The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,7
thought such a thing before. Mason always seemed so together. True, he didn’t talk much, but he never appeared stressed or out of sorts.
But then again, how would she know? Laila was relegated to the periphery of his life. Despite her interest in him, she knew next to nothing about the man.
Rosamie wagged her finger in Laila’s face.
“Nu-no,” she said, over-enunciating. “Stop right there. Mason isn’t some puppy that’s been kicked. You can’t take him in and make him all better. That’s the kind of shit that almost got you kicked out of the dorm freshman year.”
Laila winced. “I know Mason isn’t some charity case. I’m not an idiot.”
Rosamie nudged her with her hip. “I know you’re not. And I don’t want to kill your buzz—I really don’t—but you’ve been lusting after this guy for ages, and he’s never looked at you twice. Now you have your first real interaction, and he tackles you? Run. Run like he’s the devil.”
“C’mon, Mason isn’t a bad guy,” Laila protested. “He saves people.”
“Or so he says.” Rosamie scowled. “For all we know, he protects drug dealers and rich pedophiles. Mercenaries are just that—mercenary. They do anything for money.”
“I don’t know. That doesn’t read right to me. A man who cares for his plants so meticulously can’t be all bad.”
At least Laila hoped he wasn’t.
“I didn’t say he was, but now that you brought it up, how many people do you think he’s killed?”
When Laila didn’t answer, Rosamie sniffed. “Stick to college boys.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not exactly a line of those beating down my door.”
“That’s because you never give them a chance. I don’t know why not. You’re so pretty.” Rosamie waved at the distant row of Greek houses. “You could walk into any of those houses and have your pick of boys.”
“Ugh,” Laila said, bypassing the compliment. She knew she wasn’t hideous, but she could only call herself passably cute if she put in the effort to do her face and hair. Most of the time, she was too tired. “Bad example.”
As part of the Night Witches, the guys they regularly saw in the Greek houses were hostile and pretty gross. The smell of stale beer wafted from them in place of cologne. It made her stomach churn.
“You’re right,” Rosamie laughed. “But with a little effort, you could have anyone, not just the low-hanging fruit.”
“I don’t know why we’re even talking about this,” Laila said, resuming the walk to Greek Row. “My fantasies about Mason are just that. Not real. I know they’re kind of sad—that much is true. But it’s not like I have time to date anyone anyway. Between classes, getting enough hours at the store to cover rent and tuition, and the Witches, I have no time for a social life.”
“Laila, I love you, but that song is getting old,” Rosamie admonished, but she softened it with a smile. “At least get a fuck buddy. Any of the guys from the Pharmacology study group would do the job credibly.”
The class was a killer, hands down the most intense requirement of her respiratory therapy degree.
Laila made a face. “I’m not sure I can handle a fuck buddy.”
She didn’t’ come right out and say it, but Rosamie knew she wasn’t experienced. Laila wasn’t the type to go from zero to sixty without doing something stupid…like getting her heartbroken.
“You won’t know until you try,” her friend encouraged.
They stopped at the corner, and Laila grimaced at the row of houses. It was Friday night, so each one was lit and busy. Music blared as people milled in and out, going from house to house—a typical Friday night.
“Which one are we headed to first?”
Rosamie peeked at her phone at the text she’d received. “Alpha Omega.”
Laila’s groan was loud. “Those guys are the worst. I thought they were disbanded after what happened last month.”
Alpha Omega, the wealthiest fraternity on campus, had come close to being shut down when an alleged case of hazing landed one of their pledges in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
“Their alumni association paid through the nose to get them reinstated. Since the guy pulled through, the university was inclined to let them skate,” Rosamie said with a sniff. “But things are supposed to be better now. They’ve just elected that new hotshot transfer student as president—the lieutenant governor’s son. He’s supposedly walking the walk, not just talking the talk. He even said the Night Witches were welcome anytime.”