Billion Dollar Wolves: Boxset Bks 1-5

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “Oh for shit’s sake, Kami!” Devon shouted the words and for just a moment Zane almost fell over in total shock.

  There had never been a time in Zane’s life when he could recall Devon being anything but composed. The man was absolutely unflappable. He was always correct. He was politically minded, in fact, and probably could have run for mayor of Dallas if it wasn’t for the fact that he was a shifter and not entirely human in nature.

  Seeing Devon lose his mind over something was a bit more than a shock actually. It was... the word intriguing came to mind. It just wasn’t part of the usual course of events in the King family household. Who was this woman?

  “I’m not ignoring you.” Devon pointed to his desk. “I have work to do. This is my job. This company is perched on the edge of disaster. If I just hang about talking to you, then I’m going to let everything slide! I told you this. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to understand.”

  Zane cleared his throat. He waved his hand in a gesture between Kami and Devon. “So, are the two of you having a discussion about the fact that this office isn’t getting cleaned anymore? Was he just such a slob that your company decided to quit?”

  Zane thought he was funny until he found himself on the receiving end of Kami’s flat, derisive stare. It just seemed to go on and on and on. The smile slid right off of Zane’s face and for a moment he was pretty sure he was about to have the incontrovertible urge to start making excuses for himself.

  “Wow.” Zane cleared his throat and put his hand over his heart. “Girl, you’ve got game.”

  She plopped her hand on her hip as though she thought he was insulting her. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a compliment, Ms. Kami. You’ve got game. I’m telling you that you’ve got some kind of serious mojo that you can just shut people up with one glare.”

  “He’s not a slob.” Kami’s fierce defense of Devon was strange as hell. Why would she be defending someone that a second ago she seemed ready to eviscerate? “He’s distracted. He’s completely at the mercy of his familia.” Kami spat the word as though it was a dirty name to call someone.

  Devon said something in rapid Spanish that Zane could not even begin to decipher. He had some basic Spanish. The word familia for example. Family. No big deal. But beyond that, Zane did not have his brother Edward’s affinity for languages. He could not even begin to understand what Kami and Devon were now saying. But he could read their body language. He could hear their tone of voice. And that alone was speaking volumes and did not need a verbal language to understand.

  Whatever was going on in here, it had far more to do with a personal relationship gone wrong than anything else. Zane was still watching them fire back and forth in Spanish when he became aware of another person in the room.

  “What are you doing here.” Tisha Olivares-King snarled at Zane from the hallway just outside Devon’s open office door.

  Zane glanced from Devon to Kami and exhaled a sigh. Then he pointed at his brother. “You owe me.” Zane mouthed the words and then turned to go and face their dragon lady mother.

  “I’m here because I used to work here,” Zane told his mother. He stepped into the hallway and got right between her and Devon’s office door before he reached behind him and closed Devon and Kami securely within the safety of the office away from Tisha.

  “Who was in there with him?” Tisha growled. She was now trying to look past Zane as though she could see through walls.

  Zane shrugged. “He’s just having a discussion with the cleaning crew. They haven’t been doing much of a good job on his office.”

  “I told Orion to fire this company!” Tisha exploded. “I don’t like how they just loiter about all day long. It’s ridiculous.”

  Zane ground his teeth. This was going to get ugly fast. “Why are you here? You don’t work here. You don’t run the company. And you don’t even have an office.” Zane raised his eyebrows at her. “So why bother? Really. You’ll get your check no matter what you do.”

  Her shriek of outrage was so loud that it echoed back at them from the walls in the hallway and made Zane’s ears ring. He did not like this at all. But then it was going to get a lot worse before it got better, wasn’t it?

  Chapter Seven

  It was odd. No matter how much time passed or whether or not this building was the one that Landry has attended for school as a child, the administrative offices still had the same intimidation factor now as they had all those years before. At least now she could choose to stand while she waited. There were perhaps four or five sixth, seventh, and eighth graders seated in the big plastic chairs lining the walls of the main office at Washington Middle School. They all appeared to be in various stages of teen-aged growth and the subsequent rebellion, worry, and insecurity that always seemed to go with it.

  “She’ll be right with you, Ms. Fisher.” The secretary leaned over and patted the top of the counter divider that kept her office space and the waiting area separate. The crusty old administrative assistant—Mrs. Peters—glared at one of the young men waiting. “And Mr. Fox, don’t think I don’t see you pulling leaves off my plant. Stop it this instant or I will have Mr. Trujillo add time to your detention for every single leaf!”

  The young man named Mr. Fox rolled his eyes, but he stopped. Apparently he knew just as well as anyone else that Mrs. Peters was not joking when it came to her plants. They filled the office and no doubt added color and texture to the poor woman’s existence.

  Landry folded her arms over her chest and pretended to be utterly absorbed in the school bulletin board. This was her free period. She wasn’t sure why she had been summoned to the office, but she figured the school counselor would let her know soon enough. No doubt it had something to do with a student, but Landry could not think of one that fit the bill right now. The kids in her classes all seemed blessedly normal right now. Perhaps someone had experienced a death in the family. That would often send a young person into a tailspin.

  A death in the family. Landry rubbed her hand down her face and tried not to let that idea bother her. Death wasn’t really the problem, was it? It was finding the bodies that really messed with your head. There was no doubt in Landry’s mind that she had never been the same since that afternoon she’d come home from school to find both of her parents dead from a pill overdose.

  “Landry?”

  Landry spun around and hoped that her face was not as pale as it felt. She had to hold it together. This was not the time to be dwelling on the past. Not at all. So with that in mind she forced herself to smile at the middle school counsellor, Mrs. Hart.

  “Come on in, Landry.” Mrs. Hart waved to Landry and then pointed at one of the kids. “Jason, I will be with you shortly. Please just sit there and don’t cause any more trouble. I would hate to tell your mother that you haven’t been able to keep our bargain.”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hart,” Jason mumbled into his chest.

  Landry taught seventh grade math. She had no doubt that by next year she would know this Jason character. For now it was not so much. So Landry edged past all of the kids and headed into the counselor’s office.

  Once Mrs. Hart had shut the door, Landry felt the compulsion to start talking. “I’ve been searching my brain for which student could have possibly induced you to call a meeting. I could not think of anyone so now I’m just hoping that one of my kiddos hasn’t had some sort of family emergency.”

  “Oh no!” Mrs. Hart sat down behind her desk. The flat surface was littered with little toys and stress balls. “This meeting isn’t about a student. Mr. Trujillo asked me to meet with you.”

  “Excuse me?” Landry had gone to therapy at one point. In fact, she had gone to therapy at several points in her life. But she would have never picked Mrs. Hart to do those sessions. “Mr. Trujillo wanted you to speak to me why?”

  “We’re worried about you, Landry.” Mrs. Hart’s features were arranged in a distinctive expression that resembled an actor trying very hard for genuine compassio
n. It was not encouraging. “We’ve all noticed that you’re looking thin and pale as though you’re not sleeping or eating. We’re worried that you need a break.”

  At this point a break would have been the worst thing possible. Of course Landry got personal time thanks to her teacher’s union contract. But that would not cover the extra money she earned by doing the bus aide job or the lunch aide duty. Those were extras that helped to pay for—well, right now it all got lumped together.

  “Mrs. Hart, I’m fine,” Landry said slowly. “I’ve been stressed out, but I think that’s part of regular life. Does Mr. Trujillo feel like I’m not doing my job?”

  “No. Not at all.” Mrs. Hart had huge glasses that she kept anchored around her neck with a beaded chain. She was tall and thin and always dressed in a long skirt paired with some kind of patterned blouse with huge sleeves. “In fact, the test scores in your classes are wonderful. The kids love you. They all have very positive things to say about your teaching and how attentive you are.”

  “Then why would you think I need a break?”

  “Because life is more than your teaching job,” Mrs. Hart said immediately. “We are afraid that you’re struggling personally with the deaths of your parents and then with the unfortunate incident two years ago.”

  “Wow.” Landry hadn’t sat down in a chair yet and now she knew that she did not intend to. “You really went for it with that sentence, didn’t you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said,” Landry paused to make sure Mrs. Hart was getting this. “You really went for it. With that sentence. With what you said. You talked about both my parents’ deaths, which were suicides. It’s okay if we say that, by the way. I’m fine with it. My parents chose to kill themselves. It was their decision. I’ve always wondered how bad something would have to be for me to see that as a viable way out, but then I’m not my parents.”

  “Landry…”

  “No.” Landry held up her hand. “I’m not done talking. You mentioned an unfortunate incident. That’s just great. Is that what they teach you in therapy school? To minimize someone’s experience by calling a life-altering incident unfortunate and just kind of glossing over the fact that it was so horrific that it left that individual barely clinging to life and also managed to simultaneously cost her so much money that she is currently still paying off the medical bills?”

  “Oh my.” Mrs. Hart bit her lower lip and put her hand over her heart as though she had to stop it from beating right out of her chest. “I had no idea.”

  “No. Because it’s none of your business. You aren’t my therapist. And no offense—because you’re really good with the kids—but I would never choose you as my therapist. So why would you know anything about my personal situation? You wouldn’t. And now you’re going to go running to Mr. Trujillo and you’re going to tell him every single thing that I’ve said here today.”

  “No it’s not like—”

  “Yes. It is. Because he is your boss the same way that he is my boss and you know what?” Landry paused to take a breath and try to gather her tangled feelings. “It’s not fair for you to do this. It isn’t fair to pry. Yes. I have financial issues. I’m broke because some high school kids from a bad neighborhood were looking for places to hang out and do drugs and thought that my backyard seemed like the ideal place.”

  “Landry, stop. I’m sorry.”

  “No. You wanted to know. What is it you wanted to know? You’re sitting over there in your comfy little desk chair thinking that it’s just so sad that I’ve had a tragic life? Bullshit. I’ve had a great life. I had a childhood that people like you only dream of. I was a princess. There was always tons of money. Hell. I even had a pony. Two of them most of the time! There were Christmases like something out of a fairytale. I went to the best schools and wore the best clothes and I never wanted for anything.” Landry stared at Mrs. Hart for a moment. Placing her hands flat on the desk she leaned forward and gazed long and hard at the thirty-something school counselor. “I don’t know you. I don’t know your story. But don’t you ever think that you know mine. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Hart’s answer was weak and breathy. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be.”

  Landry turned and walked out of that office without looking back. She marched past the kids waiting to hear their fates from the administrative staff and past Mrs. Peters’ tall counter that helped her keep herself separate from the general population at the school. Then finally Landry left the main office altogether.

  Her classroom was in a building nearly all the way across campus. That was good. She needed the distance and the time and the space to cool off. That was going to have to happen or the next time Landry saw Mr. Trujillo she was going to come off the rails and wrap her hands around his neck. How could he just ask Mrs. Hart to pry into her life instead of asking her about himself? If he was concerned, if anyone was concerned, they needed to talk to her about it directly. You did not sic the school counselor on an employee. That wasn’t right.

  Her classroom was quiet. There were no kids here right now. They had another ten minutes before their current classes were over and the bell would ring to tell them it was time to switch classes again.

  Landry walked to the bank of windows at the rear of her classroom. They didn’t have the greatest view. It was a narrow outdoor walkway between two buildings lined in concrete and often the scene of middle school children attempting to hide and smoke cigarettes they’d pilfered from their parents or older siblings. But right now she just wanted to look outside and try to see the sky. It was possible here. In tiny strips at the top of each window where she could barely make out the washed-out Dallas sky above the building beside hers.

  Leaning as close to the windows as she dared, Landry gazed up at the sky and felt a swirling sensation in her belly. She was so angry! She had rarely been this angry about anything in her life. It wasn’t the way she was wired. But she had not been exaggerating to Mrs. Hart about her wonderful childhood. There had been something almost charmed about the way that Landry had grown up. She could recall those days with fondness that was not dimmed by the memory of how her parents had decided to end their lives. It was almost as though her childhood memories were protected somehow.

  “Ms. Fisher?” The childish voice grabbed Landry’s attention and made her turn away from the windows.

  There was a seventh grade boy standing in the doorway. He looked a bit nervous and Landry had no doubt that the poor kid had been dreading this conversation for the entire day so far. It was only an hour or two, but to a seventh grader it would seem an eternity.

  “How can I help you, Joel?” Landry turned and offered what she hoped was a warm smile. “Did you need help with the homework?”

  “My dad was really pissed at me—excuse me—he was mad. About my test grade?” Joel took a few mincing steps into the classroom. “He wants me to ask you to change the grade.” Joel waved the test paper in the air. “He says that since I did the corrections I should be able to get the grade changed.”

  Dammit. Landry hated situations like this. Mostly she had come to hate parents over the years. It was almost like they felt the need to measure their success by the success of their children. Joel wasn’t good at math. There was nothing wrong with it. He would have been just fine if his father hadn’t constantly nagged him about it. The poor kid had started having panic attacks on test days and was constantly overthinking and second-guessing himself because he was so worried about what his grades were going to be and how his father was going to react about it.

  “Come and stand here with me for a second,” Landry told Joel. “Let’s talk about what a test is.”

  “Okay.” The thin boy hurried forward. “What about a test? It’s a grade. It’s what decides what your grade is in the whole class!”

  “Sometimes,” Landry acknowledged. She’d learned not to disagree right away with something that a parent had probably told their child. “But not in this cl
ass. The tests actually don’t determine most of your grade. It’s the homework. The homework is what counts the most. Even if I were to change your test grade—which I’m not going to do—it would not change your grade in this class. We need to work hard on the homework. And the good thing about that is corrections count on homework, don’t they?”

  “Yes!” Joel looked relieved. Then his face fell. “But not on tests?”

  “No, kiddo. Because tests are a measure of what you know. That is what the grade tells you. So if I just let everyone correct their mistakes using the book and their homework it would mean we never actually know what they know.” She lightly tapped the top of his closely shaven head. “Up here in your brain. Right?”

  “Oh. I see.” Joel was starting to look worried now. “But my dad says that you have to talk to teachers and neg-neg-neg…”

  “Negotiate?” Landry almost snapped out something angry but managed to catch herself at the last second. “Your father told you that you can negotiate your grade?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s making a deal, Joel.”

  “Oh.” He looked confused. “If everyone made a deal for a grade then we would all get As.”

  “Exactly. And then the A wouldn’t mean anything, would it? Would you be proud of an A if you knew that everyone in the class had made me a deal that they were going to get one just because they showed up?”

  She could see him thinking it over. There were plenty of kids in his class who worked hard. That was true. But there were two or three that didn’t do a damn thing at all. Their grades reflected that, but they didn’t seem to care. Landry could see Joel thinking about that in his head. He was young, but he wasn’t stupid. Kids learned young about fairness and hard work and how those two things went together.

  “So how about let’s look at your homework?” Landry suggested. “I’ll help you with that anytime you want. Then you can have a wonderful grade in the class because you’ll get tons of homework points and if you understand the homework you’ll do well on the tests.”