Lethal Queen Bee (Embassy Academy #2) - Emily Kazmierski Page 0,22

fire, but there sure as hell is a deadline. I don’t even want to think about what will happen if I can’t get Cal’s car back to the school parking lot by tomorrow morning. “Pretending to date you was such a mistake.”

His entire body goes limp and heavy under my palms. “If you’d rather go tell Kenneth you lied about us dating, I won’t stop you.” He’s teasing me.

“NO. No. Fine. Use a pet name. I’ll deal with it.”

He shoots a gloating look over his shoulder. “Words I never thought I’d hear. You know, a lot of people like terms of endearment.”

I give him a little shove. “You’re being mushy again. Knock it off.”

He stops dead on the sidewalk, and I run into his solid back. “I could call you sweetie pie. Honey bun. Baby.”

Rolling my eyes, I shoot around him and speed walk up the sidewalk. “Those are all so generic.”

He catches up with me in a few easy strides. “Hence why I started calling you mon coeur.”

“And I’ll call you…”

“Ricky.”

Genevieve used to call him that. I don’t know if I can make myself use it too. Especially in front of her. “Didn’t you try to get Adrienne to call you that? No. Think of something else.”

A car slows and pulls alongside the curb.

“Wait,” Ricardo says, pushing me behind him.

“Hey—!” But I don’t argue any more. If he wants to get shot or kidnapped instead of me, I’ll let him. He can be unpredictably chivalrous, but I’m sticking with self-preservation.

Ricardo’s mom climbs out of the car, and Ricardo’s arms relax, dropping from my sides.

I step out from behind him and take his hand in mine. If anyone finds out my relationship with Ricardo is fake, it won’t be because I didn’t put on a good enough show. “Mrs. LaGuerre. Nice to see you.”

“Thanks, dear.” She focuses on her son. “If you’re going somewhere, I can give you a lift.” Hope lightens her expression as she smiles at Ricardo.

Ricardo’s fingers squeeze around mine. “No, thank you. We don’t need a ride.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he gives a slight shake of his head.

“Goodbye, Mother,” he says before leading me away along the sidewalk.

Looking over my shoulder, I can see that Mrs. LaGuerre hasn’t moved. She watches us as we leave her behind, her shoulders slumped.

“Why did you do that?” I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot. “She just wants to help you and get to know you again. Why would you reject that chance?”

Ricardo looks at me out of the corner of his eye as we turn the corner. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I huff. “I wouldn’t understand a distant parent making overtures to get to know me? Oh, really? You’ve met my stepfather, right?”

He stops walking and indicates a set of steps that go down into the sidewalk. “We’re here.”

A man brushes past us, muttering something about “ignorant kids” under his breath.

“Is it safe down there?” I ask, peering down into the subterranean space.

Ricardo’s face settles into the cocky grin that almost makes me want to do something I’ll regret. “Stay close. I’ll protect you from the mole people.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs all the way down the stairs, and I have to admit, I’m being kind of ridiculous. This is probably going to be good for me. I’ve clearly been living in a safe, cushy bubble for far too long.

With some extra persuasion in the form of government recognized currency, Mo agreed to work late and finish Cal’s car. There are not enough words in English to express my relief. I’m honestly shocked the police haven’t checked all of the cars on campus yet, and even though the headmistress didn’t mention that it was a possibility, I’m certain it’s only a matter of time. Besides, if the police were going to come inspect our cars, they wouldn’t give us a heads up, would they? It would give the perpetrator ample time to have their car detailed. Exactly like I’m having done.

Nothing prepared me for the sight of Cal’s car.

When Ricardo and I got back to Mo’s this morning, again via the subway, which I’m kind of starting to like, the car is spotless. Not a dent in sight. No one would ever be able to tell that it had been damaged, much less that I killed someone with it.

Mo might be my new favorite person.

“This is fantastic.”

Unruffled by my enthusiasm, Mo takes my credit card and runs it through his reader. Glancing up, he eyes the crest on

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