Stalked by my Professor Novel

Chapter 67 "Slippery eel that one," Deputy Thatcher says, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares after Haven. "These kids see a badge and they clam right up." "Look, Detective⁠-" "Deputy." I briefly squeeze my eyes closed. How can I forget when you keep fucking correcting me? "Any idea what happened to her foot?" "None whatsoever. Now, I'm sure you have more important work to get to than⁠-" "Oh, this is important." He glances behind him, dismissing the crime scene tape dangling from Haven's bedroom door with a flick of his eyes. "Not this." Ice percolates through my veins.

"Not this?" I ask lightly. Thatcher shakes his head, mouth turning down at the edges. "There's a boy in serious condition over at Agony Memorial." Ezra. It's been months since I've so much as greeted Kai's brother. It's never a good idea to draw attention to yourself or the student you used to fuck when you're trying to stay in the dean's good graces. Thatcher is watching me intently, but he needn't have bothered. I'm making sure my face is as blank as the next page in his notebook. "Ezra Jordan." I nod, then shake my head too, sighing. "Yes, that was...that was an unfortunate incident.

You say he's still in bad shape?" "Heavily sedated, from what I've been told. I've asked the hospital staff to notify me as soon as he's well enough to make a statement." "Well, let's hope that's soon." Fuck it, Kai. Like I don't have enough shit to deal with? "Do you know either of the Jordan boys?" I shrug as I plan a path to the least incriminating answer. My hands desperately want to drag through my hair, but I keep them clenched in my pockets. "They've both been students of mine." In more ways than one.

Find the newest release on Find[ɴ]ovel.net "And Kai is currently my TA." I clear my throat when I hear how strained my voice sounds. "Speaking of which, I have a stack of papers to grade, so if that's all⁠-" "I realize you're busy, Professor. I'll be as brief as possible," Thatcher says, not lifting his eyes from his notebook filled with lines of cramped handwriting. He seems to have found whatever evidence he was looking for, smiling grimly as he lifts his head. "Let's discuss Haven." My stomach twists.

"What about her?" There's a beat of silence, the deputy watching me with unreadable eyes as I glare back at him. When I realize what I'm doing, I have to force my face to relax. "What exactly is your relationship to her?" "I just told you, she's a student of mine." I speak slowly and carefully, like I'm not sure if Thatcher understood what I said the first time round. Thatcher nods, grim smile growing tighter as he completely ignores my insinuation that he's an idiot, and instead encourages me to elaborate. Fucker. My lips are dry as chalk, but I don't dare lick them.

Why am I here to see my student Haven? Overdue assignment? Poor grades? To return the cardigan she left behind in my class? No, Deputy Thatcher. I came here to kidnap Haven and lock her in my house so she's at my disposal twenty-four-seven for my every depraved need. And then I'll throw Kai in there with her too, because, fuck, I get off on watching them hate-fuck each other with their eyes. And they'll be my little pets until I grow bored and send them off to the farm. My phone rings, and Jesus, I nearly sigh in relief.

Thatcher opens his mouth, but I hold up a finger, throwing him an icily apologetic look as I answer the call. "This is Rooke." "Morning, Professor." I take a second to recognize the voice. People usually don't speak to me with such guarded terseness. Except her. "Norma. Good morning!" She hesitates, because I've never laid it on this thick with her. Had no need to-she's useless to me, barely one step above the janitor and his migraine-inducing, lemon-scented wood polish. "It's Nora," she corrects almost reluctantly. "Of course. What can I do for you?" She clears her throat.

"It's about Professor Sutter." My spine stiffens at the name. Sutter-the academic equivalent of a cheap suit. Ill-fitted for anything beyond mediocrity. This call would have been over already if Thatcher weren't staring at me with determined expectation, perfectly happy to wait for me to finish my call so he can catch me in a fucking lie and cart me off to Guantanamo. "What of him?" My tone is clipped, but as warm as I can manage. All for Thatcher, of course. "He's taken ill. The dean requested you fill in for him.

It'll just be for two weeks at most." I stare at Thatcher, who's doodling in his notebook while pretending not to eavesdrop on my side of the conversation. Two weeks of regurgitating Lombard's intellectual hand-me-downs sounds like hell on Earth. But something tells me I'm going to need as many brownie points as I can score. That, or I'll have to leave town again. "Of course," I say, injecting just enough cheer into my voice to mask my irritation. "Happy to help, Norma." The relief in her voice is blatant. "Perfect!

I'll let the dean know." "I'm in the area, so I'll come past and collect Sutter's notes from his office straight away." She sounds confused. "Oh, uh, I can just email them⁠-" "Yes, I fully understand how urgent it is. I'll be right over." Now she sounds flustered. "Well, I guess if you'd prefer to⁠-" "Alright, Norma. See you now." "Sorry, Professor, just one more thing," she adds quickly before I can end the call and escape Thatcher's unwavering stare. "Yes?" My teeth clench tighter, and I turn it into a rictus grin. "You don't perhaps know how I can get in touch with Haven Lee's father?

He had a meeting this week, but he never showed." "What meeting?" I cut in. "Oh, uh..." the liaison hesitates. I can just imagine her fussing with the cheap reading glasses she wears on the end of her nose. "Dean Winslow arranged a sit-down with him to air some grievances." The words hit harder than they should. And I know it's just my paranoia kicking in again, but I swear Thatcher is leaning forward as he strains to hear. I hold the phone away from my ear. "Do you mind?" I say dryly. Thatcher looks surprised that I'm speaking to him, then gives me a chagrined shrug as he steps back.

One foot. Jesus, this fucking guy⁠- "Leave it with me." I hear the sharpness in my tone, and smooth it out with effort. "Things are...delicate at the moment. You know how it is with these students. I'll speak to the dean and make the necessary arrangements." "Oh, I see," Nora says faintly. "I had a feeling something wasn't right when⁠-" "Alright, Norma, we'll talk more when I come to collect the class notes. See you in a few." The moment I end the call, Thatcher steps up and opens his mouth. I hold up my hand, shaking my head.

"There's a staff shortage, so my workload just doubled." My words are as precise and deliberate as the way I tuck my phone back into my pocket. "If you still have questions next week, Deputy Thatcher, feel free to contact me then." Thatcher holds up his hand too, but his face is all apologies. "All I want to know is if you were anywhere in the vicinity of this 'Rain Dance'." "Seeing as it was less than half a mile from the country club, yes. I'd say I and nearly all the faculty were in close proximity." Thatcher purses his lips. "Were you aware that Mr.

Jordan was bullying Haven?" I almost ask which Jordan he's referring to. Almost. But I don't, and yet, Thatcher still clarifies with belated, "Ezra, of course." Of course. "No." "I see." He bows his head to scratch something in his book. Thatcher isn't just asking questions. He's building a fucking case. And every seemingly casual inquiry is another potential nail in my coffin. Fuck this.

"You have my number." I turn on my heel, pretending I've turned deaf when Thatcher calls out, "Actually, Professor, you never gave me your..." He trails off as I trot down the stairs, and it feels like I'm escaping by the skin of my teeth. That creaky step groans under my weight, forcing a sour, "Piece of shit," from me. There's no relief when slide into my Tesla's red leather seat. Not with Thatcher's penetrating stare stuck in my head. Ezra, Kai, Haven, the dean, and now Thatcher? How had I convinced myself I'd be able to keep head above water with all this fucking baggage?

But that's just it...I was doing fine until Haven Lee came along. I just couldn't resist those bright, innocent eyes, could I? The leather steering wheel squeaks under my white-knuckled grip, pressure bleeding into a single, searing thought. I need to decide what I want. The fresh start I need-that I deserve-or Haven Lee. Logically, it shouldn't even be a choice. But Evelyn's methods eradicated bullshit like logic and reason and empathy a long, long time ago. All I'm left with is chaos...and depravity.

And a sudden, desperate need to find out where the hell Haven was off to in such a fucking hurry. After that, I'll find Kai and have a little chat about...boundaries.