Ruthless Heart Page 18

  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 had a tendency 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 you. I had mastered it slightly better 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, 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 had allegedly scratched 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 vandalised 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, travelling 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.”

  “There’s no medical record of it.”

  “Should you be looking at my confidential medical records?” I asked him as my head tilted to the side.

  “I am your dean.”

  “You are, but you’re not my doctor,” I countered back at him.

  We sat in silence for a long, drawn-out moment as he tried to think of a reason to be looking at my medical records, and I sat smugly, knowing he’d already fucked himself and whatever bullshit reason I was here for.

  “If you admit to the crime, I will not penalise you.” He started to talk again, and I covered my snort with a fake cough.

  “What crime are we talking about?” I asked casually as I watched him. For being a bald man, he had the bushiest eyebrows I’d ever seen. Did he know what hair trimmers were?

  “Vandalising school property.”

  “Who did?” I asked him with wide eyes.

  “Don’t mess me about, son,” he snapped.

  “See, I’m not your son,” I reminded him. “I’m Kerr Santo’s son, and Kerr Santo and my uncle, Kage Santo, are actually sons of the sons of the sons.” I paused and pretended to count on my fingers. “Great-great-granddad, great granddad, granddad, dad, and me, so...sons of the sons of the sons, yeah, anyway, my family built this college.”

  “I know who your ancestors are,” Dean Porter snapped.

  “Okay, I wasn’t sure.” I grinned.

  “I also recall you and your brother adamantly swearing you were good enough to get in here on your own merit without using your family connections,” he said to me with scorn.

  “I have a four point oh average, and Gray has a three point nine. The school’s admission policy is three point seven. Our merit is just fine.” This was bullshit. “Why am I in here?”

  “You drew graffiti on school property.”

  “My dad’s building, you mean?” I just wanted to fuck with him now.

  “I’m warning you,” he said as he leaned forward angrily.

  “I didn’t do shit,” I retorted. “Even if I did, there’s fuck all you can do about it.” Standing, I looked down at him. “Get proof next time before you try and pull this shit.” Striding to the door, I looked over my shoulder. “Have a good afternoon, sir.”

  I closed the door more forcefully than I should have and was leaving the office when I saw her sitting there, looking small and timid. Ava wasn’t small or timid. Why was she here?

  “Why are you here?” I asked across the office floor.

  Seeing me, her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Not sure. You?”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Tried to blame you for the chairs or the tag?” Ava looked at me knowingly.

  I huffed in derision. “Both, I think.” I shrugged carelessly.

  “But you were seen last night,” Ava said with a sly smile. “At a bar and then a party.” She nodded in admiration. “Alibi. Clever.”

  “Or we could just be innocent?” I said as I raised my hands in front of me.

  Ava’s head tilted to the side as she looked at me. “I don’t think you’re capable of knowing the word.”

  My tongue ran over my teeth as I looked away from her. I recalled the sweet taste of her pussy on my fingers, and looking back at her, I watched as her cheeks flushed. “Maybe not,” I murmured. Without another word, I left her sitting there.

  Outside, I texted the group chat.

  Me: Which one of you told the dean Ava’s earning?

  Gray: Anonymous tip

  Me: From who?

  Gray: A concerned contributor to the school scholarship program

  Ash: Dad?

  Me: She’s in the dean’s office now

  Gray: You’re stalking her?

  Ash: Thought you had better game

  Me: Fucker pulled me in and tried to pin last night on me

  Gray: What’d you say?

  Me: Reminded him he needed evidence

  Ash: Way to smooth things over

  Me: Remember their WR just came back from a knee injury, tell Jamie to target him. Their LBs are brick shithouses, you need to be fast off the line

  Gray: Yes coach

  With a grin, I headed down the steps from the main admin building. Curiosity got the better of me though, and I lingered to see what Ava would be like when she came out. Would he kick her out? He might, he was a dick. I’d wanted her gone, and now that it was within reach, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

  Ten minutes later, Ava came almost running out of the building. I wasn’t sure if she was running because she’d just been asked to leave or because she hadn’t and was putting as much distance between herself and the dean in case he changed his mind.

  She paused once to scramble in her purse, and then she was on her cell, walking swiftly again. I considered following her, but Gray was right, stalking wasn’t my thing, and really if she left, she left. That had been the plan.

  My own cell rang, and I grinned at the caller.

  “Hey, dad,” I greeted my father as I headed to my afternoon class.

  “The dean called me this morning, something about my sons and nephew being stupid little pricks,” he told me, his voice rich with humour.

  I laughed out loud. “Did he actually say that?”

  “No, the bastard wouldn’t dare.” My dad sounded relaxed. I wasn’t conc
erned about this call. “Mayhem?”

  “Yeah, thought it was time for a reminder.”

  “Sounds more like a harmless prank than mayhem,” dad said to me.

  “That what you told Porter?” I asked him. “A harmless prank?”

  “No, I asked him what proof he had.” I heard my dad sigh. “Graffiti?”

  “That actually wasn’t us,” I told him truthfully.

  “But you know who?” Dad asked me knowingly.

  “Of course.”

  “Okay, make sure your loose ends are tied,” he reminded me. “The board can’t ignore hard facts.”

  “Got it covered, dad.”

  “I know, son, just making sure. So…” He hesitated. “Why aren’t you in Missouri?”

  “Injury.”

  “You’re benched, you mean, why?” Kerr Santo was easier going than his brother, but he was still a hard ass.

  “Long story,” I answered.

  “Make it a short one,” he countered, and I smiled in the afternoon sun. I missed my dad sometimes.

  “Not a conversation for the phone, dad,” I told him.

  “Excellent, your mother misses you. Get your ass home for dinner. You can tell me all about it then.”

  “Dad…”

  “Jett?”

  There was no point arguing. “I’ll see you at seven.”

  “Make it six so we can talk while mom’s in the kitchen pretending to cook.”

  I laughed again. My mom seriously couldn’t boil water. All our meals were prepared by our cook, but mom could plate like a Michelin star chef, and she took great pride in presenting us restaurant-quality-looking plates of food, whereas our cook actually made us restaurant quality food.

  “She’ll have your balls if she hears you,” I warned him.

  “Woman’s had my balls from the day I met her,” dad grunted.

  “Too much, dad.” I grinned. “See you at six. Is Onyx home?”

  “Yeah, fucking furious about…who knows what. He refuses to talk about it, another reason you can come home and calm your erratic older brother down.”

  “Fun times with the family,” I teased before we said goodbye, and I turned direction. Instead of heading to class, I went back to the dorm house. I needed to fix some things before the three-and-a-half-hour drive home. I opened my messages to the chat just between Gray and me.

  Me: Dad’s summoned me home

  Gray: Told you he would

  Me: 100% truth or fudge?

  Gray: Bro’s home too, go for the 100, Onyx will sniff the lie out

  Me: Fine

  Gray: You got this

  Me: Onyx is going to bust my balls

  Gray: Bust his head?

  Me: Sound advice, dickhead

  Gray sent me the one finger emoji back, and I laughed again as I put the phone away. Our older brother was intense. In a good way to us, but to everyone else, he was just fucking brutal. But Gray was right, he would smell a lie on me before I even walked into the house. I thought about it. I needed a distraction, and then I pulled the phone out of my back pocket again.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Dad wants a family supper, you up for a drive home?” I waited until Quinn answered. “Yeah, be outside in thirty minutes. Oh and, Quinn, Onyx is home.” I heard her hesitate, and then she said she’d be ready.

  When I picked her up outside her dorm, she greeted me with a warm smile as she placed her overnight bag in the back seat of the car.

  “You’re such a pretentious prick with this car,” she said as she got into the front seat.

  “It’s an R8, it’s cool.”

  “It is, you’re still a prick.”

  I grinned at her. “You already anxious about seeing your number one fan?”

  “You know he hates me because of Ash.” Quinn rolled her eyes. “But I told dad you were driving me home and mentioned that your mom would want to see me, so he’s coming too. At least dad will keep him on a leash.”

  “Nice, should be fun.” I looked over at her. “You tell my mom to expect them?”

  “Obviously, I told Sable.” She glanced at me. “Kerr realise you should be in Missouri?” Quinn asked as she slipped her sunglasses on.

  “Yeah, and Dean Prick hauled me into his office,” I told her.

  “For mayhem?” she asked, and I nodded. “It was hardly worth a visit to his office; it was more inconvenience than mayhem.”

  “That’s what dad said.”

  “You boys losing your touch?” she teased me as I drove.

  “Warm-up act, Queeny, you know better.”

  Her laugh was light in the car as she leaned forward to switch the music on. “I’m feeling the nineties vibe. Eddie or Kurt?”

  “Hmm, both?” I suggested. “Start with Kurt.”

  “Come as You Are” flooded the car, and I felt myself relax as Quinn started to sing along to the lyrics.

  As we drove off campus, I thought about what to say to my dad and brother about Ava. Dad would want me to forget about it and would call Coach to make the problem go away. Onyx would agree, but he would want me to make her suffer a little. I smiled to myself.

  I really hoped the dean hadn’t kicked her out. I wasn’t finished with Ava Bryant yet.

  Dinner had been good. Dad, Onyx and I had a boys catch up while mom prepared the table. We had staff for that, but she liked to set the table, especially when she had guests coming.

  Onyx had met my innocent stare with a knowing look when I showed up telling them I had dropped Quinn off first and the Lawrences would be over for dinner. Mom knew, but it seemed she had kept her older son in the dark. His animosity towards Quinn wasn’t hidden, and he would have found a reason to bail had he been warned.

  As I now sat outside Coach’s office on Monday morning before practice, I thought back to the conversation with my dad and older brother.

  “Why are you benched?” dad asked me as soon as the door to his study was closed.

  “Failed a drug test,” I told him, and when his mouth fell open in surprise, I shared a look with my older brother. “We think I drank a bottle of water with a drug called Versed in it. It’s used mostly as an anaesthetic. I actually have no idea why anyone would take it recreationally.”

  “You think?” Onyx asked from his chair.

  “One of the effects is memory loss. I have no recollection of the evening. I woke up the next day with no memory of the night before, of what I drank, or who gave it to me.” I saw the fury on my father’s face. “I didn’t know I had taken it. I took some painkillers before the game that morning for what I thought was a hangover, and the water was the same one with the drug, so I failed the random drug test.”

  “Water? You drank spiked water?” my dad asked me as he began to pace. “Was it opened before you drank it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And Coach Bowers?”

  “Doesn’t believe me,” I answered. “Well, he believes me kind of. I have two weeks to prove I got my drink spiked.”

  “If you don’t remember, how are you supposed to prove this?” Dad demanded angrily.

  “I assume you didn’t sleep alone?” Onyx asked me with a smirk.

  “You would assume right.”

  “The girl’s connected?” my dad asked.

  “Only just found out who she was. I don’t remember much about her either.”

  “Have you asked her?” Dad looked frustrated.

  “Not directly.”

  “Playing with your food, little brother?” Onyx took a sip of his whisky as he watched me.

  “A little,” I admitted.

  “Women aren’t playthings,” dad grumbled as he sat in his chair. He missed the look between my brother and me, which begged to differ with dad’s view. “I’ll call Bowers. This is bullshit.”

  “I can handle this, dad,” I told him quietly.

  “You’ve been training to get to the draft since you were three. This isn’t just an obsession, Jett, it’s your passion. One that I am happy to su
pport, and I will not allow some girl and a bottle of fucking water to jeopardise that.”

  “I’m not sure she’s connected,” I told him. What the fuck?

  “I suggest you find out,” Onyx said dryly. “Pussy’s pussy. There’s always another tight one to fill.”

  “Onyx,” my dad protested weakly. “We raised you better than that.”

  Onyx winked at me as he took another drink of his whisky, and I schooled my expression so dad didn’t see my answering grin.

  “Jett,” my dad said, giving me his full attention. “Find out who did this, do whatever you think is best to deal with it, but I will speak to Bowers and get this bullshit benching lifted. I will make sure that there is no record of this anywhere.”

  “Careful, dad.” Onyx leaned back in his seat as he appraised our father. “Sounds like you’re willing to step in and alter school records.”

  My dad levelled him with a hard stare. “When it is merited, I will protect my son’s future,” he told him angrily. “Any of my sons. Even when it isn’t merited, I would do what is necessary.”

  Onyx dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement of his past fuck up, which dad fixed then too.

  “Jett?” my dad asked me.

  “Yeah, thank you, I need to play.” I looked between the two of them. “It’s all I want.” Being this open and vulnerable wasn’t something that came easily, and I saw them both acknowledge my honesty. “I will find out who did this though,” I promised them, and I saw the gleam in my older brother’s eyes as he saluted me with his drink.

  “Santo!” Coach called, and I went into his office, closing the door behind me. “Your father called me in the middle of my Sunday barbeque.”

  “He wasn’t happy with my benching,” I told him as I sat down.

  Coach Bowers considered me for a long moment. “Coaching is hard,” he began, and I kept my opinion about his large salary to myself. “There are eighty-five men on my roster. Do you know the most important thing a coach can have from his team?”

  “Respect.”