Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 836(@200wpm)___ 669(@250wpm)___ 558(@300wpm)
The visible shiver that turned my bones to jelly had him smirking cockily.
“Okay.”
The moment I closed Rowdy’s office door behind me, my smile took on a different form.
Sneaky.
Conspiratorial.
I’d never been alone in here before.
Sure, I’d snooped all through his home but hadn’t found any skeletons hiding in the closet, which had been suspicious enough since everyone had them.
It made sense that whatever buried secrets he was hiding would be kept here since Rowdy was a workaholic, and until me, he’d spent all his time at the shop—his real home.
Knowing I only had minutes until the window closed, I darted straight for his desk. The top drawer revealed nothing—some spare change, a rolled blunt, loose bullets for his AK, and rubber bands that he often wore around his wrist for quick access.
I checked the next drawer, but it was completely empty.
The last drawer held various forms for the shop, including blank copies of the Misconduct Form he made me fill out almost every day before we started fucking.
I started to shut the drawer when something at the bottom caught my eye.
It was a large black folder tucked and hidden underneath the mountains of boring forms. I removed the stack from the drawer and set them on the desk out of the way.
Stamped on the glossy front in gold Blackletter font were the words Idlewild Technical College.
I only hesitated a moment before carefully lifting the folder from the drawer and flipping it open. Small triangular blue ribbons decorated each of the four corners, while more of the Blackletter font was inscribed on the cream-colored parchment.
On the recommendation of the faculty and by virtue of the authority vested in them, the Trustees of the College have conferred upon
Owen Rashaad Wray
the degree of
Associate of Business
in Business Administration
The rest of the words printed in black blurred together as my mind drifted. We would often spend hours talking about our past and our hopes for the future.
Why would Rowdy not tell me about this? And why would he stuff his degree inside a drawer like he was ashamed of it?
Knowing him, he probably thought he was too gangsta to let anyone know he was really a closet nerd. I stuffed the folder and the forms back where I found them, making a mental note to come back for the folder.
Shutting the drawer, I turned and scanned the bookcase until my eyes fell on a small metal tackle box. The teal paint was peeling in some places and rusted in others, making it clear he’d had it for some time.
Eyeing the keyhole suspiciously, I tried my luck anyway, my stomach twisting violently when the lid wouldn’t budge.
Got you.
One of my most hated and admired qualities about Rowdy was how open and upfront he was. He never even bothered to lock his car door because every car thief and jack boy in this city not only knew Rowdy but feared and respected him. If Rowdy had gone through the trouble of locking this tackle box, he must not have wanted anyone to see what was inside.
I lifted the box to my ear and shook it, frowning at the quiet shuffle that emerged from within.
I was still ruminating over the possibilities of what it could be when the office door banged open behind me, and I jumped with a guilty squeal.
“The fuck you in here doing?” Rowdy demanded.
Stupidly, I spun around with the tackle box still in hand and found Rowdy standing in the open doorway of his office.
“I—What is this?” There was no point in lying or trying to hide that I’d been snooping. He’d caught me red-handed.
Rowdy gave me a blank look in return. “It’s a toolbox, Atlas. What does it look like?”
“Why is it locked?”
He gave a petulant shrug of his powerful shoulders and then closed the door behind him as he stepped inside. My gaze narrowed on him when he wordlessly walked over to the sideboard on the other side of the room, giving me his back as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fancy built-in cooler. I could see the rigid tension in the muscles of his back and knew that his ass was lying.
“Well, where is the key?” I asked as soon as he faced me.
He took the time to drain his water before tossing it in the recycling bin and closing the gap between us. “I don’t know, Atlas. I haven’t used that shit since before I opened the shop. It’s the first toolbox I ever had. My grandfather passed it down to me before he died, so I kept it for sentimental reasons. Now put it back and come here.”
“No.” I held the box tighter as I backed away. “You’re lying to me. What’s in here that you don’t want me to see?”
Rowdy growled, looking and sounding so much like the lion of Idlewild as he stalked me around the room. “Your front teeth if you don’t stop playing with me.”