I’ve searched every nook and cranny in this room and there’s no password. I’m typing out a defeated response to Jackie as frustrated tears fill my eyes. This isn’t over. There has to be something else I can do. Something more I can try. I stare down at Monte’s desk. I know the evidence I need is somewhere on this laptop.

“Fuck it,” I say out loud to myself. My battle cry as I grab the laptop and dive head first into the world of petty crime.

That’s when I see it. A bright yellow Post-it sitting right where the laptop was. I snap a quick photo and shoot it to Jackie with one word.

Me: Jackpot!

DominaTrix: Pu$$y_Slaya??? what a douchecanoe

Me: Told you…his highness, king of the douchebags

I laugh at myself, at the ridiculousness of this situation, as I carefully put the laptop back exactly where it was. I’m relieved and have a wide smile across my face. Already thinking about the next step in the plan to rescue Austin, I’m not careful enough when I leave Monte’s room. I didn’t notice someone standing at the end of the hallway, staring at me.

“What are you doing, Elizabeth?” Austin growls.

I jump about three feet in the air and let out a sharp yelp. Austin’s blue eyes are on fire as he scowls at me, one eyebrow raised in contempt. I press my hand to my chest and will my heartbeat to slow down. My mouth has turned into the Sahara. I try to swallow, but I can’t. I try to breathe, but it’s more of a pant. I haven’t seen him since the library. Since he shattered my heart into a million pieces. He’s even more beautiful than he is in my daydreams.

Of all the people to catch me coming out of Monte’s room, it has to be Austin? Why, God? Just why? What the hell did I ever do to you?

“I…uh…I was…looking for…uh…the bathroom?”

Smooth, Elizabeth. Real smooth. At least I didn’t tell him I was gassy.

Austin shakes his head, crosses his arms, and says, “Liar. Try again.”

His glare is molten on my skin, searing into me. I can’t stop my gaze from roaming over his body. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black Henley pushed up to his elbows, dark jeans and black boots. He hasn’t shaved recently and his jaw is covered in hair a shade darker than his golden locks. He makes devil-may-care disheveled sexy as hell. He’s dangerous and alluring. Of course he has to look amazing.

Lying to him didn’t work, so I try the truth. “I needed something.”

“From Monte?” He takes a long pull of his beer, unfazed.