The light had long since faded as I sat on the bottom step and contemplated how I’d get back up to my room. I needed to process everything I’d found in the shoebox. Putting my father’s hat back inside and replacing the box in the top of the closet was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. But I couldn’t keep it, not without the risk of Garrett knowing. The very fact that it was here in his house meant I couldn’t trust Garrett.

Don’t trust any of them. My mom’s vague warning, delivered on one of her last breaths, didn’t give me much to go on, but I wasn’t going to disregard it. She and Dad had a bright, burning relationship when I’d been conceived. The fire had died down to angry hissing embers by the time I was born.

Mom raised me on her own, with only occasional visits from my father. He provided—the child support paid every month like clockwork—but he was a rolling stone. His visits were infrequent yet all-consuming. I was a daddy’s girl, always desperate to hear his stories of travel and adventure as Mom sighed and shook her head.

“I fell for the same song and dance, so I can’t say I’m surprised.” Her chiding voice in my head was more comforting than anything else. I missed her. Every day, I thought about her. She had been the only reason I hadn’t investigated Dad’s disappearance.

Between her doctor’s appointments, treatments, and my studies, I couldn’t spend time on a father that hadn’t deigned to show up for years. Even so, my gut told me something happened to him. Something bad. Her dying warnings reinforced the feeling. She’d kept me away from Millbrook County, away from anything connected to my father’s disappearance, for a reason. I didn’t know what it was until after she died. That’s when I found my father’s final message in her cell phone.

“Something is wrong here. I can’t trust anyone. Don’t come looking for me. I love you and Elise.”

The message had been delivered two years prior, and Mom had never shown it to me. She knew I’d dig.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and ran my index finger along the small memory card I’d found under my father’s worn cap. Maybe it was nothing, but its placement on the top of the stack hinted at importance. Getting a look at it became imperative, but I’d have to wait until Garrett was out of the way.

“You get your fill of snooping?” His stark voice made me jump.

“I didn’t see you there.” I peered through the gloom to find him leaning in the doorway to the library. I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t heard him. How long had he been there?

“That’s because you’re sitting in the dark.”

“Good point.” I tried to get to my feet, but my exploring and the shock of seeing my father’s hat seemed to have drained me. I faltered and gripped the banister.

“Let me guess.” He sighed. “You need help getting up the stairs.”

“No.” I refused to accept anything from him, especially not when he was sighing about it. “I just need a few more minutes.”

“Sure you do.” His face was in shadow, but I could feel the smirk turning up the left side of his mouth.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

He stood straight and walked across the foyer, a few rays of moonlight striping across him as he approached.

I glared up at him. “I said I got it.”

“I think we’ve already cleared up that I don’t have a hearing problem.” He leaned down and easily scooped me into his arms.

“You can’t just manhandle me.” My mind said to tell him to fuck off, but my body relaxed against his, welcoming the warm feel of his chest.

“You think this is manhandling?” He shook his head, his unruly hair escaping from behind his ears.

“Yes, and if you take the stairs two at a time, I’ll lose my shit like Scarlett in Gone With the Wind.”

He laughed, the sound throaty. “One at a time, then.”

We ascended slowly, his steps even and constant. He turned left at the top of the stairs.

“Is your room the other way?”

“Yes. Why, do you want to go to my room?” He arched a brow and stared down at me.

My heart did a weird stutter step. “I was just curious.”

“My door’s locked. So it should go without saying that my room is off limits.”

“Why? You got some hookers tied up in there?”

He grinned. “Not at the moment.”

I canted my head and studied his face. Joking. He was joking. Surely.

The overhead light in my room brightened his features as he carried me to my bed. The longer I stayed here, the more handsome he became. Was this how Stockholm syndrome started?

He set me on the bed and backed away.

I caught his eye. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Here we go.” He crossed his arms over his wide chest. More ink peeked from his sleeves, and I wondered what he had tattooed on his upper arms. “I knew I should have left you sitting at the bottom of the stairs, staring off all dreamy.”

I wrinkled my nose. “How long were you watching me?”

He shrugged. “Was that your question?”

“No.” I scooted back in the bed and rested against the headboard. He catalogued every movement, his gaze darting down my body. “Why do you stay here by yourself?”

“Because I like it.” He turned to the door. “Glad we had this chat.”

“Wait!”

He stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“Listen, I know a few things about you.” I needed to sprinkle the truth with some lies. “I looked you up on your laptop earlier. You were fired from your teaching position.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his back flexing. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t figure all that out, detective?” The bitterness in his voice cut, and his use of the word “detective” had me worried he knew more about me than he let on.

“No. That’s why I’m asking. So, why?”

He stayed silent for a while, then turned back to me. “Because I’m a bad man who does bad things.” His gaze flickered down my body again, lingering on my breasts and then lower. When he licked his lips, heat burst in my cheeks and a tingle rippled across my thighs.

“You don’t seem so bad to me.”

His eyes darkened, as if he didn’t appreciate what I’d said. “You don’t know me.”

“I think I know enough.”

He smiled, but it was cold. “Do you?”

I crossed my arms over my chest as goose bumps raced across my skin. “You’ve been taking care of me. You’ve been kind.”

He walked back to the bed and sat next to me, our hips touching. “I’ve been kind because I’ve had to be. Pete gave very clear instructions on how you were to be treated.”

I swallowed hard as his steely blue eyes bored into me. “Would you have treated me differently if it weren’t for Pete?”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“How?” My blood raged through my veins.

He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “I would have hurt you.”

Why did his words shoot through me like a hit of a euphoric drug? “Why?”

“I’ve seen you looking at me.” He brought a hand to my cheek, his touch soft. “I know what you think about. I’ve heard you in here at night when you think I’m asleep.”

My cheeks burned red. He heard that? I feigned nonchalance. “So?”

“So.” He slid his hand down to my neck. “You said you saw where I left my teaching job.”

“You were fired.” I tried to lean back—his eyes were too intense—but his grip tightened at my throat.

“But you don’t know why?” He stroked my neck with his thumb and rested his other hand on my knee.

I wrapped my hands around his wrists. “No.”

He massaged his long fingers along my thigh while keeping my neck in his large palm. Control. He had every bit of it.

“I had an affair with the dean’s wife. But that wasn’t what led to my dismissal.” He smoothed his hand up my thigh and under the hem of my shorts. He leaned closer, his warm breath tickling my ear.

My grip on his wrists faltered; I couldn’t decide if I was afraid or turned on. Maybe a bit of both, and wasn’t that all kinds of fucked up? When his fingertips brushed my panties, I jolted.

“Are you wet, Red?” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, and I shivered.

“Don’t.” The quaver in my voice gave me away. I wanted him to touch me, wanted it more than I should have.

He laughed, low and sinister. He pushed my panties to the side and ran his fingers along my wet flesh. “You are.”

I whimpered and closed my eyes.

“Fuck.” He bit my ear, and I grabbed his shoulders.

Desire overwhelmed me and drowned out any logic. I wanted him, his wildness, and his veiled passion. If only for this single moment, maybe I could feel something other than loneliness and the burning need to know the truth.

When he pressed a finger inside me, I moaned. I tried to press my thighs together, but his palm kept enough room between them so he could ease farther inside me. God, it felt good.

“So wet and tight.” His voice was a growl as he fastened his lips right below my ear.

Heat seethed inside me, and when he squeezed my throat, I moaned.

“You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?” His voice shook, anger coating the words as he added another finger and slowly stroked me. “Couldn’t leave me alone.”

I forced my breathy voice past his palm. “I just wanted to know—”

“Some things are better left in the dark, Red.”

“No.” I didn’t believe that. “It’s better to know.”

“You want to know why I was fired and ordered to stay off all campus property?” He nipped at my jaw.

Every nerve ending in my body focused on his touch, but I had to hear the truth. “Yes, tell me what happened.”

“Fucking the dean’s wife wouldn’t have been such a problem. But things didn’t go so well when he walked in on me raping her.”