Smolder (Georgia Smoke #6)

• Four •

“I just don’t have time in my life for a stalker.”

Sebastian

The details that Wilder had pulled up on Crown “Royal” Shelton were limited. It took me a few minutes to get over the fact that she was named after a Canadian whiskey—and a fucking awful one at that—to realize how lacking her background information was. Typically, Wilder had every detail of a person’s life after he did his research. He’d said that was all he could find right away, but he was still digging. She didn’t even have bank accounts in her name. Her high school transcripts were impressive though, and she’d been offered several scholarships to colleges in other states, but she hadn’t taken any of them.

Her home address was in the information, so that was where I started. It wasn’t much to look at—that was for damn sure. The place was falling apart.

When she walked out of the front door, I was relieved. I’d wondered if Wilder had gotten it wrong.

Merce Dancastle attended many of the same functions I was forced to go to with my father. He always had some elite socialite on his arm. Most of those females had fathers in politics, like him. This girl checked none of those boxes.

She climbed on the back of a red Vespa, and momentarily, I caught myself questioning her safety, then remembered I wasn’t here to protect her. I stayed far enough behind so that I wasn’t noticed, although I didn’t think she was paying any attention to who was following her. I did ease in, narrowing the distance, making sure other cars didn’t get too close, when some fucker in a sports car almost ran her off the road. Hell, I couldn’t help it. That electric scooter thing didn’t look safe enough to have out on the main roads like she was doing.

Why was the Dancastle douchebag letting her drive that?

I’d question why she didn’t have a car, but from the looks of her house, I assumed she couldn’t afford it. Another thing Dancastle Junior could have given her easily.

When she turned onto the Howison College campus, I was surprised. There were no records about her attending any college, much less an elite private one. This was an expensive college. The Vespa was out of place with the luxury vehicles packing the parking lots.

I hadn’t gone over all Merce’s information like I should have. Maybe this was where he attended.

When she parked, I did the same but several rows over from her. She seemed oblivious to anything else happening around her. Someone should talk to her about paying attention to her surroundings. I began trailing her as she made her way toward a science building.

Instead of going inside, she stopped by a large oak tree and leaned back against it before digging into the worn crossbody bag she was wearing. I tried not to focus too much on the way the strap pushed her tits up, revealing a distracting cleavage. I wasn’t here to lust, even if her ass looked fantastic in those jeans.

A guy slowed down close to her, and she pulled out some papers, then held them out for him. He snatched them quickly to tuck into his backpack. The grin on his face as he spoke to her was annoying. His gaze dropped to her tits as he reached out his hand toward her again. The money that he tried to slyly slide into her palm before pulling his hand away and tucking it into his front pocket made this even more interesting.

Had he just paid her for the papers she’d handed him? There wasn’t any other reason for the transaction.

Puzzled, I tried to move in closer.

Two more guys stopped by after that one left, and the exact same process played out. She handed over papers, and they slipped her cash. I couldn’t see what was on those papers, but we were on a college campus, which led me to believe that she was either selling them answers to tests or doing their actual assignments.

It seemed pool wasn’t her only hustle. She could very easily be writing their papers or essays. I’d seen her high school GPA, which had gotten her full-ride offers to several universities.

When the last guy walked away, she started back to the sidewalk and headed down to another building. I stayed where I was until she slowed and turned. Keeping my eyes on her, I followed until I saw her go inside a history building.

What was she doing in there? She didn’t go to school here. I was positive she wasn’t enrolled. That wasn’t something that Wilder would have missed. I assumed she was just here to hand out papers and get paid.

I waited several minutes, and she didn’t emerge, so I debated on going inside to check on her. I had been planning on following her to the pool hall to “run into” her again.

Was she going into classes? Possibly sitting in on them? But why would she go sit in a class she got no credit for? Just to write papers for others? That seemed like a living hell. There were better ways to make money. From what I knew of her, it seemed more likely that she was hacking into the system and getting test answers to sell.

Before I reached the door, I decided going inside was too risky. I didn’t want her to know I was stalking her. That would mess things up. Instead, I went over to find a spot to sit in the shade, keeping me partially hidden from view.

Double-check that Royal isn’t enrolled at Howison College.

I sent the text to Wilder. He’d probably be insulted that I was questioning, him but I had to know.

She’s not. But give me a minute, and I’ll break into their system and check the records.

He was never wrong. And I knew that, but if she was going into college classes, then, well, it was gonna fucking change the way I was trying to look at her. I’d tried to focus on her being several things. A con artist, a liar, drug dealer, but not someone who wanted to learn even if they didn’t get credit for it. That required something more, and I didn’t want her to have it. Not if she was going to let me down in the end.

She is not in their enrollment, but the boyfriend is. I’ve already given you that information though. If she’s on campus, it’s to see him. You need to stay on that. See what they are doing.

No shit. That was why I was here. But he was right, I had to go inside.

I am.

Sticking my phone back in my pocket, I headed for the entrance to the history building. If she was in there with Merce, then it would make sense. I had been letting my hidden hopes that she wasn’t what we thought she was start to take over. Maybe Dad should have sent Wells. I clearly couldn’t look past her looks to keep focused on her actions.

The inside of the old building smelled like pine and lemon. I looked around, and the halls were empty, but there were several closed doors. This was just the first floor. I was going to have to check every fucking room until I found her. I should have followed her inside. Luckily, most doors had a window to see inside. I started with those.

When I reached the end of the hall, I hadn’t found Royal, but I did find a lecture hall. There were hundreds of people inside, and it went up to the second floor with an entry up there as well. I stepped back and headed for the stairs I’d passed earlier. She’d been in the building for almost thirty minutes at this point, and I knew I had at least forty-five minutes left before classes started to let go. The second floor was similar to the first, but had fewer doors with viewing windows.

I slowly opened the door to the lecture hall and slipped inside, staying against the back wall to scan the place without being noticed. It didn’t take me long to spot the familiar blonde head, as she sat near the back on the opposite side, writing in a notebook with a serious expression as the professor continued to speak.

Every few minutes, she’d pause and glance up, appearing to be entranced by whatever the man was saying about Colonial America before going back to her note-taking. She looked like a student. One who was diligently trying to get all the information she could. There was no sign of Merce. She wasn’t sitting near any guy at all for that matter.

Taking a seat where I had a direct view of her, I decided to stay and watch.

One hour and thirty minutes later, she walked out of the door closest to her. She didn’t speak to anyone, nor did she notice the heads that turned to watch her when she passed. I followed her to the mass communications building, and I let a few people go in behind her before I, too, went inside. She was entering a class when I spotted her, and I decided to stay back and wait out here this time. I paid close attention to everyone else who also went inside the room, but none of them were Merce. Once the hallway emptied out, I headed back outside and found a less obvious location so that I could watch the door.

Dancastle has a Political Theory class in two hours.

I read the text Wilder had sent and figured that was what I would wait for. See if she went to him then.

One hour and twenty-three minutes later, she walked out, talking to a girl on her left with glasses and short brown hair. They seemed to be discussing something from class, and Royal talked with her hands animatedly. I wished like fuck I could hear what she was saying. There was no sign of Merce, and if he was on campus for his upcoming class, he hadn’t come here, looking to find her.

The brunette waved and walked away as Royal started in the direction of the parking lot. Moving to her far left, I placed a row of cars between us so that I’d reach mine by the time she got to her Vespa. Her lack of awareness continued to bother me. She didn’t even glance my way when I pulled out onto the street behind her. Since she was dating Merce, she needed to fucking pay attention to her surroundings. Especially if his father was messed up with what Stellan believed he was.

When she parked outside the library, I figured this was going to take some time. Once she was inside, I headed in close behind her. The smell of books hit me the moment the doors closed, and I was going to have to fight off the urge to go explore. I loved that smell almost as much as I loved a good book.

Some other time.

Scanning the area, I found her talking to a redhead, who pulled out several books from behind the counter and slid them over to her. They talked quietly, and then Royal grinned before going around the counter and following the girl to the back. That was off-limits, except for those with a pass. I knew I could get by anyway, but again, too risky.

I glanced down the row of fiction books before taking a seat to wait.

In the three hours that I sat there, four different females approached me. One was bold enough to ask me if I wanted to go to her dorm room.

Wilder sent more info he’d found on Royal. Her mother had skipped out when she was six months old.

Jill Brinkley Clifton now lived in Little Rock, Arkansas, with her husband, Eli, and ten-year-old son, Alvie. She’d had three husbands before she married Eli, it seemed, but only the two kids. They lived in a two-story brick house in a middle-class subdivision with a chocolate Lab. From the photos, it was a hell of an upgrade from the shithole Royal lived in.

I didn’t get much further into the rest of her mother’s life when Royal reappeared with books, which she gave back to the redhead, then tucked a stack of papers in her bag before heading for the exit. When I got up to follow, my eyes met the redhead’s. She smiled nervously, then ducked her head as she blushed. At least she wasn’t paying attention to the fact that I was following Royal.

Instead of heading toward her house, Royal went in the direction of the downtown area. Several cars got too close to her, and again, I felt a protective urge to run each of them off the fucking road. Definitely not where my reaction needed to be. Not with this one.

The taken females seemed to be my unlucky lot in life. Except, in the past, they had just been emotionally taken. This one wasn’t just physically claimed, but she was a mark. Someone I was supposed to use for information. Liking her wasn’t an option.

She pulled into a narrow space between two buildings, disappearing from my view.

I was able to park my car close by and get out to go see if she had stopped in the alley or used it as a shortcut. When I saw her red Vespa parked, I was relieved I hadn’t lost her. She was standing outside a door, and I looked back at the building I was in front of and realized it was a diner—Rise and Dine. One of those buffet ones that did mostly breakfast and lunch.

I went back to watching her as the door opened, and a blonde with chin-length hair stepped out, glancing back behind her before handing a large plastic bag to Royal.

She took it, and the blonde shooed her away and then said something to make Royal smile before closing the door.

What the fuck was in the bag? It wasn’t carryout.

This was the first sign all day that she was mixed up with drug trafficking. A sour burn rose in my throat.

Royal went back to the Vespa with the bag, and I started for my car in hopes that she pulled back out this way and not through some other exit. I glanced at Rise and Dine to see it’d closed almost two hours ago.

Dammit, Royal, just when I started to think you just might be innocent in all this shit.

I climbed into my Porsche as the Vespa shot out and took off in the opposite direction.

Turning around, I sped up until I could see her again. After her second turn, I knew she was headed back to her house. I had hoped she’d head to the pool hall so I could stop stalking her and have an opening to talk to her. Get this ball rolling now that I’d caught her picking up something questionable in an alleyway.

I pulled over and parked several houses away. I watched as she carried the bag inside the house. Sitting here seemed pointless, and I couldn’t keep coming back to follow her around all the time until she went somewhere that I could casually approach her.

I’d just about talked myself into leaving when her door opened back up, and she came walking outside.

Here we go.

Was she going to Merce now?

She’d taken the bag inside though, and she wasn’t carrying anything with her. She didn’t move in the direction of her Vespa. She was walking out to the road.

No. She was headed for me.

Well, fuck .

I hadn’t been expecting that, and I wasn’t sure if this was an issue or not. Her hips swayed slightly as she made her way directly for my car. The jeans she’d had on were replaced for some short cutoff sweatpants that showed a whole lotta legs. Long, smooth, tanned …

I had to snap out of it. Time to lay on the charm.

I rolled down my window as she got close and waited.

She stopped and bent down, then looked me in the eye. “You,” she said as recognition lit her expression.

“Me,” I replied, leaning back and realizing I was enjoying this, even when I knew I shouldn’t.

I’d been sloppy, it seemed. When had I ever been sloppy? I tracked people regularly and had never been caught. But this girl had noticed me. If Storm found out, he’d laugh at me for months. No, make that years .

“What is it? What do you want? Who are you? And why the hell are you following me?” She tilted her head to the side as the silky strands fell over her right shoulder. “Are you a cop? Is that it? Because what you saw at Railhouse was just a onetime thing. They were asking for it.”

I was gonna laugh. She thought I was a cop. God, this was priceless.

“Maybe, but I’d say doing others assignments or giving answers to tests for money would be frowned upon by Howison,” I drawled, unable to help myself.

I still wasn’t sure how I was going to spin this to work in my favor. I figured I would throw her off first.

The flicker of panic in her eyes made me wish I hadn’t said that.

“You have no proof,” she said defensively. “And I have never given anyone answers to a test. I wouldn’t even know where to get that.”

There was no guilty quiver in her voice, only fear and determination.

“Actually, I would have proof easy enough it if I wanted it. But for your sake, probably best you handle your transactions off campus.”

She blinked, and her confused look made me grin. I couldn’t keep a straight face.

“I’m not a cop,” I told her. “I can’t believe you think I look like I could even be a cop.”

Her shoulders eased, and she ran her gaze over my car. “Well, I wasn’t sure. I don’t think a Porsche like this one would be on a cop’s salary, but then if you were undercover, it would fit in at Howison.” Her eyes snapped back to me. “Then, you’re just what, stalking me?”

I was in fact stalking her, but not for the reasons she believed. Letting her think I was a psycho with an attraction to her would probably work against me, but it was better than the truth.

“Not exactly,” I replied. “I was curious.”

She narrowed her eyes at me again. “About what?”

“You.”

She took a moment to study me.

“Listen,” she started. “I need to get back inside and make sure my Grams eats her dinner instead of hiding it or trying to wash her dish in the washing machine. I came out here because you have been tailing me since the library, and I wanted a reason why. So, either tell me what it is you want or leave me alone.”

“The washing machine?” I asked, still working my head around that comment.

She nodded. “Food and all. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get collard greens and niblet corn out of a washing machine?”

I shook my head. Was everything that came out of her mouth supposed to be so damn fascinating?

She laughed. “Of course you don’t. Do you even know how to work a washing machine? No! Never mind. I don’t care. I just don’t have time in my life for a stalker. Even one who looks like you and drives a car like this.”

I raised my eyebrows as her high cheekbones pinkened slightly.

“Who looks like me?” I asked, entirely too pleased by that comment.

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You know what you look like.”

I mean, yeah, but I wanted her to tell me what she thought I looked like. Maybe that was all I needed. I’d found females did stupid things when they were attracted to a man.

“Not necessarily,” I drawled.

Her pouty lips pursed as she looked down at me. “What do you want with me?”

I wanted to fuck her. At least, that was all I’d wanted when I saw her at the pool hall. But now, shit had gone south, and that wasn’t happening. Even though I still wanted to fuck her.

“Do you have plans tomorrow night?” I asked.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Was that really that surprising to her? Guys flirted with her all fucking day. I’d watched it. Their eyes followed her when she walked by.

“Yes,” she clipped.

“You gonna swindle some more men out of their money over a game of pool?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

She probably has plans with Merce , I thought sourly.

Although she hadn’t mentioned the fact that she had a boyfriend. She was either protecting him or planning on using him to get rid of me.

“You can’t change your plans?” I asked.

She bit her bottom lip like she might be considering it, then shook her head. “I can’t.”

Yep. She had plans with Merce. Well, I’d have to follow them and be more discreet. Not sure I actually wanted to witness them together, but it was why I was here.

“All right then,” I said with a nod. “I hope you have a good night, Royal.”

She frowned. “You know my name?”

I shrugged. “I did follow you all day.”

Her nose scrunched up. “I thought you started at the library.”

“Nope. Started right here at eight a.m.”

She sucked in a breath. “How did you know where I lived?”

“Google,” I lied.

“And my name?”

“Chatty waitress at the pool hall.”

She sighed with an annoyed grimace. “Bet I can guess who that was.”

Telling her my name would tip off Dancastle. He’d question why a Shephard was suddenly in Athens and sniffing around his girlfriend. I couldn’t have that. The less she knew, the more I’d get out of her.

I held out my hand through the car window. “Amory Blaine,” I told her, using a name from one of my favorite novels.

She looked down at my hand, then slowly slid her hand in mine to shake it. There was a slight crinkle between her brows as she lifted her eyes back to mine. “Amory Blaine—was it your mother or father who chose to name you after the protagonist in This Side of Paradise ? Or was one of them just a fan of Fitzgerald?”

Damn. I wanted to smile. She was well read. She remembered what she’d read, which meant she’d enjoyed it.

“My father,” I lied.

The right corner of her mouth tugged up. “Last name was Blaine, so he chose Amory to go with it. Or Amory Blaine is your first and middle and you’re leaving out your surname on purpose?”

I was leaving out a lot on purpose. “Surname in Blaine. My dad wanted to name me Amory because of it.”

When she dropped her hand from mine, I pointed toward her house, which was in desperate need of a good power wash, paint job, and new windows—at least three that I could see from here.

“I’ll let you get back to dinner,” I told her before she could ask me any more about myself.

She was smart, and I was going to have to be smarter. Starting with getting my attraction to her under control. I liked beautiful women, but I fucking loved intelligent ones who were well read. In order to keep from getting distracted by this girl, I was going to need someone else to keep me sated sexually.

She nodded, but said nothing as she watched me closely. Too perceptive. I winked as I rolled up my window.

She stepped back and then turned to walk toward her house, only glancing back once when she reached the yard. I lifted my hand in a wave, then pulled out onto the road and drove away. Leaving her behind and forcing my thoughts elsewhere.

It was time I asked out the Dolvin Cosmetics heiress my mother had kept pushing me to do. Just because Hattie Dolvin was a wealthy socialite that did some modeling didn’t make her shallow. I needed to give her a chance. This seemed like the perfect time.