smirked, shooting me a sly grin. “You can come with us, Ashes. This will be easy, anyway.”

“Smart choice, Heathcliff,” I replied with a grin of my own, tapping my index finger innocently on my thigh.

His gaze followed the motion and he ran his tongue over his lower lip, understanding me perfectly.

Sometime around the third time he’d eaten my pussy during our morning in bed, he’d left a bite mark and dark hickey on the inside of my thigh.

Marking me, like a fucking caveman. I loved it too.

That was the spot I’d just tapped, and I could tell by the way he attempted to subtly adjust himself that he was hard again. The man had stamina, I’d give him that.

“Okay, clearly you two are fucking again,” Royce muttered, pushing to his feet and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go and get this over with. I’ve got a date with Willa tonight and need to do some manscaping.”

He stalked away before I could ask who the hell Willa was or make any jokes about his manscaping. But still, I didn’t love the twist of anxiety in my gut as I accepted Heath’s hand to stand up and follow.

“Who’s Willa?” I asked, unable to keep the question to myself.

Nate snickered, a cold sort of laugh. “Jealous, Layne? Don’t be so hypocritical.” He swaggered away from us before I could ask what the fuck that was supposed to mean.

Carter sighed, then leaned down to brush a kiss over my cheek. “Willa is no one important,” he told me, then took off after Nate at a slight jog.

If anything, his reassurance only worried me further. I turned to Heath with the question on the tip of my tongue, but his raised brow caught me in my tracks. Why was I fixating? Royce could date. Of course he could. We were just friends after all.

Biting my tongue, I swallowed back my weird mix of emotions.

Heath threaded his fingers through mine, squeezing my hand as we trailed after Royce into the building.

The two of us waited with our eyes on the hall to ensure no one saw us entering, but with the help of Royce’s stolen key, we made it inside in no time at all.

“Where do we start?” Royce asked, tucking the key back in his pocket and looking around the neat office. His eyes lingered on the chaise longue, and a frown creased his brow, his thoughts etched across his face.

“Hey,” I said softly, touching his arm to pull his focus. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. Maybe Dr. Fox is totally innocent?”

His answering smile was weak. “Yeah, maybe.” He sighed and glanced at the banks of filing cabinets lining the wall. “Heath, you still know how to pick locks?”

To my surprise, Heath nodded. “Probably a bit rusty, but cabinet locks are a lot easier than doors.” From his pocket, he pulled out a little case with honest-to-fuck lock picks inside.

Royce glanced over and grinned, then physically closed my gaping mouth with a finger under my chin.

“We all grew up very rich and often got very bored,” he explained while Heath went to work.

“Sometimes our practical jokes required us to learn new skills. This one came in handy when we wanted to swap out all of the junior class report cards for ones with failing grades.”

“The whole class?” I asked, bemused and honestly turned on as hell. Who knew Heath was a closet bad boy under that cinnamon-roll exterior? “Wouldn’t that have been obvious?”

Royce shrugged, moving over to Dr. Fox’s desk to poke around. “Yeah, but we didn’t want anyone to actually think they’d failed. Just annoy our teachers a bit.”

I chuckled at how them that was. “You guys were doing Devil’s Backbone bullshit before you were even Devil’s Backbone.”

“Well, yeah,” Royce agreed, flicking through some papers in Dr. Fox’s desk drawer. “Our parents were all DBs when they went to Nevaeh. How’s that lock going, Briggs?”

“Shut up,” Heath grumbled, squinting at the little metal picks he was manipulating the lock with. “I told you I was rusty. You just need to be—aha! Got it.” He withdrew the picks and slid open the file drawer with a triumphant grin.

For the next few minutes, the two of them sorted through the records, reading out names of people I suspected I’d never even met, pulling them out and stacking them into a pile on top of the cabinet. Among them were their own personal files and Daniel Mahoney’s.

“So he was seeing Dr. Fox too…” I mused aloud when they added the now-dead student’s folder to the stack. “What about all these other ones?”

“Society members,” Heath informed me while Royce pulled his file from the stack and flipped it open. Then scowled.

“What the fuck? It’s empty.”

I crossed over to peer over his shoulder and verify what he’s saying.

The folder wasn’t empty exactly, or that would have been evident by the lack of paper within.

The pages themselves, though, were blank of all relevant information about their therapy sessions.

The header and footer contained Royce’s personal information, date of birth, student ID, all the usual stuff, as well as Dr. Fox’s logo and details…

but the bulk of the page where session notes should go? Blank.

Royce put his aside and grabbed another off the stack, flipping it open to find the exact same thing. “This seems… suspicious.”

“Compare it to another file,” I suggested, gesturing to the open filing cabinet. “Someone not in the society.”

Heath pulled out another file and handed it over. When Royce opened it, the difference was unmistakable. Pages on pages filled with Dr. Fox’s cramped handwriting in a blue ballpoint pen.

We looked through several more, then took photos of all the blank ones we could find. Every single one, the boys confirmed, was in the society.

“We should go,” Heath murmured once we put everything back and he locked the cabinet again. “I feel like that’s all the smoking gun we need at this stage, right?”

“Sure seems that way,” Royce agreed, nodding.

On a whim, I grabbed the top page of Dr. Fox’s notepad beside his computer and tore it off to take with us. When the boys looked at me in confusion, I offered a sheepish smile. “I saw it on a crime show. You can use a lead pencil to see what he was writing. I dunno, maybe something useful?”

The two of them grinned at me like I was being cute, so I rolled my eyes and tucked the blank sheet of paper into my pocket with a mumbled “whatever” before carefully easing the door open to check if the hallway was clear before we exited.

Heath called Carter as Royce locked the door behind us, and we made a plan to reconvene back at their apartment so we could talk in privacy.

My car was parked behind Cromwell Hall, and the three of us headed that way without any discussions.

It felt like there were eyes and ears everywhere, and I doubted it was safe to talk about anything of substance unless we were totally sure no one could overhear.

As we started across the parking lot, heading toward my Firebird, a group of girls crossed paths with us and two unpleasantly familiar women paused, eyes locked on my boys.

“Heath!” Jade exclaimed, her mouth rounding in fake shock. “You’re back! We all thought?—”

“Sorry, can’t chat, we’re busy,” Royce interrupted, placing a hand on the small of my back to nudge me forward. Paige stepped in front of him, forcing him to either stop or bump into her. Regretfully, he didn’t knock her on her ass…more’s the pity.

She fluttered her lashes, a sultry smile on her lips. “I hope this isn’t going to be awkward between us, Royce… I figure if Nate can move on, then surely you and I can too?”

What…the fuck was she talking about?

“You’re delusional, Paige,” Royce scoffed. “Nate doesn’t forgive or forget so easily.”

Paige just shrugged, coy as fuck. “Are you sure? He seemed like he was in a real forgiving mood on Monday. Or this morning, for that matter, when he pulled me out of class because he was so desperate for me.” She licked her lips, innuendo clear as day.

“I think you boys will be seeing me around the apartment more often, so it’s probably best we all get along. ”

She reached out, patting Royce’s chest in a condescending sort of way, and I acted without thinking. I grabbed her wrist and shoved her away so hard, she stumbled back a step, her vicious glare acknowledging my presence for the first time.

“You bitch,” she hissed.

I glowered back, moving slightly to block her from touching Royce again.

“Takes one to know one. I wouldn’t get your hopes up about your future with Nate if I were you.

Him letting you suck his dick doesn’t change anything, except his mood for like three point five minutes.

” I took a step forward, and satisfaction rippled through me when she backed up a step.

“And don’t even try faking another pregnancy to guilt him, or I’ll personally expose your medical records for the whole damn school to see what a fake and a liar you are. ”

Paige’s pretty face drained of color and her jaw hit the floor.

I took advantage of her shock, grabbing Royce’s hand and pulling him past the bitchy girl and her desperate sidekick.

It was either leave or end up in a girl fight, and I really wasn’t in the mood to get pulled into the university dean’s office today.

“What was that all about?” Heath laughed as the three of us slid into my Firebird a minute later. “Also, remind me to scold Carly for spilling secrets.”

I met Royce’s eyes in the rearview mirror, checking that he was okay. He nodded back to me, a small smile on his lips. “Thanks, Squirrel,” he murmured. “I honestly can’t believe I ever fucked around with her. I’ve never liked her, even before we slept together.”

I frowned, his words tugging at a new and unsettling thought as I pulled out of my parking space and started toward the guys’ apartment. “Like…you never found her attractive or had a crush on her?”

Royce gave a sigh, running his hand through his hair and drawing my focus back to the mirror for a moment. “Yeah, I always thought she was pretty fucking insufferable. Fuck knows why I decided it was a good idea to sleep with her. I must have been drunk as hell.”

Heath shot me a sharp look, and I nodded back. Clearly, he was drawing the same conclusions.

“I don’t think you ever thought it was a good idea, Roycey,” I said softly as I drove. “It sounds to me like someone planted the idea in your head and gave you no choice.”

It was a horrifying thought, but considering what we’d seen so far, it was hardly the worst that hypnosis had done. Still, the idea that free will could be so thoroughly overridden filled my gut with anxiety. It was psychological abuse at best…and in Royce’s case, it sort of felt like rape.

A deep shudder ran through me, and Heath squeezed my knee. None of us spoke for the rest of the drive, though, all lost in our own dark thoughts.