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I feel like all the air is being sucked out of the room. I don’t even know how I got here, how things devolved so fast. “You think I changed my results to make it appear the wetland is contaminated? I have been tracking that site for years. Anyone I have come to know in the last month has absolutely nothing to do with why I believe it should be protected.”

“Della,” the dean says. “This process exists precisely so we don’t make assumptions.”

I laugh nervously, even though I don’t mean to. It’s sharp and humorless. “First, you suggest to me that Velaro Coastal Group won’t invest in the university unless I throttle my research. Then, you give me a new contract that forces me to change my current research plans. Now, this. How very convenient.”

The dean shakes his head. “These conversations are unrelated. The report came from one of your peers.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe you. You told me there was significant institutional funding potentially contingent upon this university being seen as supportive of development. Now, someone has accused me of falsifying the exact research that could interfere with that development. I believe they are one hundred percent related, and if you proceed with this, I’ll engage a lawyer to fight your claims.”

Furrows form in DeLuca’s brows. “I would be very careful about what you’re implying.”

I feel like my world is collapsing inward.

DeLuca starts talking again about procedures and preservation of records and interviews and a review panel. I can barely think and only catch approximately one word in four of what he says.

Dean Whitaker says, "Effective immediately, you’ll be placed on administrative suspension pending the outcome of the inquiry."

I stare at him, a cauldron of rage bubbling deep in my gut. “What?”

Joan looks almost sympathetic. “You’ll obviously retain your pay and benefits, but you won’t have access to the laboratory or the research systems while the inquiry is underway.”

I hadn’t realized just how upset I had become until a small hiccup that’s almost a sob escapes me. "My samples are time sensitive."

“Mina will assume interim responsibility for the lab.”

I’m not sure I have anything left to say because there’s something uniquely horrible about hearing that your work will continue perfectly well without you. My lab. My students. My work. All of it will simply carry on with somebody else standing where I stood. Perhaps the hardest part is hearing that it’s Mina. I trusted her, which somehow makes this hurt more.

I consider what my parents would think about this: my tenure review, my grant applications, the paper, my reputation.

Research misconduct isn’t just a bad annual review. It isn’t a disagreement with a dean or a paper getting rejected or a grant not being funded. It’s an accusation that never leaves, even if you are proven to be innocent.

I simply nod at the news that Mina will take over the lab, because if I try to speak to anyone, I might cry, and I absolutely refuse to cry in this room.

The meeting ends with instructions I barely hear. They allow me a few minutes to collect personal belongings from my office, but I cannot access the lab. IT temporarily suspends my access to project files to preserve the integrity of the investigation, as though I am a threat to it. I manage to make it downstairs without crying, pass the lab without crying, and make it to my car.

Instead of driving home, I head to the only person I really want to see: Sunny.

30

SUNNY

“There are very few things in life more satisfying than watching a grown man discover he catastrophically underestimated Vandal,” Knox says, squeezing Vandal’s shoulder as he sits at the outdoor bar taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m not saying it’s better than sex, because nothing beats Daisy’s pussy,” Vandal says. “But it’s up there.”

Havoc is laughing so hard, he has to hold his ribs. “I swear to fucking God, the look on Bennett’s face when his man climbed out of the water for the second time, and Knox said that shit to Vandal about remembering to catch and release.”

We all laugh at that, although, I know we probably just woke the bear or some cheesy bullshit. I doubt Bennett is the kind of man who will take an insult like this lying down. But I doubt he’s got a rocket launcher, and we’ve already faced one of those down this year.

Plus, some of his men ran. Even when he called them back like a drill sergeant, they just kept going. Makes me think his army isn’t as reliable as he would like, and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that my brotherhood is rock solid.

“Everyone doing okay?” Reaper asks after handing another ice pack to me for the side of my face.

Tank was sent to the hospital, but everyone else made it back here.

“I’m good,” I say.

There are some grumbles about bruises. But there were no injuries that Reaper has felt compelled to stitch, splint, or amputate, which is how I personally grade any altercation. I’ve got a split lip, a bruise is blooming beneath my left eye, and I’m pretty sure the asshole in the green shirt landed something solid on my ribs before I introduced his face to my knee.