Tempting the Player (Campus Wallflowers Book 4)

The fact that she couldn’t remember exactly what building she’s in tells me everything I need to know about how scared she is right now. That’s to say nothing of her strained voice as she told me she was hiding in a closet because she thought someone was following her.

She dropped a pin, but that only gets me as far as the Emerson building.

Brogan and Archer follow behind me as I throw open the front doors. “You two check the floors above and below. Text me the second you find her.” I bark out the orders and then take off down the first-floor hall.

They were getting home when I got the call from Jane. I don’t know what I must have looked like for them to jump into the truck and come with me, but I’m glad they’re here. We can cover more ground, faster.

It’s late afternoon and the halls are quiet. I glance side to side as I walk, looking for closed doors. Most of them have windows I can glance in to see classes in session, but my pulse jumps when I spot a wooden door just past the bathrooms.

I rest my hand on the door handle. “Jane?”

Silence greets me, but I pull open the door anyway to double-check. The sight that greets me nearly takes me to my knees.

Jane sits on the floor in a ball, arms wrapped around her legs and head buried in her thighs.

She glances up at me, eyes wide with terror, and it freezes me. I’ve protected a lot of people, but I have never felt this insane pull with a client. Keep them safe, avoid danger. See it before it happens and redirect. If you have to act, you’ve already failed. And I feel like such a fucking failure.

She scrambles to her feet and launches herself at me before I have time to prepare. My body knows exactly what to do where she’s concerned. My arms circle her waist and one hand cups the back of her head as she buries her face in my chest. Her entire body shakes as she sobs. She’s dead weight in my arms, and I suddenly feel a little jelly-legged too.

I guide us down to the floor with her sitting on my lap and shut the door so that it’s only open a crack to give us some privacy. My chest burns as I feel her completely fall apart.

We sit there in mostly silence, only her ragged breathing and sobs and the sound of my heart cracking wide open, until Archer and Brogan jog by. I flag them down without moving Jane off me.

“Is she okay?” Archer asks, taking in the situation.

Fuck. I hadn’t even thought to ask if she was okay physically.

At his voice, she lifts her head slightly.

“Hey,” I say, voice hoarse. “You’re all right. I’m here. Are you hurt?”

When I don’t get an answer, I guide her chin up with my thumb to get a better look at her.

Streaks of black are smudged around her bright green eyes, still pooling with tears, and her face is red and splotchy.

“Did he hurt you?”

Her head shakes slightly side to side.

A little tension eases from my body. I watch a tear trek from her left eye and down to the corner of her lip. My thumb wipes it away and then lingers there at her mouth.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I was walking around campus after class,” she starts, voice soft and cracking on every other word. “I kept seeing this guy. Black hat, red zip-up hoodie. I panicked and ran in here. I don’t know what happened to him after that.”

“You did good.” I continue to drag my thumb along her soft cheek. Black hat, red hoodie. Black hat, red hoodie. I repeat it over and over as I imagine what I’ll do to the asshole when I find him. “Will you stay with Arch and Brogan while I go⁠—”

She tenses and lodges herself back against my chest, arms wrapped around my waist.

“We’ll look for him,” Brogan says when it’s clear she isn’t going to let me go.

I nod. “Can you catch a ride back to the house? I want to get her out of here.”

“Here you go.” I hand Jane a glass of water.

“Thanks.” She sits on the edge of my bed, eyes downcast.

Leaning against the dresser in front of her, I fight the overwhelming need to hold her again. She still hasn’t said much, but she won’t let me call her parents until Archer and Brogan get back.

“I’m sorry for calling. After everything that happened, I didn’t know if you’d answer. Thank you for that and for coming. I don’t know what I would have done if . . .” She trails off as her voice breaks.

“I’m glad you called, but where’s the old guy?”

A hint of a smile dances on her lips for the briefest of moments. “I sent Grady back yesterday. Since nothing else had happened, it felt silly having security follow me around from class to class.”

My fingers dig into the wood dresser. I can’t believe he listened to her or that her parents went along with it. She blows out a shaky breath.

“Drink some water. It’ll help.” I motion toward the glass in her hands.

“I doubt that.” She takes a sip anyway, then glances around the room. “Getting ready to leave?”

“Yeah.” My gaze drops to my duffel bag on the floor by the door. “Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah.” I run a hand over my hair as a knock comes from the other side of my door. Brogan cracks open the door slowly, smiles at Jane, and then tips his head to me.

“I’ll be right back.”

Archer and Flynn are sitting in the living room, Knox is making dinner in the kitchen.

“That’s her, right? That’s Ivy Greene?” Flynn asks with more excitement than I’ve seen out of him since I’ve been back.

“Yeah.” I look to Archer and Brogan as the latter sits down on the couch. “Did you find him?”

God, I hope they did. I want to destroy the creep who did this in a way that should probably scare me.

“Yeah.” They share a look I can’t decipher.

“And? Where is he? At the fucking police station with a couple black eyes, I hope.”

Brogan shakes his head. “We let him go.”

“You did what?” My voice climbs and bounces off the walls.

Archer stands and pulls a card from his pocket, then holds it out to me. “He’s paparazzi. He was trying to get some photos of her.”

I snatch the card and read it three times before my brain catches up. “Did he get any?”

They share another look that has my blood pressure shooting through the roof. “Did he get pictures of her today while she was running from him?”

The last fucking thing she needs after she finds out who was following her is to see pictures of it splashed across tomorrow’s news.

“I don’t know,” Brogan says finally. “We didn’t think to ask.”

“We can go back.” Archer stands, but I hold up a hand.

“I’ll deal with it later.” I close my fist around the card, then shove it into my pocket. A million thoughts race through my brain. I walk into the kitchen and then brace myself on the counter.

Archer and Brogan start up video games, and Flynn goes to his room.

“Still leaving tomorrow?” Knox asks quietly as he sets a plate with pasta and chicken in front of me. The fucker smiles all cocky and deliberate. “It’s cool. I could watch her while you’re gone.”

He’s purposely goading me, and I don’t have the energy to fight, so I flip him off and take the plate of food to my room.

I hesitate, wondering if I should knock, but ultimately open the door slowly and peer in before stepping inside. Jane’s laying on my bed, head resting on my pillow, curled up on her side asleep. I pad in quietly and set the plate on the nightstand, then stare down at her. She’s going to be upset when she finds out the guy following her was paparazzi. Maybe it’s better that she sleeps first.

Archer and Brogan leave after dinner and Flynn does his usual disappearing act back to his room. I don’t know where Knox went, but I find myself needing some sort of release and end up back out in the garage to hit the bag.

That’s where I find Knox. He’s hitting the bag, hands unwrapped, in quick, short jabs. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and he stares like a lethal machine straight ahead at the target.

When the garage door shuts behind me, he pauses and glances back in my direction.

“Guess we had the same idea,” I say, and toss my wraps onto the workbench that runs along the far wall of the garage. “I’m gonna go for a run. If she wakes up, text me. I won’t go far.”

“Or you could stay.” He stands tall and a wicked grin curls his lips. “When’s the last time you hit something besides a fucking bag?”

It’s been ages since I sparred, and nobody’s ever been as good a competitor as Knox. Not that I’d ever tell him that.

“You’re fucking on.”

I pick up the wraps and quickly get my hands ready to go. Knox doesn’t bother. I eye his hands with a smirk. “I have a pretty fucking hard head. Might want to reconsider.”

“I welcome the pain.” He shuffles in front of me, eyeing me up like he’s really taking in the differences in my body since I left for the first time.

I’m taller, broader, and stronger than I was the last time we did this, but then again, so is he.

Knox’s body is leaner and more sculpted than mine. I’ve got him by a few inches in the way of height, but not enough for a real advantage. Besides, he’s always been deceptively strong and he’s not afraid to get hit, which makes him either stupid or scary, depending on your perspective.

“Not too late to back out,” I goad him as I puff out my chest. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

I barely get the last word out before he strikes. A pleased chuckle rumbles in my chest. And we’re off.

My smile is gone quick as I concentrate on dodging his punches and trying to land a few of my own. Knox lands a liver hook, then steps and adds a right low kick.

“You’re rusty, Henny.”

Don’t I know it. Sweat drips into my eyes and burns, but I don’t have a second to wipe it before he aims a left hook to the head. He’s fucking with me. Landing his punches and kicks but not putting anything behind them. He wants me to know he can increase the intensity any time he wants. We never go full out, but seventy-five percent of Knox’s wrath is fucking plenty.

I attempt a foot sweep, not really trying to take him down but distract him, which I pull off, then surprise him with a darting cross.

“Fuck. I can’t believe I fell for that,” he mumbles as he steps back, putting some distance between us.

When he comes at me the next time, he’s no longer holding back. I don’t either. Damn, it feels good. Slick with sweat and pulse racing, some of the weight of everything fucked up in my life lifts. Not all of it, but enough that it pushes me to keep going until minutes turn into fuck knows how long.

We’re in a zone, exchanging punches and kicks in quick succession, when the door leading into the house opens. I look up to see Jane in the doorway.

“Hey,” I say in a half-pant because I’m out of breath.

Knox takes the opportunity to sweep my foot out from under me and I land with a thud on the rubber flooring.

Motherfucker.