Page 15 of Dirty Hit
You can’t quit.
You’re complicit.
The word makes my chest tighten.
Complicit.
“It’s fine,” I tell myself under my breath, voice low so it doesn’t echo too loudly in the cramped space. “You’re fine. He saw you, that’s all. He’s not going to do anything in the middle of the quad. You’re overreacting.”
He saw you. Why wouldn’t he? You sat in his dining room while there was a body in the next room. You’re going back to his house tomorrow night. You’re going to sit across from him again and pretend you didn’t see what you saw. You’re going to help him pass. You’re going to be complicit. You already are.
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, willing the panic down. I can’t fall apart here. Students are going to show up, and professors walk past this door. If anyone sees me losing it, they’ll ask why. I can’t answer that.
I’m mid-turn, about to pace back toward the window again, when the doorknob rattles. I freeze when the door swings open before I can say anything.
Didn’t I lock the door?
Dominic fills the doorway, making the room feel instantly smaller.
“Hey,” he says, closing the door behind him.
I hear the click of the lock engage, and my lungs stutter.
“This is a student space,” I say, because that’s safe. “You’re not supposed to lock it.”
He shrugs, leaning back against the door; casual as anything.
“I’m your student,” he says. His tone is light, almost amused. “And I don’t want anyone walking in while we talk. That’s rude, isn’t it?”
“Rude,” I repeat, because my brain is stuck on the word. “Right.”
He pushes off the door and steps further into the office, letting his gaze sweep over the cramped space. His presence changes the air, making it dense. He makes everything feel smaller just by being in it.
“This is cozy,” he says, looking around. “But I expected something bigger for the golden boy of the law department.”
I snort before I can stop myself. “I’m not the golden boy here.”
His smile doesn’t drop, but it grows cold. “There’s the brat I thought I saw last night.”
Heat floods my face. “I’m not—”
“The part of you that doesn’t talk like a brochure,” he says, stepping closer to the desk. “The one who called me lazy yesterday and stayed.”
“I stayed because you told me you’d kill me if I didn’t.”
He tilts his head, pretending to consider. “I said you’d regret breaking our little promise. Don’t put words in my mouth, Little Sin.”
The nickname lands like a hot and unwanted touch again. My fingers curl around the edge of the desk. “Don’t call me that.”
“I’m going to keep calling you that,” he says easily, moving around the side of the desk until he’s standing too close, the smell of his cologne wraps around me. “And you’ll get used to it, because it makes your cock twitch.”
I push down the shame and lift my chin to glare at him. “You can’t come in here and act like yesterday was normal.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want in here,” he says. “It’s just you and me. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
My heart slams against my ribs. “Why the hell would I want that?”
He laughs softly, the sound low and warm. “Because you didn’t go to the cops. Because you’re prepping my assignments instead of reporting me. That tells me a lot, Brendon.”
