“Yeah.” I nodded again as Mia opened her phone. Looking over campus, I saw Jett and Gray standing, watching the guys working the desks and chairs. Several people were calling out to them, but they remained stoic as they watched. Ash came down the steps from the law building and slung his arms over his cousins’ shoulders. I saw Jett nod, and then Ash was walking toward one of the maintenance men. I heard the guy start laughing, and then, with a high five to Ash, he and another guy disappeared into the building.
A few minutes later, they came out with the trolleys, and the work began to empty the parking lot.
When I looked over at where the Devils stood, Jett was watching me, his face blank. He slipped his shades on, and then the three of them walked toward the stadium.
“Hey, look, they found the trolleys,” Mia exclaimed as she looked up from her phone.
“They did.” Standing, I brushed off my shorts. “I have to go, you going to be okay?”
“Library?” Mia guessed with a smile.
Not this time. “Yeah.” I nodded, and with a small wave, I hurried back to the apartment. I needed to change and be more presentable. I had a bad feeling about this afternoon’s meeting. Something wasn’t sitting right with me.
Chapter 20: Jett
My leg was bouncing as I sat on the chair outside the dean’s office. The guy hated me and my family; why he took this job was beyond anyone’s understanding. Why he was offered this job was also beyond my comprehension. My dad told me it was because he needed to be the better man. My uncle told me it was because my dad was an idealist, and eventually reality would bitch-slap him if he didn’t first.
Uncle Kage was a hard bastard. I sometimes wondered how Ash was more like my dad, while I was more like my uncle. Gray was a disturbing blend of both of them.
Kage and Kerr Santo. They had been born as triplets, but the third son had died days later. Dad always said that they felt his presence, but that kind of talk freaked me out. I didn’t hold much faith in the supernatural or ghosts. Ash said it wasn’t the supernatural I had a problem with, more like empathy in general, and I tended to agree with him, not that I would ever tell him that.
Gray and Ash had boarded the team’s jet to go to Missouri about an hour ago. They would be landing soon, and here I was, sitting like a chump outside this little prick’s office. I was pissed at staying behind. However, I was running out of time to prove who had done the spiking, and being hauled in front of Dean Porter was not what I needed today.
“Santo,” the voice beckoned me as his secretary exited the office.
Getting to my feet, I walked into the office, my face carefully blank. “Dean Porter?”
“Shut the door and sit down.”
Biting my tongue, I did as instructed. When I was facing the little fuck, I sat calmly. My dad had taught us to school our emotions and never let anger rule us. I had mastered it slightlybetter than Gray, who was sometimes as explosive as they come, but still, we were adept at it and knew how to play the game.
The dean was small in height, slight of frame, bald, with thick black glasses and a crooked nose. The result of my dad, who had broken it when he punched him in his junior year of college for scratching his car. Allegedly. Dad had definitely punched him; Dennis Porter hadallegedlyscratched his brand-new Aston Martin.
Dad liked flashy things, traits my older brother picked up, but Gray and I were more . . . reserved. Slightly.
“The school was vandalized last night.”
“I heard.” I nodded.
“You heard? You didn’t see?” He leaned forward in his chair, a huge brown leather thing that swallowed him.
“What would I see?” I asked calmly.
“You didn’t see them taking hours this morning and afternoon, traveling back and forth with the desks and chairs?”
“I did.”
Dean Porter sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “Tell me why.”
I watched him watch me. “Tell you why . . . ?”
“Don’t mess with me, I’m not your coach.”
“Thank God for that,” I told him. When his eyebrows rose in surprise, I rubbed my jaw. “You’ve missed the flight to Missouri if you were Coach.”
“Why aren’t you on that flight?” he asked me shrewdly.
“Injury.”
