The Damaged (The Insiders Trilogy #2) - Tijan by Tijan

I only saw the crowd. They were different students this time. I knew I had to deal with it and adjust and get on with my life, because that’s just how it was going to be. With that intent, I tried to go forward again, and because of that, I wasn’t fully paying attention to what Erik was paying attention to.

I missed the train of SUVs pulling up.

And what was more important, I missed how Fitz was standing outside, and how he wasn’t going toward the SUVs.

I didn’t see how both Fitz and Erik had set expressions on their faces. Their jaws were clenched and their eyes weren’t happy.

But what I didn’t miss was how I recognized that black sports car sliding into the very last spot in front of the building. I was happy and thinking Kash was a liar. He did have time for a drop-by. But then he was out of his car and he wasn’t coming to me. He was veering to head off whoever had gotten out of the back of the middle SUV and was heading for the building.

Calhoun Bastian.

My stomach fell once again, and ice pierced my chest.

I was having a bad case of the déjà vus.





SEVENTEEN


This day couldn’t get worse.

Or at least that’s what I thought, until I saw Kash’s scary grandfather exit his vehicle, making a beeline for my building. He looked so dignified, too, almost like a diplomat, and he was getting the attention to warrant that impression. Like this morning, I saw Goa and Busich, but unlike this morning, Wells wasn’t there. She was replaced by a bunch of other official-looking older people. That’s when I clued in on the students. The sorority and jock groups weren’t there. They were replaced by more serious-looking students, ones wearing pin-striped suits and dress shirts, or dress skirts and high heels in a nude coloring, so you’re still edgy but it’s not really edgy.

Calhoun never saw Kash.

It was one of those surreal moments, where you can’t believe you’re watching it but you are, because it’s happening in front of you. It’s one of those moments I’d always remember, and not because of my memory but just because it was that awesome.

Maybe this déjà vu case wasn’t so bad.

Calhoun was looking toward the Hawking staff.

He had this pompous look on his face, straightening his suit jacket as he started for them. He got only a step, but they took the signal and approached. He stopped, his head up, his nostrils going wide as he was breathing this in, and an arrogant smirk was on his face. He was expecting them to come to him, and so he was going to wait and watch them, as if they were beneath him.

Seriously. So narcissistic.

He never took in the crowd. Not once. The way he was at ease with them there, this clearly was something else he was expecting.

He thought they were there for him. To his credit, maybe they were. Maybe the staff rounded them up because the groups were different than the ones congregating earlier this morning, but Kash was cutting right through the crowd, the staff, and going straight to his grandfather.

His face was granite. His eyes hard. His jaw clenched.

He was seething, but he didn’t give his grandfather attention.

I thought that’s what he was going to do. He didn’t. That made it even more awesome, because he cut in. His grandfather’s security never stopped him. I didn’t know why that was, but only one saw him coming, and his face twitched. His hand dropped to his side, but after a second’s hesitation he moved it back in front. He shifted, his face going forward so he, too, wasn’t seeing Kash coming.

Then Kash was there, his back to his grandfather, and he was speaking in low tones to the Hawking staff.

To their credit, they didn’t look like they wanted to be there. Their faces were reluctant, wary, but resigned at the same time. Seeing Kash suddenly in front of them, his eyes locked on them, they sucked in their breaths.

Then they leaned in.

They were listening to whatever Kash was saying. So was Calhoun, whose face was storming up. It was twisting, and rage was showing—steam could’ve been coming out of every hole on his face. He opened his mouth, his hand raising, but even with his back to him, Kash knew his grandfather’s move. He shifted an inch to the side, effectively cutting him out, and he was still speaking. Low. Calm. Contained.

The staff’s heads jerked back when he was done. Their eyes cut to Calhoun, to Kash, and then back again to Calhoun.

Kash spoke, and this time I heard, “You decide now, or I walk. Peter Francis walks. Bailey Hayes walks.”

The threats impacted them. One swallowed tightly. Another one looked terrified, her hand shaking at her side. But the head guy, the one in the lead, he was more together, and he looked at Calhoun, extending his hand. His voice boomed out, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Bastian, but as you can see, your business is no longer welcome at Hawking University.”

Just like that.

Just. Like. That!

He was out.

The crowd hushed, and a surge of volume ripped through everyone, even though most didn’t know what had happened. They just knew something happened, something big.

Calhoun Bastian was rooted in place.

His fury was clear on his face. The lines around his mouth were white, and he slapped the university staff member’s hand away. He grabbed for Kash—or he would have. His hand was going up. Kash turned, as if he was expecting it, but he wasn’t the one who stopped Calhoun. It was the security guard who had seen Kash coming. He moved in and merely stood between grandfather and grandson. He folded his hands together, the same Secret Service stance. Then he spoke, a low baritone, but one with patience. “You should remove yourself from these premises, Mr. Bastian.” He paused a beat. “For your safety, sir.”