Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(124)
“Maybe. Bigoted, white male dumbasses. They probably don’t see anything wrong with his behavior.”
“You know, you might be right.” Holt frowned. “They might not be inclined to rock the boat—or admit they’re at fault—without some incentive.”
“Incentive? Hmm.” She sat up straight. “What if we found a lawyer to educate them that they could be sued or liable or…”
Holt considered. “Yes, that’ll work. It will be the perfect one-two punch.”
“What will?”
“Threatening their reps and pocketbooks. You’re brilliant.” Holt kissed her.
She pulled back. “Good to hear, but, Holt, I don’t know anyone the school board would listen to.”
“You do. But leave it to me, pet. I got this.” The lines around his eyes crinkled. “So, little girl, did you finish your homework? Is the scene in our book done?”
It wasn’t. “You are being so…”
When he lifted his chin slightly, in what Gabi had titled “the Dom look”, her stomach dropped.
Suddenly she could feel how her breasts rubbed on his hard chest, and the heat of his powerful hand on her waist. “I…”
“Go finish that chapter you’re working on before you get in trouble with your editor. I’ll make a few calls. Trust me, Josie.”
When he gave her that level steady look, she knew she’d trust him wherever he led her. “I do trust you.”
“Ah, for that you’ve earned a reward,” he said softly. “I’ll make sure you receive it tonight.”
Now all her girl bits were tingling.
Leaning down, she brushed his lips and headed for her office. Her deadline was looming, and she had a chapter to finish.
And maybe when Tigre stepped in front of one of the reptilian Grestors to save Laurent, she’d let the pretty fire-starter bind up his wound and give him that kiss the two had wanted since the beginning of the book. Josie knew Tigre would be there for Laurent no matter how bad things got.
Because Tigre was just like Holt.
Chapter Thirty-One
The middle school’s small conference room was air-conditioned to a polar ice cap’s temperature. Between the chill and her nerves, Josie was shivering.
She wasn’t the only one scared. In the rear of the room, Carson, Yukio, Juan, and Ryan sat in a fearful cluster. Josie and the other parents were seated around the rectangular table. Last night, they’d had a conference call about what recourse they had if the administration decided to be harsh.
Despite trying to look calm, Josie felt her teeth clenching with her frustration. Things were not going well. The science teacher was blatantly targeting Carson and his friends with his venom. Every time she’d talked with the principal about it, he’d blown her off. Sadly, the school board was listening to him.
The door opened. His face jowled like a bloodhound, the principal, Mr. Purcell, walked across the room and took a seat at the head of the rectangular table.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” When he shook his head, her hand itched to slap the phony expression of concern off his face. “I’m afraid the school board has decided—”
The door opened again.
Josie stared as Master Z strolled in. He wore a white shirt and tie…and the materials and tailoring were as exquisite as that of his usual black club attire.
After him came Gabi in a conservative beige dress and dark brown blazer, then her husband, Marcus, in an impeccably tailored dark gray suit.
Entering last, Holt took a position against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.
The principal rose to his feet. “Excuse me, but this is a private meeting. If you wish to speak with me, please talk with my secretary and—”
“I believe we have the correct room,” Master Z said. “I’m Dr. Zachary Grayson, a psycho-logist…special-izing in children.”
Purcell shifted his weight uneasily. “Dr. Grayson, I know of you, of course. Your research is well respected in academic circles.”
“That’s good to hear,” Z said smoothly and turned. “I’d like to introduce Gabrielle Renard, an FBI Victim Specialist, and Marcus Atherton, one of our state attorneys.”
The principal’s color faded slightly.
Carson slipped over to kneel beside Josie and surreptitiously slipped his hand into hers. “What’s going on?” he whispered.
She bent and whispered with only a breath of sound, “Something Holt arranged to go with the video we made.”
“Holt did this? Oh, man, the principal is screwed.” The hope and confidence in Carson’s voice lifted Josie’s heart.
As her boy slipped back to his friends, Josie turned to Holt and mouthed thank you.
He winked.
Purcell resumed his seat as if establishing his territory. “Why are you here?”
Rather than taking a seat, Master Z leaned a hip against the low bookshelf to the right of Purcell. Josie almost laughed. Owning his space—and standing. Had he learned the tricks of taking control from being a psychologist or being a Dom?
Master Z answered, his tone even. “The school has received numerous complaints about a teacher, Mr. Jorgeson, but ignored them with the excuse that the reports came from students.”