“Thank you,” said Flynn. She removed her lush winter coat, draping it over the back of the chair, and sat down, crossing one long leg over the other. “Weston, I understand you haven’t been a model of cooperation these past few hours.”
Wes remained silent. By these people’s standards, that was true. Donovan had bombarded Wes with questions about Nicole’s family, the majority of which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the situation at hand. Wes had refused to answer, and Donovan had grown more and more agitated. Donovan had finally stormed out of the warehouse in a fit of rage, but Wes wasn’t naive enough to think he’d dodged a bullet.
Flynn leaned forward, scootching closer to Wes. “See that trunk over there?” she asked, pointing to the ever-present object. It was a ghost in the room, haunting Wes quietly from its spot on the warehouse floor. “Weston, that trunk contains something very valuable to me,” Flynn went on. “However, I do not happen to possess the key. You can imagine how this predicament might be… frustrating.”
“I already told this dipshit,” said Wes, jerking his head toward Donovan who sat a few paces away from Flynn. “I have no idea where your damn key is.”
“Oh, but I think you do,” countered Flynn. “I’ll make you a deal, Weston. The more information you can give me, the longer I’ll keep Miss Costello alive. Maybe I’ll even allow the two of you an emotional reunion before I kill you both. How does that sound?”
“Nicole’s gone,” hissed Wes, but the thought of Flynn harming her caused him to yank at the duct tape again. “Davenport’s already let slip that she escaped.”
A vein in Flynn’s neck twitched as she caught Donovan in her gaze. “Donovan, why is it that I continue to hold you in such high regard when you cannot seem to keep your damn mouth shut?”
Donovan didn’t dare respond. Instead, he fixed Wes with a menacing glare to which Wes responded with a humorless grin.
“Rest assured, Weston,” continued Flynn, putting an immediate end to the silent bickering match between the two younger men, “we have plenty of eyes on your precious girlfriend. She’ll be picked up again soon enough.”
“Why are you doing this?” asked Wes. “Because Nicole almost busted the Black Raptor Society? Have you even thought about what you’re doing? The crimes you’ve committed? You murdered a man! Took away his life. How does that thought not haunt you at night?”
Flynn let out a high, cold laugh. “Oh, my boy. My qualm does not lie solely with Nicole Costello. She is a mere pawn, and a regrettably inconvenient one at that. Sometimes, I even lament orchestrating her acceptance to Waverly. This might’ve been easier had we disposed of her earlier.”
“What are you even talking about?” demanded Wes, confused.
“Nicole Costello would have never been accepted to Waverly University on her own,” declared Flynn, flicking an invisible speck of dust from beneath one flawless nail. “God, she went to a state school for her undergraduate degree. It was only by chance that she even applied to Waverly for her master’s. At first, I wondered if she’d discovered her connections to our beautiful institution, but I understand now that she is just as ignorant of her history as you are.”
“I have no idea what you’re—what history?” Wes squinted at Flynn. Was she toying with him, or were the effects of his concussion still messing with his perception of things?
Flynn chuckled. “This is such a treat. I so enjoy delivering heart-stopping revelations.”
“What revelations?”
She lounged in her chair, gazing languidly at Wes. “Both of Nicole’s parents, Anthony and Natasha, were once students at Waverly University. Her father was a member of the Black Raptor Society.”
16
“Anthony!”
Anthony picked up his pace, racing down an aisle of the Waverly library. For God’s sake, all he needed was to check out a damn book on Greek and Roman humanities, but his ex-girlfriend lurked like an ever-present shadow. These days, it seemed like he ran into her at every corner of the campus, and he was starting to think that it wasn’t an accident. He rounded the row of shelves at top speed and plowed right into a librarian. The load of books that she carried toppled over and fell noisily to the floor in a jumbled pile.
“Young man!” the librarian scolded.
Anthony knelt to help gather the books. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Nice going, dipstick,” said a voice behind him. Anthony’s fists clenched at the familiar biting tone. “If you hadn’t so desperately been trying to escape from me like an immature five-year-old, you wouldn’t have run over Miss Smithson.”
Anthony handed the last rumpled book back to Miss Smithson before turning to face his ex-girlfriend. As usual, she looked flawless, but her dark beauty had long lost its disarming effect on Anthony. “Cat, I swear, if you don’t stop accosting me, I’m going to get a restraining order.”
“Oh, sure, paint me as some kind of stalker just because I’m a woman—”
“Take it outside, kids,” Miss Smithson cut in. She pointed sternly toward the grand doors that led out to the quad.
“Gladly,” said Anthony coldly. He would come back for the humanities textbook. It wasn’t worth the fight. He pushed open the double doors, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright spring sunlight outside, and hurried down the library steps. To his dismay, Catherine kept pace with him.
“Anthony.”
He spun around to face her, walking backwards to continue increasing the distance between them. “Christ, Catherine! Leave me alone. I already told you that I’m not discussing this with you anymore.”
Catherine stormed toward him, her raven-colored hair escaping from its high ponytail. Unlike the other girls on the university’s campus, Catherine had never adhered to the trend of neon fashion. She wore dark, slim jeans and a fitted, black crop top that bared an impressive stretch of her abdomen. “You call that a discussion? You broke up with me! Over the phone, I might add. And all
