I lay staring at the ceiling trying not to think of Megan with her sassy mouth and smoking body. I should be balls deep in pussy with anyone instead of thinking of her. But I told myself I was waiting for Tade to get back from his date. There was shit I had to do because of him, though he didn’t know it. But that didn’t explain the weeks of no pussy, did it?

Shifting gears, I thought about what needed to be done tonight. Days ago, Tade came home pissed as hell that someone had been taking pictures of him and Reagan when they’d gone sailing the other morning. I had to do some digging to make sure he was safe. No one could learn who his real dad was. Although Tade hadn’t said it, he wasn’t sure if they were after him because of his adopted father, the senator, or Tate, his incarcerated biological one.

I’d found out it was the latter. Good thing the private dick that had been hired by the family was a greedy motherfucker who could be bought. I just had to pray that I wasn’t caught playing both sides. The boss was worried Tate had cracked and was making a deal with the Feds. They needed leverage. Tate had no family left. The only person they could link him to was the boy who’d lived with him for a while. They had their suspicions that he could be his son, but no proof.

Tonight I had to trade hush money for cooperation. It wasn’t the kind of thing you did alone. That was how you got killed. So I’d been forced to ask Tade to come along because he could handle himself.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Tade. Finally.

I grabbed the duffle full of money I’d dug up from a grave the other night. That had been fun. Tate had money hidden away for such things. And it turned out fine. I’d shoveled working off anger over my shit life.

When I got in behind the wheel, Tade scooted over since he’d borrowed my truck. He had his own car, but wanted to use mine. I tossed the bag in the small space behind the seat and put the car in gear.

“So how was it? You didn’t fuck in my truck, did you?”

I laughed but he didn’t see the humor in it. Instead, he stared out the windshield like he had shit on his mind.

“Nothing happened.”

I chuckled, hoping to draw him out of his mood. “Either you're losing your touch or you’ve got it bad for Reagan.”

When you’ve lived with a guy practically for four years, you know him. He was really into her.

From my periphery, I caught him turning toward me. “I’ll admit that as soon as you admit you’re still panting after Megan.”

I ground my teeth together, starting to hate that name and for nothing more than the fact she was the one thing I couldn’t have.

Neither of us spoke for the rest of the ride. I drove to a spot on a hardly used, two-lane road a couple of miles from school. It was dark with nothing but the moon to light our way once I killed the engine and cut the headlights.

No one could call him a fool, which was why I’d brought him along. But I ignored the questioning raise of his brow.

Seconds later, a car arrived coming from the opposite direction.

“Wait here,” I said, pulling the duffle from behind the seat.

Tade scoffed. “Gav, what the hell?”

There was really no time to explain. Soon someone would get out and might overhear us.

“Just stay here.”

He didn’t let up. “What kind of illegal shit are you in? Is this a drop?”

Of course it was. But my friend was living on the right side of the law. Telling him yes would only lead to another set of questions I couldn’t answer.

“You’ve been watching too much TV, my friend.”

He wasn’t buying it. “Don’t play me. We’re supposed to be friends.”

Friends. I wondered what else I was when I was risking my life to save his. Tate would have no way of knowing about the family looking for Tade and that I could have stopped it. So yeah, friends to the bitter end. Yet I didn’t say any of that; I lifted a brow.

“Yeah, when was the last time you shared about anything?” I asked.

Wasn’t that the truth? He didn’t know I knew who his bio dad was. He clamped his mouth shut, though I added, “But you don’t have to worry. This isn’t anything that could get you arrested.”

It wasn’t. Not really. Bribing someone wasn’t exactly legal. But when you were giving money to a person to do something legal, the law seemed to keep a blind eye to it. Not taking a job wasn’t a criminal offense and that’s all I was paying the guy to do.

I tossed the duffle between us.

“So you’re a man of your word,” the round private dick said.

“Have you heard something different?”

It was more than a statement. I really did need to know what was being said about me in certain circles.

“Maybe, maybe not.”

We were at an impasse. One door opened and then another. I hadn’t planned to back down, but Tade had gone all rogue on me and gotten out of the truck. He came to my side.

“Who are you?” His New York accent was clear as he pointed at Tade.

“He’s nobody to you,” I said.

The second guy huffed his way over. I mentally checked the gun at my back I’d brought along as a precaution.

“Take it. It’s all there,” I said and eyed the bag full of Benjamins.

Instead of looking, he took Tade’s measure. That was a problem because Tade looked a little like his father. And Tate was well known in the underground. But he also looked a lot like someone else I knew.

“You look familiar,” the nosy private dick said, pointing at my friend.

I shifted to stand a little in front of him to get the attention back on me. Then I toed the bag, pushing it toward the guy.

“You can count it if you want,” I said.

Sounding like the weasel he was, he said, “I believe you.”

He aimed a stubby finger at the bag and grunted to the guy who’d joined us when Tade had gotten out. The man bent like he had arthritis of the knees, air expelling from his lungs before he panted as he grabbed it.

“We square?” I asked.

The man nodded and we all backtracked to our cars. It was a dance all men played when they didn’t completely trust the other.

After we got in the car, Tade and I didn’t speak. Though I spied his jaw working as he geared up to ask me a million questions.

“Don’t ask and I won’t have to lie to you,” I admitted, running a hand over my head while I steered with the other.

“You know you can tell me anything. I’ve got your back.”

I wouldn’t have expected anything less—that’s why he was more like a brother to me.

“Yeah, but some shit doesn’t need to be said.”

He didn’t argue. That was the thing about brothers. By the time we made it back to the dorm, we sat on the couch and started a game of Resident Evil like nothing happened.

The next day was a shit storm. I got back from class to find cops waiting for me. They weren’t in uniform, but I could smell one from a mile away. The first had a buzz cut and the other looked like he sat around eating donuts all day.

“Are you Gavin Volk?” the military-looking dude asked.

The fact that he had his hand at his hip, close to his service weapon, oddly relieved me. This meant that he was here for me and not to deliver shit news like my father had bit it.

I narrowed my eyes and matched his cool stare. “Yes.”

“We need you to come down to the station.”

Good thing I knew my rights. “Am I under arrest?”

“No.” But then he added, “Not yet.”

He didn’t like me. The doughy guy played good cop. He spoke next like we were buddies.

“We hope you can help us with an investigation.”

I relaxed my posture. “What investigation?”

If it had anything to do with the family, I would happily decline.

Good cop held up a hand to his partner, buttoning him up. “There’s a missing girl we want to find.”

That gave me pause. “Why do you think I can help?”

“If you could just come down to the station, we’d really appreciate it.”

I glanced at bad cop. Anger simmered under his cool glare. He thought I had something to do with it. Though I didn’t have to, it was better to agree and straighten this out than for them to come with a warrant and arrest me on campus.

“Fine. I’ll meet you at the station.”

“Now,” bad cop sneered.

“Do you think you could be there in an hour?” good cop asked.

I nodded and he handed me a business card. “Ask for me.”

Because I could, I didn’t go right away. Though I arrived within the hour as request. It turned out to be bullshit. The missing girl had been last seen getting out of my truck when I wasn’t in it. She’d been out with Tade. But they’d done their research and had pictures of Tade and I driving across the bridge to the drop when she’d left her building based on the security footage they obtained. Though they didn’t know where we were headed, they knew that we couldn’t be in two places at one time. So we were in the clear. They’d brought me in hoping I might know more than I thought or who she might have gone with.

A few hours later, I was released and gave Tade hell for my trouble. After I told him the story, my do-gooder friend wanted to do the right thing.

“I should go down and make a statement anyway,” he said.

“For what? You’ll blow my story. Since we’re each other’s alibi, they would start to question that. Just leave it. We both know we had nothing to do with it.”

Tade was visibly shaken. The girl that had gone missing was a blonde, and so was Reagan. I had other reasons to worry. The girl’s name was Meghan. When they’d first said it, I about lost it until they’d shown me her picture and it wasn’t my Megan.

As I stood at some distance away, needing to see for myself she was fine, I wondered: When had I started to think of her as mine?