The Prof Croft Series: Books 0-4 (Prof Croft Box Sets Book 1) Brad Magnarella (ink book reader txt) 📖

“It’s Professor Croft,” I answered testily.

“Not anymore.” He stepped inside the room. “You’re suspended.”

“Based on an anonymous allegation?” I snorted. “We’ll see what the board has to say about that.”

“Oh, the board’s spoken.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed me a crisp white envelope. I searched Snodgrass’s face for a lie as I stood my cane against my desk. I opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. It was a suspension order, signed by Chairman Cowper.

“Effective immediately,” Snodgrass said, stepping to my side.

My face smoldered at his undisguised glee. “I can read.”

“Oh, and there’s more.”

“What, you’re an admitted cross-dresser?”

Hands clasped behind his back, Snodgrass gave a forbearing smile. “Hold onto that humor, Mr. Croft. You’re going to need it where you’re going.” He turned his face toward the door and called, “You can come in now.”

Three bulky NYPD officers pushed into the room. I recognized them as members of the Hundred. One led with a pistol. The other two wielded police batons. Loathing creased their faces.

“It’s a lie,” I told them.

“Everson Croft,” the lead officer growled. “You’re under arrest for treason and accessory to mass murder.”

Snodgrass retreated past the officers. “For the record, the college stands firmly with the NYPD. Use whatever force you deem justifiable, men. Rest assured, there will be no one here to witness it.”

Without taking my gaze from the advancing officers, I unshouldered my satchel, reached for where I’d set my cane—and swiped air. When Snodgrass turned and stepped into the hallway I saw that he’d hidden my cane behind his back. That son of a… Grinning, he balanced my cane on an index finger and closed the door behind him. I retrained my focus on the advancing officers and tried to summon my wizard’s voice.

“Look guys,” I stammered, “you need to let me explain.”

“Explain it to Charlie Dumars,” the lead officer said, his voice low and steely. “Or how about Eddie Gleeson, Don Whitley, T Bone Jones. Explain it to the thirty-two others you murdered.”

“I underestimated the threat,” I admitted, backing away from them. “I screwed up. But not in the way it’s being spun.”

“Shut him up,” the lead officer ordered.

The two flanking officers raised their batons and rushed forward.

22

Raw energy crackling against my prism, I aimed my palms toward the advancing officers, squinted my eyes—and at the last second, covered my head. Without my cane, I didn’t have control. I could maim the officers, or worse. God knew, I didn’t need more dead NYPD on my conscience. And it would make me look guilty, putting the remaining officers in the city on shoot-to-kill orders.

I would take my lumps, play possum, and then determine a non-lethal way out of this.

I squinted up as the officers descended on me.

Maybe easier said than done.

The first baton blow cracked my right forearm, the pain shooting all the way to my shoulder. The second baton caught me across the diaphragm. The air left my lungs in a nauseating grunt. I dropped to my knees and folded over, arms wrapping my head.

The batons rained down on my back in deep, thudding blows.

Stay conscious, Everson, I thought through gritted teeth.

“Stop!” a woman shouted.

The blows tapered, then ceased. I fell to my side, my body one big, throbbing slab of pain. I could hear the officers breathing heavily as limping footsteps entered the classroom.

“I want three minutes with him,” the woman said, “then he’s all yours again.”

I looked up, half-expecting to see a recovered Penny, but I found Detective Vega instead. Hardly a whew moment. Vega glared down at me, her lips a trembling line.

When the officers didn’t move, she barked, “Alone.”

The sharpness of the command got them moving. They filed out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them.

“Oh, c’mon,” I grunted through the pain. “You don’t believe that horseshit in the paper.”

“You don’t speak unless I tell you to.” She drew her pistol and aimed it at my head. “On your feet.”

“Apparently you do,” I muttered.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” she said.

“Oh, was that a request?”

Using the seat of a nearby desk, I pushed myself to one knee and then up to my feet. Amoeba-like spots swam over my vision. When they receded, Vega had stepped closer. She was wearing one of her all-black suits, a metal brace bracketing her right knee. Her knuckles were white around her pistol grip. I’d seen her angry before, but this seemed different, worse.

“You’re a fucking liar,” she said.

“Do I have permission to speak now?”

“You told me you weren’t working with the blood-suckers, and you’re neck deep in them.”

“Your proof?”

“And I’m the one who vouched for you, you piece of shit.”

“Exactly,” I said, anger breaking through my voice. “So how in the hell could I be a plant?”

“I swear to God, I could kill you right now.”

“Really?” I staggered back from her thrusting pistol, my palms showing. I glanced past her to my classroom door, where the officers were peering in through the mesh window. I half considered waving the three inside to resume beating me—I liked my chances better with them—but with my next stumbling step backwards, I was beyond their view.

“I’d be doing this city a favor,” Vega went on.

“You’re a detective,” I said. “Exercise some logic, for Christ’s sake. If I’d wanted the Hundred decimated, why did I risk my neck to get them out of the park? Why would I—”

“Shut up!” she shouted. But her eyes were suddenly out of sync with her voice. They seemed to soften as they cut to my right.

“Huh?”

“Shut it, I said!” Louder, and with the same eye motion.

I peeked over my shoulder. The window. Vega had steered me into the corner and out of sight of the officers for a reason. When I looked back at her, she nodded once, eyes insistent. I reached back and thumbed the latch open. That she didn’t shoot told me I’d read her intentions correctly.

“You don’t get it!” she shouted, clearly for