Page 19 of Bombshell

There it is: the Dean’s queasy expression, the weasel-faced Welles triumph. Taking my scholarship was all they had to do to get rid of me. They’ve taken out the trash.

“You’ve overcome a lot in your life,” he continues. “And I’m sorry it sounds like you don’t want your future to be at Valmont, for whatever it’s worth.”

“Jack shit, that’s what.” I glare at the two men in front of me, daring them to look me in the eye.

Of course, they don’t.

The Dean mumbles something about luck and opportunities in strange places. Welles is already messaging someone on his phone. I can practically see the puppet strings dictating their every movement. There’s no point to fighting them on this. Because there’s only one person who needs to answer for what just happened: Angus MacLaine. His fingerprints are all over this. Apparently, I scared him more than I thought.

I throw open the Dean’s office doors, surprised to find two members of the Valmont University Police standing there. They’ve been chatting with the secretary from before, and when they all see me, one of the officers steps between me and her, and the other reaches for the spot on his waist where his handcuffs rest.

“Officers,” the Dean says, coming up behind me. “I don’t think that’s necessary after all, Daniel. Mr. Ford isn’t going to do anything rash, is he?”

The officer with the cuffs gets a disappointed look, but backs off a couple steps. The other cop realizes he’s blocking my departure, and ducks into one of the cubicles. I realize two things: first, these are probably the cops who investigated me on behalf of the Dean, and second, these people heard about what I did to the desk during my argument with Angus MacLaine. It’s the only thing that explains their reactions. That’s the thing about reputations. People never give you room to do anything but live up to them. Or, in my case, down to them.

“I’d better get going,” I announce. “Since, I suspect you all need to gather up the spare change falling out of Angus MacLaine’s pockets.”

No one replies, which is answer enough.

Would Adair mind if I killed her father? Since leaving the Dean’s office, I’ve asked myself a dozen crazy questions. What is the waiting period like in Tennessee for purchasing a gun? How will I tell Francie? What would Angus MacLaine’s neck feel like in my bare fucking hands? Is he at Windfall now? Am I about to find out?

“You alright, man?” Cyrus cuts into my thoughts, glancing nervously at me from behind the wheel of his car.

We’re headed to Windfall, and I honestly have no idea what I’m going to do when we get there. If I had told Cyrus what happened at the Dean’s office, there’s no way he’d be taking me to Windfall now. I’d feel guilty about it if he hadn’t already betrayed me. If the Dean told the truth—and he had no reason to lie—then Cyrus was questioned by someone about my behavior. He never said anything to me about it, which gives me a pretty strong indication whose side of the fence he’ll come down on in the end. He might not have given them anything to use against me, but when push comes to shove, he’ll bend over backwards to let Angus MacLaine have his way, just like everyone else in this fucking town.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I say with a shrug.

“You’re just...brooding a lot,” he says. “More than usual, I mean.”

So now I fucking brood?

“I think the situation with Adair is worse than I realized,” I say.

That’s the understatement of the year.

“Do you think her dad’s putting pressure on her?” Cyrus wonders.

“You’d know better than me.”

“Angus MacLaine doesn’t ask. He demands. Once.”

“And if he doesn’t get his way?”

“Look, I shouldn’t talk shit about anyone—”

“Just fucking tell me, already,” I say, my temper slipping.

“Alright, shit,” Cyrus says, turning off the satellite radio. “I’ve heard rumors, that’s all. He’s got an army of private investigators and a media empire. Everyone’s got secrets to hide, you know? He scares the shit out of people.”

“He doesn’t scare me,” I say truthfully. Angus has already done his worst, so what’s the point fearing him?

“He should scare you. If a tenth of what I’ve heard is true…”

“Having second thoughts about taking me to Windfall?” I say as Cy pulls up to the security gate.

“Too late now,” he says just before lowering his window to speak with the guard. “Cyrus Eaton. I should be on Adair MacLaine’s list.”

Of course, he’s on her list. I wonder for a moment if I am—if it’s even her list or if her dad gets final approval.