Furore (The Night Skulls MC #1)(13)

“Yes, Tirone Wisely. What a waste. He was brilliant. I couldn’t believe he just dropped out.”

“Me neither.” Despite the risk, I’d driven to his place and even rung the bell. If either of his parents had opened the door, I could have just said I was there to see why he hadn’t showed up at school, and that I’d been concerned about his future as a good, caring teacher.

But no one was there. The house was empty. There were rumors that he skipped town with his family after someone had broken into their house. If that was true, why didn’t he call me or return my calls, at least, to let me know he was okay? I’d been worried sick. And how was such incident a reason to drop out of school right before his exams? He could have easily asked to be tested online from the safety of his new home. Something else happened, and I couldn’t help thinking I had a hand in it.

Guilt raptured through me all day, as it had all year, and more guilt followed me into the next week when my loneliness at night had made me resort to yet another forbidden deed. That first night I came hard to Furore wasn’t the last. Every time I touched myself, thinking about Ty, the only man that had ever touched me, the only man that captivated my heart and never let go, I ended up seeing Furore’s eyes, hearing him whispering my name, commanding me to come for him, and my body obeyed. As if I could no longer get wet except for tattooed, dark green-eyed students of mine. Ones that made me fear them as much as I’d been attracted to them.

At San Quentin, I waited behind my desk in the classroom for the inmates to arrive, sweating on an uncharacteristically cool summer afternoon for no good reason except my fear of being exposed. For what I’d been doing every night for the past week—as if Furore would take one look at me and know. And for whom I really was.

Our uncomfortable exchange last week hadn’t gone unforgotten. He was a criminal with a piece of information, though simple, he shouldn’t have had access to. Who knew how he’d intended to use it against me? Blackmail? Coercion? And to whose favor?

Then there was the matter of his son. I was curious to know the story behind him. Perhaps when I knew, I’d unravel a secret of Furore’s myself, and we’d both have equal leverage against each other.

That was why today, even though he’d pushed past the other inmates, sat in his desk without saying a word, not even a simple greeting, and buried his nose in his notebook, ignoring my presence as if I was insignificant, the next assignment would force him out of his disrespectful silence.





CHAPTER 7


Jo



“In no less than fifty words, I’d like you to revisit your first assignment. Do you remember that one?” I stood at the back of the class for the announcement, where the guard was, preparing for the worst.

“The swearing thing?” Laniakea guessed.

“No,” I chuckled.

“Damn. The why you’re here assignment?”

“We all know why you’re here. You stole a goddamn TV,” Ren Sanchez said. “Ain’t you learn fucking nothing from Shawshank, man?”

Laughter hummed in the classroom. While I enjoyed the banter, I didn’t appreciate bad grammar or ignoring my rules. “Haven’t you learned anything from this class, Ren? And remember what I said about swearing?”

“Sorry, Miss M. I shall write it down in the most creative way to the best of my abilities.” He snickered.

“Apology accepted.” I ignored the mockery to the best of my abilities. It came with an eye roll, though. “Now back to the assignment. Yes, it is the one where I told you to write your ultimate goal you hoped to achieve by enrolling in this class.” Which Furore had dodged with his bravado and intimidating tactics. “Now, write down how after four weeks of education you’re getting closer to your goal. The skills you’ve truly learned, the difference you can feel, the measures you’ll take to be better and achieve your goal, and most importantly,” my gaze drifted to the back of Furore’s head involuntarily, “what truly motivates you to keep going.”

Heads tilted toward me, but my focus was with the one that didn’t turn.

Say something. Challenge me. Smirk at me. Warn me with a stare. Throw a tantrum. Anything.

Without so much of a pause, Furore was the first to open his notebook and start writing.

“All right. You have fifteen minutes. Any questions, I’m right here.” My lips twisted with inexplicable irritation. The whole point of the assignment was to get him to write. To spill his secrets about his son and how my class was going to help with whatever his real goal was. To get leverage. Why was I angry? Why did it bother me that he was ignoring me? Why would I be irritated if a student stopped provoking me and started working on his tasks? Because that was what Laius Lazzarini was. A student. No matter how hard it was for me to ignore the intoxicating dominant presence of the man who had been driving me crazy for days, I must not see him in any other way.

“Miss Meneceo, a word please,” the guard said.

I rolled my eyes over to him. He’d never spoken to me before other than to emphasize security instructions. Now, he had something to say me? Could he not see I’d sharpened my emotional and intellectual claws, and it was all for nothing? I was in the middle of a psychological war game I had to win. What could be so important? “Yes…” I realized I didn’t even know his name.