Lachlan (Dangerous Doms #5) - Jane Henry Page 0,36

to standing. “You’re supposed to be on campus when?”

“Orientation in an hour.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. “Plenty of time to …”

“Case the campus? Absolutely. Let’s go.”

“Negative fun,” she says, shaking her head, but like a good girl she takes my hand and walks with me.

“And what exactly am I supposed to say you are if people ask?”

“I suppose your bodyguard is a little out of the ordinary.”

“A little.”

“Just tell them I own you.”

“Oh, that’s much better,” she says, probably aiming for sarcasm, but she can’t hide the flush of her cheeks or the way her breath catches.

Chapter 9

Fiona

“Tell them I own you.”

I wish he did. Bloody hell, I wish he did.

We’re getting there.

He came for me, and that right now is what matters.

He came for me.

My mind teems with so many details of the past few hours I don’t even know where to begin. I’d love a good chat with Aisling or Megan, but I’m not sure how that would work.

“Lachlan’s here. He slept next to me in bed last night, but he barely touched me. Until… he did. Bloody hell, until he did.

But I can’t let my mind get focused on a schoolgirl crush or the hopes that have risen in my chest like the bold roots of early spring flowers, pushing through the cold, hardened earth and turning their faces heavenward. Nor will I denigrate myself to begs or pleas, for a crumb of his attention. I haven’t overcome everything in my life to be second fiddle to damn near anyone or anything.

My guard was attacked and killed. I don’t know the workings of the Clan, but I know enough that I’m in danger. I know enough that my brother and Lachlan are, too. And I won’t squander our safety by making reckless decisions. So, I keep my head on straight. I hold his hand, and we go to campus.

I don’t miss the way he tucks me by his side, easily choreographing our steps so that he’s on the outside of me facing the street and I’m on the inside. I don’t miss the way his sharp, trained eyes take in every damn detail, from the uniformed men who sit at the front desk to the men on the street having a smoke outside the hotel door. He notices everything.

I also don’t miss the harness he has strapped around his waist nor the weapons he carries.

“They won’t notice those?” I ask quietly, out of the side of my mouth. Campus security’s everywhere we look when we arrive.

He shakes his head. “You let me worry about that.”

It isn’t until we get to the building where I’m to go for orientation, and a security guard sees Lachlan, that I realize he has more connections than I gave him credit. The guard’s eyes widen, and he nods and gives him a wide berth, like Lachlan’s royalty or something.

Lachlan jerks his chin at him, that weird way guys greet each other. “What’s the story, mate?” he asks in his easy way.

“Mr. McCarthy.”

They know who he is. And when Tiernan joins at the coffee shop on campus, I notice all the guards’ eyes on us. Maybe it’s their ink, or maybe they have history here, I don’t know.

Aisling joins us on the front lawn before the large auditorium.

“Only students and parents or guardians admitted,” she says sheepishly to Lachlan. She flushes pink when she looks at his hand in mine, and even redder when Tiernan comes out of the coffee shop bearing a tray of cups.

“Everything alright, Aisling?” he asks. “Have you seen anything out of place at all?”

She shakes her head. “Well, no,” she says, flushing. “But I… well, I didn’t spend the night in my room.”

Tiernan’s eyes narrow. “That why I couldn’t find you?”

I stifle a groan. What the hell did she do?

“Didn’t know you were looking,” she says, her cheeks heating.

“Where were you?” he asks. “And I want the name of the people you both were with last night.”

“Well I…” her voice trails off. She looks abashed. “Spent the night with a date,” she finally says. “I can give you his name and number.”

“Call him,” Lachlan says.

“What?” Aisling looks at Lachlan like he just sprouted another head.

He keeps his gazed levelly fixed on hers. “Call him.”

Tiernan hands me my coffee cup, and Aisling fumbles with her phone. “Fine, then,” she mutters. With trembling fingers, she flips her hand over and looks at the number she’s got scrawled on the palm of her hand. I stifle a groan. She