Stoking the Fire (Salus Security #1) - Teodora Kostova Page 0,22
the chair. “Now, if you form an orderly line, I’ll listen to everyone and book as many people as the professor’s schedule allows.” People frown but don’t argue. “The planner closes the moment you start annoying me again.” I point at the notebook on the desk.
That seems to do the trick. They aren’t happy about it, murmuring and whispering among themselves as they shuffle away to line up in front of the desk, casting me deadly glares over their shoulders, as if they are still in high school, not college.
I couldn’t care less. I’m used to people talking behind my back and disliking me based on the shit the gossip columns and trashy social media accounts publish about me and my family.
What I do care about is wrapping this up as quickly as possible. I have a hot date with a cup of strong coffee and several hefty library books after.
The first sip of coffee is always the best. I close my eyes as I swallow, clutching the travel mug with both hands as if my sanity depends on it. Eyeing the stack of books over the rim of the mug, I exhale loudly and start mentally preparing for a long afternoon of research. The library is nearly deserted on a Friday afternoon, so I have a whole desk to myself. Thank god for small miracles.
Another sip of coffee and I’m ready to get to work. I pull the book on top toward me and stare at the title: Postmodernism and Beyond by Professor Armen McGrath. I smile. Seeing the professor’s name always makes me think of my best friend Adrian and his hero worship. The professor is one of the best writers, analytical minds, and, currently, investigative journalists in the world. He’s also teaching here, in St. John’s University in Queens, and that was a major factor when I was choosing the university for my PhD program. Seeing the look on Adri’s face when I’d told him was a welcome bonus.
My phone vibrates in my pocket just as I’m opening the book. I ignore it.
Scanning the table of contents of the old book, I marvel at how something written twenty years ago is still relevant today.
The phone vibrates in my pocket again. I sigh with annoyance but ignore it. Whoever it is, it can’t be that important. My sister is the only person I’ll take a call from right now, and she has her own ringtone that always goes through, even in DND mode. Evie would never call when she knows I’m at the college, though.
Distracted, I sip from my coffee and try to get into the zone again. I find the chapter I’m looking for and open the book on that page.
My phone vibrates again. I growl in frustration, but there’s no escaping the distraction anymore. With a huff I pull the phone from the pocket and glare at the screen. It’s my father. What does he want that’s so important he has to call me three times when he knows I’m busy?
I cancel the call, collect my things, and leave the library in a rush. I’m way too distracted and frustrated to work, and I need to know what’s going on. If something is wrong with Evie and I haven’t taken the call, I’ll never forgive myself.
I redial my father’s number when the library doors close silently behind me. He picks up on the first ring.
“Zach!” His voice is louder than his usual level tone, and it startles me. “Where are you? Why aren’t you answering?”
Panic starts rising in my chest. “What’s going on? Is Evie okay?”
“Yes, she’s here. She’s fine.”
Relief makes me dizzy for a moment before I manage to get a hold of myself.
“I need you to come home, right away,” my father continues. “I’ve sent Paul. The car should be waiting outside St. John’s. You’re there, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Get in the car immediately.”
“Dad—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“We’ll talk when you get here.” He hangs up.
I stare at the phone in disbelief. The rebellious side of me, the side I’d worked so hard to extinguish in the past three years, rears its ugly head. I clutch the phone, angry, annoyed, and so fucking confused.
But I get in the car.
Chapter thirteen
When I walk into my father’s home office, Evie and my mother are already there. I greet Evie first, squeezing her a little harder than is necessary. I’m just so fucking glad to see she’s okay.