Page 72 of Disciplinary Action
Cal got himself up, running after both of them, leaving his pump and monitor behind in the dirt. He tried to close the distance but they both had too good of a head start. Cal’s heart rate shot up as Matteo made it out of the lot, past the sidewalk and into the street.
“Alexa!” Cal screamed, but she wasn’t listening. She was growling and barking, hot on Matteo’s heels, determined to catch her prey. Matteo made it to the other side of the street, but Alexa followed straight into the path of an oncoming car.
“No!”
Tires screeched as the driver slammed on his breaks, the smell of rubber burning Cal’s nostrils, but it was too late. Cal’s stomach lurched at the thud Alexa’s body made as it hit the grill of the car and tumbled through the street, landing in a heap at Cal’s feet.
All thoughts of Matteo and the injuries he’d inflicted disappeared as Cal gathered Alexa into his arms. He gave a sob of relief as she gazed up at him in confusion. She was alive. Alive but hurt. Blood ran from her nose just as it did from his.
The man who hit her suddenly crouched down beside him. “I’m so sorry. She just came out of nowhere.”
“I know. I… I need to get her to a hospital.”
The guy was dressed in a suit and tie, like he was on his way to work, but he shoved a hand through his hair and glanced at his BMW idling in the street. “Fuck it. I’ll give you a ride. Do you know where there’s an animal clinic?”
Desmond. “Yeah. Actually, I do.”
Cal climbed into the backseat of the stranger’s car, Alexa’s head cradled in his lap. Her breathing was labored, but she didn’t cry. Something about that made it all seem so much worse. Cal pulled his phone free and called Des, leaving him a message to let him know they were on the way. He didn’t call Gideon. He was in that meeting. He’d call once they were at the hospital, just so Gideon didn’t worry.
Cal stroked Alexa’s silky head, using his shirt to clean the blood from her fur. “Please don’t die on me. Please.”
“How could you be so reckless?” Foy asked. “I sent you there because I figured you were the least likely to embarrass me, and then you go and sleep with a student? A high school student. This is a PR nightmare.”
Gideon sat on a worn leather sofa in Dean Neal Dover’s plush oversized office. Dover and Foy both sat in ugly leather chairs with hammered nail accents. Dover had a strange addiction to heavy wood and brown leather furniture that made Gideon feel borderline claustrophobic. There was barely any light streaming through the wood blinds, just enough for him to watch dust particles dance in the beams of sunshine.
Dover looked like every college administrator Gideon had ever met. He was average height, soft around the middle, and had a fondness for jackets with elbow patches. He also had a long white beard and wire rimmed spectacles that made him look like a cross between Freud and Santa Claus. Foy was well into his sixties but could have passed for half that. He was small in both stature and weight. He had thinning black hair and dark brown eyes and spoke loudly, like he was trying to make up for his lack of physical presence.
He’d been listening to Dover and Foy for over forty minutes as they took turns chastising him for his ‘error in judgment.’ He didn’t react. He didn’t do anything. Honestly, he’d spent most of the time tuning them out, and the less he spoke, the more they tended to repeat themselves. He finally broke down and said, “In my defense, I was sleeping with the student before you asked me to be the school’s interim headmaster. Also, I didn’t know he was in high school since he was a nineteen-year-old sex worker when we met.”
Foy’s face turned an unsettling shade of red as he stumbled over whatever it was he’d been planning to say.
Dover, however, finally got to the point of their little meeting. “I’m afraid you’ve left us no other choice but to let you go,” he said, clearly irritated with Gideon’s blasé attitude.
Gideon had considered letting them go on a little longer, but he figured the guys parked in the van on the street listening to their conversation had probably had enough. Gideon sighed. He supposed there was no better segue way than that. “Oh, you’ll let me go, alright, but you won’t be firing me. In fact, I need the both of you to write me a letter talking about my outstanding character and teaching skills as well as my numerous publications and all the achievements and accolades I’ve brought to the department and the school as a whole.” They both gaped at him, but Gideon wasn’t done yet. “Then you, Neal, are going to call Boston College and tell them that one of your best professors is looking for a job out that way and you really think I’d be a great fit for their psych department.”
Dover laughed, but Foy scoffed, shaking his head, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You’re a little young to be having a midlife crisis, Leo. Is this some kind of nervous breakdown? Delayed grief response? I know things have been hard since you lost Grant—”
Gideon held up a hand. “I’m going to stop you right there. I know Roger called you and asked you to fire me, not because of my relationship with a fully consenting adult but because his grandson is pissed about missing out on Harvard and thinks Callum had something to do with it. However, Roger doesn’t realize that I know all of your dirty little secrets.”
Dover and Foy exchanged glances. “What?” Foy asked, nervously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how you allow students to cheat their way into this school. I’m talking about how you’ve taken millions of dollars in bribes from some of the wealthiest and well-known people in the country. My husband kept meticulous notes. While it’s true he died years ago, I’m sure the feds would be quite interested in what I have to show them, especially when coupled with all the information I managed to gather while at Roosevelt. I found the last six weeks very…enlightening.”
“Listen, whatever you think you know…” Foy blustered.
“Believe me when I say I know everything. This isn’t me bluffing. To be honest, I don’t really care about your little scheme. The rich have been buying their kids’ way into fancy schools for centuries. I just want out of here before your little house of cards collapses. So, you can either take the deal and get me that interview with Boston College, or I’ll walk out of here and make a phone call to the FBI and the Department of Justice and let them fight over who gets to take you down.”
Silence stretched as Gideon watched the two men attempt to communicate without uttering a word. He would have found it amusing if there wasn’t someplace else he’d rather be.
Finally, Foy sighed, his entire demeanor changing. “Without admitting any blame, I’m sure we can make Boston happen. It will be a shame to lose such a wonderful professor, but if you feel your skills are better utilized there, who are we to stand in your way?”
Dover nodded as if what Foy said was some wise proverb. “Yes. Yes. Foy is right. If you feel you belong in Boston, let us make that happen for you.”
“I have no intention of leaving until you do,” Gideon said, a cold smile spreading across his face.
“Right. Right,” Dover said, jumping from his seat to return to his desk.
Gideon turned to Foy. “Why didn’t you just invite me into the loop? Did my husband tell you to keep me out of it? I’m assuming he’s the reason I even got this job in the first place.”
