The Lies That Bind

15: Pawn to D4

Calla contemplated the two white pills nestled in her palm.

Cooper had insisted she wait to use the bathroom until he was sure Vincent wasn't coming back to the apartment anytime soon—something about a morning workout, the details of which she cared about very little. But if Cooper thought she was going to be content sitting around while he hid her away...

The memory of that morning spent in bed brought the barest hint of a smile to her face. A smile that faded the longer she stared at the pills.

She hadn't meant to bring them. She'd found them in the mailbox just before her trip to the post office—before her trip here, to Cooper. The drop-off had been anonymous, as she'd requested, from a dealer who did not know her face or her name and who would not ask questions, so long as she had cash and a burner phone to keep their dealings private.

The pills, she knew, would be laced with fentanyl. Also as she'd requested.

Now there was just the simple matter of getting the pills to the professor. Another unfortunate statistic in the national fentanyl crisis, indeed. Calla would have to break into his apartment to get the job done. Or perhaps she could find some way into his office. But to be seen on a campus she did not belong on, let alone in the same building as the professor who was soon to be dead...

She could think of no better way to get herself caught.

But Cooper...he could do it.

A terrible, practical thought. She frowned, attempting to banish it. She remembered the way he'd combed back her hair that morning, when he'd thought she was still asleep. How gentle he'd been. How she'd longed to reach for him, even then.

To ask this of him would break him and whatever fragile thing nested between them. She was sure of it.

He's not the meek little boy he used to be, another part of her argued, clenching the pills in her fist. She glanced at the bathroom door, wary. It's the only way. It could take me weeks to catch the professor unawares, and without drawing attention to myself in the process.

Calla did not have weeks.

This was the simplest, most obvious path. Cooper had good reason to be in the professor's immediate vicinity. For him to get the professor alone, or else to find some way to distract him long enough to slip an extra pill or two into his bottle—such a thing would be child's play.

Sighing, she tucked away the pills and tied up her hair, glaring at her reflection. Loathing herself for what she was about to do, and for the guilt that would never come.

Cooper looked up from his coffee as she entered the kitchen, his hair tousled from sleep. "Took you long enough," he observed, and she was relieved that this, at least, had not changed after their night in bed together. She'd wondered...

His expression shifted to one of concern the longer he looked at her. "What?" He straightened, coffee forgotten. He looked more alert than he had yesterday—and the week before that, too. "What is it?"

She joined him at the counter, the pills still clenched in her fist. "You look like you finally got some sleep," she observed, thoughtful.

He blinked owlishly at her, surprised. "I..."

His astonishment wrung another smile out of her. "Well, look at that," she murmured. "I repel happy endings and restless nights."

"It's a little early for self-deprecation."

"It's a little early for a lot of things," Calla agreed, placing the pills on the counter between them. And she waited.

He eyed them suspiciously. "Viagra?"