Getting the Edge: Betrayed Book 1 (3 page)

“Thank god. I’m not sure what I’d have done if you were…you know…into me or something.”

Amanda laughed again. It felt good, if she was honest with herself. “No, I’m not into girls, I promise. I just am more concerned with my program here. I want to do well.”

“Girl, you are missing out. You have your whole life to be mature and responsible. Live a little!”

“We’ll see,” Mandy hedged.
Live a little? Yeah, as if
.

*~*~*

By the end of the day, Amanda discovered that Tracy had indeed been assigned here to her room, so she wasn’t worried that someone had sent her—at least not quite as much.

As much as she wanted to distance herself from the students, she knew that people would also talk if she was a total recluse, so when Tracy had found a party at one of the frats, she’d reluctantly agreed to go with her.

Maybe if she interacted a bit more, her teachers wouldn’t ask questions she couldn’t answer.

Tracy brought her out of her musings when she held up a tiny dark blue dress. “What about this one?”

Mandy looked at the dress. “It’s pretty,” she said. “You should wear it.”

Tracy giggled and raced to the bathroom to put on the tiny dress as Mandy shook her head. She herself had dressed in a long, black skirt and a purple sweater. Nice, but not obviously trolling, she’d decided. She even put on the glasses she didn’t really need unless she was reading.

The last thing she wanted to worry about was being hit on at some party.

When Tracy came out of the bathroom, Mandy had to admit that the girl looked good. The dress wasn’t as short as she’d first thought, and it hugged her curves, as she was sure Tracy knew.

There was little doubt Tracy would get hit on if that was her goal. “Looks good.”

“I know, right? I love this dress. It’s my ‘not-sure-what-to-wear-but-want-hot’ dress.”

Mandy shook her head and chuckled. “I thought that was supposed to be a little black number.”

“Nah. Black is out. Besides, blue looks better on me.”

By the time they reached the party and paid the $5.00 fee for a red cup Mandy had no intentions of filling with anything alcoholic, she was already regretting deciding to come.

The room was filled with people. Most of them were drunk or well on their way. Of course, at twenty-three, she was of age, but she’d bet her last dollar half these kids weren’t over eighteen or nineteen. She shrugged, knowing it was a common theme in colleges everywhere. Her own plastic cup was filled with Coke.

She stood by the edge of the living room and tried to look invisible. The music was blaring, but not bad.
Maroon 5
was a great group. Still, there were too many people. She really just wanted to go back to the dorm.

Twenty minutes later, she’d made up her mind to do just that. She weaved her way through the maze of bodies and to the door of the frat house.

Once outside, she gave a sigh of relief. Parties had never really been her thing—not even when she’d been in high school. She sat on the steps and wondered if she should walk back or take one of the shuttles.

The campus offered shuttle service until midnight on weekends and till ten on week nights.

She glanced at her watch with a groan. It was just past ten. They didn’t consider Friday a ‘weekend’ for some stupid reason. So much for a shuttle. She looked down at her two-inch heels. Oh well, it wasn’t that far back to the dorm.

She sat the cup down and headed down the sidewalk. Coming had been a mistake, but it wasn’t a big deal. She’d lasted almost an hour before cutting out.

At the end of the walk, she saw someone coming toward her and frowned. Most people that were coming to the party were already there.

She froze in her tracks, her eyes wide, and a scream bubbling up on her lips.

A hard hand closed over her mouth before she could release it.

“Hello, Mandy. Miss me?” Brandon Walsh drawled.

Chapter Four

Brandon lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Don’t scream, Amanda. That would really upset me.” He waited for her jerky nod before slowly moving his hand from her mouth.

“How’d you find me?” she asked in a whisper, terrified.

“I was a cop, Amanda. Did you really think I couldn’t find you?” he asked, his smile as icy as his tone. “Let’s go.” He took her hand in a tight grip and pulled her toward his car.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Brandon. Just go. I won’t tell anyone you were here. You have to go!” she said urgently.

Brandon didn’t bother answering. He opened the door on his Mustang and released her hand. “Get in and don’t make a scene,” he replied coldly. He wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t need to know that. If she screamed, and cops came, it’d be all over.

Maybe approaching her at night like this had been a bad idea, but damned if he’d been able to talk himself into waiting till a better time.

He’d seen her leave her dorm with her friend and had just seethed. She’d been going to school and making friends while he’d been locked in a damn prison cell.

“Get in,” he repeated. “Don’t make me ask again.”

Mandy slid into the car, her arms folded across her chest. She didn’t speak until Brandon had climbed into his own seat. “You still have it?”

He gave her a questioning look. “It?”

“The Mustang,” she said softly.

“What? You thought I’d lose my car with everything else I lost?” he snarled. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He saw her cringe and refused to feel even a moment’s guilt. She deserved to be afraid.

“I’m not disappointed,” she retorted. “I’m just surprised. What are you doing here? Where are we going?” she asked when he’d pulled back to the street.

Brandon didn’t bother answering. He needed time to think. The reaction he’d had to seeing her had surprised him. The fact that the fear on her face could cause any reaction other than satisfaction was irritating.
Don’t fall for it, Brandon. She’s a good actress.
Yeah, she was a very good actress. His mind went back to the trial.

“Ms. Wilson, can you tell us in your own words what happened on the night of your attack?” the prosecutor had asked.

There had been tears in Amanda’s eyes as she’d looked at Brandon; tears and fear. “He attacked me. I’m not sure why,” she’d whispered.

The jury had bought that, and the rest of the lies, hook, line and sinker.

“Brandon, just take me back to my dorm, and we can forget that you ever came here,” Amanda said quietly, her voice breaking. “Please, just take me back.”

Brandon looked over at her, his anger mounting. “Why would I do that, Amanda? I just spent two years in prison for attacking you, remember? Shouldn’t I at least get a little satisfaction?”

He saw her pale and refused to feel guilty. She deserved to be afraid. Of course, he wouldn’t hurt her. He wasn’t the type to abuse women—even ones that deserved it as she did. But, maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get enough answers from her to clear his name.

“Is that what you need? Revenge?”

Brandon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles hurt. “What do you think? Why, Amanda? Don’t I at least deserve to know why?”

“It’s not safe for you to be here! You need to go,” she said urgently. “Please, Brandon, just go.”

Brandon pulled away from the university campus and onto the highway. He’d rented a cabin a few miles from town where he figured he could at the very least make her talk to him.

It was a weekend at a university. He didn’t figure her being gone over a weekend would send out any flags if her friends were watching her. Party girl having a weekend away. “The girl you came with. Call and tell her you’ve hooked up for the night.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Your friend. Text her and tell her you won’t be back tonight,” he said through gritted teeth.

He reached for the small bag she still clutched in her hand and pulled out her cell phone and tossed it onto her lap. “Do it,” he snapped.

“I don’t know her number.”

Brandon’s jaw tightened. “Am I supposed to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not! It’s the truth. She’s a new roommate. I just met her.”

Brandon sighed and turned the car around and headed back to the campus. “Fine. You can leave her a note. Pack a bag, too.”

“I’m not leaving school with you,” she said dully.

“Oh, you are, Amanda. You are going to do exactly what I say if you don’t want your roommate hurt.”

She slumped into the seat. “Fine.”

Amanda didn’t speak as they rode back to the campus. She was so tired. Tired of being afraid. Tired of it all. Maybe it was better this way.

If he’d found her, others could have as well. She wasn’t safe here anymore, anyway. If nothing else, she had to believe Brandon would keep her safe long enough to get the answers he wanted.

But, as she studied the man sitting next to her in the small confines of the old Mustang—she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.

He looked so different from the man she’d remembered. The man she’d fallen in love with so long ago now.

Harder. He was harder, she realized. For some reason, she hadn’t expected that.

Somehow, she’d get away from him and she’d run again. She’d run as fast and as far as she could. It had been stupid to think he wouldn’t have tracked her down. She hadn’t done a good enough job of hiding if he’d found her in only a week.

When he stopped the car in front of her dorm, she reached for the handle.

“Wait, I’m coming in with you. Don’t do anything stupid, Amanda. Don’t try to alert anyone. Don’t try to send any messages of any kind, got it?” he warned.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He nodded and climbed from the car, and walked around to open the door. He helped her from the car and wrapped an arm around her waist. Only she knew that this show of manners was just that: a show.

There would be no running in the shoes she had on anyway, she knew. For now, she’d have to play along with him. There was little else she could do.

They walked inside quietly. The RA was apparently not paying much attention, as any stranger coming into the dorm this time of night should have caused at least a question as to what was going on. Vincent University wasn’t keen on overnight guests in the dorms, but the halls were empty.

“I need my keys,” she said, pausing at a door.

Brandon handed over her purse. He’d already looked inside and knew that other than the phone, a tube of lipstick, wallet, and keys, it was empty. When she’d pulled out the keys, he took them and unlocked the room, then reached around the corner for the light switch.

“Get what you need, Amanda. For a few days. Make it look like you decided to have a weekend away,” Brandon said.

She knew he was watching him as she grabbed a couple pairs of jeans from the closet and some T-shirts. “Where are we going?”

“Just get the stuff, and write the note so we can get out of here,” he said stiffly, pacing the small room.

“Am I coming back?” she asked quietly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“I’m losing patience, Amanda. You have two minutes, and we’re leaving—with whatever I decide to grab.”

“I need some things from the bathroom.”

“Then get them.” He followed her into the small room and watched to be sure she didn’t grab anything dangerous, she assumed.

She didn’t have any kind of weapon—and she didn’t think she’d have had the heart to use one even if she had. She grabbed a brush and her toothpaste and such, then tossed it into the small case Brandon held out to her.

“Write the note,” he ordered, pointing to the desk. “Tell her you are going away for the weekend with a friend.”

She nodded and sat at the desk and did as he asked. “Can I bring my computer?”

“Why? Do you want to email someone?” he taunted. “Sorry, don’t think so.”

“Look, this girl just moved in here today. I don’t know her. I don’t want my computer left here.”

With almost a snarl, Brandon picked up the computer and slid it under his arm. “Let’s go. Time’s up.” He’d watched when she’d written the note, and couldn’t figure she’d put in anything that would be any sort of warning to anyone that she was in trouble.

“Can I change?”

He shook his head. “You have clothes here.” He didn’t think she’d try to run in what she had on. Not on those shoes, at any rate. “But you can grab some tennis shoes if you have them, and put them in the bag.”

Amanda nodded and grabbed a pair of shoes from the closet and stuffed them into the bag, along with a few underthings she’d also forgotten to pack. And something to sleep in.

Brandon stood at the door and after being sure the hall was clear, motioned for her to go out. He closed and locked the door, then pocketed her keys. “Your car somewhere safe?” he demanded.

“Why? Afraid it might be stolen?”