“Hi, hi,” a soft voice rose up from somewhere below his attention.
Reluctantly, Alex shifted his gaze from Lia and the room and saw a short little blonde standing before him, batting thick fake eyelashes around watery blue eyes.
She had some meat on her, which was the way he liked women best—short and a little round. Something soft to hold onto, and somebody he could surround.
Lia used to be built like this, soft and curvy—though she was taller, about five-eight, he guessed. Still short enough that she seemed petite beside his six-two. But she’d gone on some wackadoodle diet over the summer, and now she was practically emaciated. He saw how much she didn’t eat these days, and, frankly, he didn’t like it. He thought it was unhealthy. But he didn’t think it was part of his job to report on her eating habits.
It was his job to protect her from people who might want to hurt her, and he was on that job right now, so he didn’t give the little blonde much of a grin. Just enough so he was acting like a college guy at a frat party.
She was cute, though. He’d totally have paid her some mind if he could, might have taken what she was obviously offering. All these horny college hotties all around him every fucking day, coming on to him several times a day, but he was always on the job.
“Hey,” he said, trying to achieve a balance between friendly and uninterested.
She held up a red plastic cup and slipped up closer, so her body brushed with his. Rising onto her toes, she made herself heard over the racket of a sound system cranked way past its capacity and said, “You look thirsty. I’m Becca.”
The cup was full of flat beer from a keg. “I’m not thirsty, Becca.”
“Oh.” She looked crestfallen, but recovered and tried again. “Are you a Sig Rho? I’m pledging Alpha Phi.”
Alex’s attention was back on Lia. She was talking to Biff Billionaire over there, who was gesturing across the room—to the bathrooms. She dipped a cute little nod and went off that way. Her hands smoothed over her hips and ass as she walked—one of her tells when she liked a guy; she was self-conscious about her ass.
She had no cause to be. Just like he had no cause to feel this weird twinge when she flirted with guys.
Biff picked up the Solo cup she’d set down and went to the keg. While Alex watched, vaguely aware that Becca was still talking, trying to catch his interest, Biff filled Lia’s cup and set it back where she’d left it.
Then he looked around—Alex’s internal siren began to shriek—and put his hand in his pocket.
Alex moved. He snagged his phone and keyed a code, then traded his phone for the other thing in that pocket. By the time Biff had a little glass vial in his hand, Alex was there.
He pressed his knife into Biff’s side and said, “That, my friend, is the worst choice you’ve made in your whole pathetic life.”
Biff stiffened. “I don’t know what you think, but whatever it is, you got it wrong, bro.” He tried to put the vial back in his pocket, but Alex clamped his hand over Biff’s wrist and took the vial himself.
“No, I don’t. But your night is about to get very wrong. Come on. We’re going out the back, and if you make one sound or move like there’s a problem, I will gut you like the pig you are.”
Biff didn’t budge. “Who the fuck do you think you are, bro?” He sounded more pissed and surprised than scared, but his tune would change soon.
“Not your bro, that is a fucking certainty.” He pushed on the knife, let it prick Biff’s skin and make his eyes blow wide. “Move. Now. Or this party gets bloody. I’m using a knife now, and I can kill you with it before your knees buckle, but that’s not all I got.” That was no bluff; there was a compact Beretta Px4 Storm holstered against the small of his back.
Biff moved, lurching toward the back, but he protested, “You’re the one making a mistake. Do you know who I am? Who my father is? And this place is full of my friends. You try to fuck with me, you fuck with all of us.”
“Big talk. We’ll see. Either way, your only shot at not getting your gut unzipped is to do what I say.”