Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (143 page)

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Quinn

I
got in the door and was relieved to find both my parents were out. My father
was meeting with a client in preparation for an upcoming trial. My mother had
decided to indulge in a spa package in order to relax. All I needed to relax
was a pizza and the quiet house.

The only problem
was after I had ordered the pizza, all I could do was pace. I still felt the
rush of adrenaline from the accident scene. It played over and over in my head
and each time, I was amazed. My body had reacted before my brain caught up.
Then, my mind worked faster and more fluidly than it ever had during class. I
made decisions quickly, recalled what I had learned in first aid training, and
it had all felt so natural.

When the phone
rang, I was so distracted that I did not notice the unknown caller icon.
"Hello?"

"Is this
Quinn Thomas?" a cheerful male voice asked.

"I'm sorry,
who is this?"

"My name is
Evan. Is this the Quinn Thomas that used my mother's Hermes scarf as a
sling?"

"Evan! You
surprised me. How did you get this number?" I asked.

"Well, you
did not accept our dinner invitation, but you did tell me your name and that
you were a local so I looked you up," Evan said. "Now I understand
about not wanting dinner, but my parents and I would really like to thank
you."

"Please don't.
It was nothing," I said. How could I explain how exhilarating I had found
his accident?

"It’s not
just us that thought so," Evan said. "The EMTs were pretty impressed
too. We all got to talking and I think we've come up with a great
suggestion."

"You talked
about me on the way to the hospital?"

"All good
things. So, as a thank you, my parents and I would like to offer to pay for
your EMT training and certification. To be honest, we did the research and it
may have cost more to take you to that five-star restaurant," Evan said.
"This way, we figure our thank you will end up helping a lot more
people."

I laughed.
"That is very generous of you, but I cannot accept that much money from
you. I'm just glad you are okay."

"Just
consider it," Evan said. He gave me his number and hung up.

I was still
smiling when my mother came in carrying the pizza. "I paid for it in the
driveway," she said. "I hope that's okay."

"Thanks."
I pulled out an extra plate and napkin for her.

"So," my
mother said as she sat down at a kitchen stool, "what are you smiling
about?"

She was so relaxed
and calm it was hard not to feel at ease around her. "I think I know what
I want to do," I said.

"Are you up
for giving me details or are you going to keep it under wraps?" she asked.
"Your sister always kept everything under wraps until she had it perfectly
thought out. She liked the big reveal."

"Yeah, I
guess that's a good idea. There are a lot of details to figure out," I
said.

"Well, at
least give me the general idea." My mother smiled and took a large slice
of pizza.

"I think I
found a way to use my talents to earn enough money to get certified in the
perfect career," I said. "And the best part is I can do it all on my
own. No offense."

"None
taken," my mother said. "I sometimes think I would feel stronger,
more steady, if I had made my own way. I don't regret marrying your father, but
he pays for everything and it leaves me, I don't know, adrift."

Her eyes started
to get a familiar faraway glaze. I could feel the relaxation and contentment evaporating
from her. My mother's mood swings always made me nervous. I chewed my pizza
carefully and wondered how to ask her about them. Did she know Sienna had the
same sharp ups and downs? My mother had to know it was dangerous. She had to
feel it.

"Oh, your
phone's buzzing," my mother said. "I'm just going to run upstairs and
get an aspirin." She disappeared up the staircase, and I had the sinking
feeling I would not see her again for too long.

I looked at my
phone and saw Owen's name. I froze. Part of me wanted to throw my phone across
the room.
Wouldn't life be simpler
without Owen?
I wondered. The majority of me, including my leaping heart,
knew that Owen would always be the one part of my life I could count on no
matter how messy things got.

"Hello?"
I asked.

"Quinn, is
there any way you can come over? The cops are here again and I feel like I need
someone to be my witness," Owen said.

"The cops are
at your apartment again?" I asked. I slid reluctantly off my stool and
looked up the stairs after my mother. "Shouldn't you call a lawyer,
instead?"

"Yes. I don't
know. I don't know how to handle this. They're not finding anything and I don't
want to blow it out of proportion. It would just feel better if I had someone
here on my side. Besides, your father is a lawyer. You'll probably understand
all this legal talk better than me."

I promised I would
leave soon and went to the foot of the stairs. "Mom? Are you okay?"

"Just tired,
darling. I think I'll turn in," she called down, her voice fuzzy.

"Do you mind if
I run out? I'll call Father and let him know," I said.

"Sure,
sure," her voice disappeared and I heard her bedroom door shut.

I was relieved to
get my father's voicemail. I told him I was running out to the store to grab a
few things and would be home soon. Then, I drove as quickly as I could to
Owen's apartment and found three squad cars parked haphazardly outside his
building.

#

I
found Owen pacing the hallway outside his apartment.

"Are you
okay?" I asked. I peeked around him into the open door. Four uniformed
police officers were systematically searching every inch of his apartment.

"No. I'm not
okay. I know you're not going to want to hear this, but I have a theory about
why this is happening," Owen said.

"Why wouldn't
I want to hear your theory?" I crossed my arms and leaned against the
hallway wall.

"Because I
think somehow your father is using his connections to create these search
warrants and send the cops over here." He saw my face and held up his
hands. "Hey, I said you didn't want to hear it, but think about it. He
doesn't want me around you. He'd be happy to discredit me in any way
possible."

"That doesn't
mean he would stoop to illegal measures," I said.

"That's why I
think it makes sense that it’s him. He can do all of this and make it seem perfectly
legal," Owen said.

I ran both hands
through my hair and had to strain not to pull any out. "So, you brought me
over here to throw me in the middle of some psychotic made-up dispute between
you and my father?" I asked.

Owen stopped
pacing and pried my hands off my head. "No. And it’s not psychotic. Your
father blames me for a lot of things, now more than ever."

"He can't
blame you for me quitting my nursing program. And even if he did, this would
make no sense as retaliation," I said.

"I don't think
it’s about the nursing program," Owen said. He bit his lip.

"You mean you
think this is about what happened with Sienna? He blames you for her
death?" I pulled away. "Look, Owen, this isn't what I needed tonight.
I'm sorry this is happening to you, but I am certain it has nothing to do with
my father."

He caught my hands
and pulled me back. "You're right, I know. I'm sorry. I just have no idea
who else would be after me like this."

"Didn't we
already talk about it and you thought it could be another player literally
trying to throw you off your game?" I asked. "Or, to counter your
insane accusation of my father, why don't I point out that it could very well
be Anya. A little jealousy might go a long way. She seems like the type that
would pay a powerful lawyer."

Owen looked as if
he had swallowed a tack and then he cleared his throat. "But the first
time happened before Anya started acting jealous, so it couldn't be her. And
I'm sorry to mention your father, but it could be possible."

I was glad when the
police filed out of the apartment because it stopped us talking. They walked by
without even speaking to Owen, so it was obvious they did not find what they
were looking for inside. It took three whole minutes of pounding silence before
either of us moved to enter the now-abandoned apartment.

"Do you have
any idea what they were looking for?" I asked. "Last time they
brought in a K-9, right? They're searching for drugs?"

"Yes,"
Owen said. He came inside and shut the door firmly behind him. "Someone
must be tipping them off that I'm using drugs."

"So, it makes
sense if it’s one of your neighbors, doesn't it?" I asked.

"I've never
had any issues with my neighbors. I'm on a first name basis with everyone,
including the landlord," Owen said. "The only complaint I've ever
heard was that we get a lot of visitors."

"What did you
say to that?"

"I pointed
out that Jasper and I were both young, single men with active social lives. It
was a reasonable explanation," Owen said.

I tried to lighten
the mood. "So, you had a steady stream of interesting visitors, huh?"
I wagged my eyebrows at Owen, but he was not amused.

"Friends,
gamers, and people Jasper works with," he said. "They were never loud
or stomping around at inconsiderate hours."

"So, regular
friends. Except for the random clients and freelancers that Jasper brings by,
right?" I asked. "You once told me you had not seen him with the same
person twice for a month."

"Yeah."
Owen shrugged. "Jasper meets a lot of people."

"And, they
never stay around for long, do they?" I asked. "They hang out here
for a bit and then head off to a bar or somewhere, right? Do you ever go with
them to the bar?"

"It’s not
really my scene," Owen said.

"So, you
don't know if he goes off and actually hangs out with these people or if they just
leave at the same time?"

"What are you
getting at?"

"Well, from
the outside, it would be easy to think you or Jasper were dealing drugs out of
your apartment," I said. "A steady stream of ever-changing people
that never really stick around for long. I could see that being something I
would think if it was happening at my neighbor’s."

Owen stretched
both hands out on the kitchen island and pressed down hard. "I knew it was
going to be something like that. No matter what, people are always going to
think I smoke marijuana or do drugs just because I play video games. I swear to
God, the stereotypes are the worst part about my career. Even at the
tournament, I heard over and over again how surprised people were at how I
look. They hear gamer and they think stoner wearing sweatpants and hanging out
in a basement."

"So, you
think some neighbor found out what you do for a living and just assumed you
must be a drug dealer, too?" I asked. "Think about it, there has to
be more to it than that."

"No, there
doesn't, and that's what really bothers me," Owen said.

"Well, then
do something about it," I said. I could not help but be impatient with
him. We were just standing around complaining when nothing bad had actually
happened to him. Plus, I was working on my own theory that I was shocked he had
not even considered.

"What am I
supposed to do about it?" Owen asked.

"Do an
interview talking about stereotypes. Write a blog post. Get your fellow gamers
into a discussion of how negative stereotypes affect them too," I said.
"It would give a little balance to the whole 'cops searching your
apartment' side of the story."

Owen leaned
further down on the island and buried his head in his hands. "It sounds
like you think I need to build up a case to prove I'm innocent."

"Well, it
wouldn't hurt because obviously someone thinks there’s suspicious activity here
at your apartment." I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face.
"Too bad they don't see everything that goes on here."

"I'm sorry I
accused your father, Quinn. I just feel like someone is out to get me," he
said. He stood up and joined me on the other side of the kitchen island.

"Or maybe
they are trying to pin it on you," I said. Owen did not take my hint. His
hands were too busy sliding around my waist.

He pulled me in
for a fierce hug. "Thank you for coming. I know I'm probably the last
person you wanted to see tonight. I thought maybe your father had convinced you
I was no good and that made me think I should give you space at the tournament.
I didn't mean to ignore your success or make you feel bad."