by Riley Ashby
“Our employer—”
“Just a minute,” I repeated harshly and disappeared into my room.
The door safely closed behind me. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes and cursed myself. Luke whined at the door.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why would I volunteer myself? I knew what these kinds of men liked to do with young women. But when I considered backing out, I could only see my father's broken face as my mother got into another man's car and left us in the blazing sun.
That was the origin of my guilt. I had been the wedge between my parents that drove them apart all those years ago. My demands, my needs, caused the money problems and drove my dad to drown his sorrows in whisky. Deep down, I knew that wasn’t right. The counselor I was forced to see at school, after the second time I showed up with a flask in my backpack, had told me as much. This isn’t my fight. Isn’t my problem. But my father had been through a lot in his life. The addictions weren’t born out of laziness or character flaws; they were the result of trauma that stretched over an entire lifetime. And all addicts needed a reason to get sober.
I knew deep in my heart that my father loved me. Maybe this would give him a goal to strive for, a real reason to get better. Hope was futile, and more than I should allow myself. But just like always, I couldn’t stop it from sparking.
Steeling myself, I yanked a duffel bag out of my closet and quickly filled it with a change of clothes, my makeup, and a phone charger. I left behind the pictures sitting next to my bed, the ones of my high school academic challenge team, taken just before I had to quit to get an after-school job at a movie theater the first time the debt collectors started calling. I had no need of the jewelry my mother left behind when she walked out. And I definitely didn’t want the box of AA and GA chips and medallions underneath my bed. I’d fished them out from between couch cushions and rescued them from the trash. I treated them like talismans that could work magic on my father’s illness, thinking if I amassed enough of them in one place they could use their power to cure him.
Everything I needed fit into this small bag. Small, compact. Like my heart.
The tall man still had hold of my father when I re-emerged into the main room.
“Let him go,” I snapped. “I'm ready.”
“This is not a negotiation, miss,” the short one said calmly. “The debt is your father's.”
“And I'm the payment,” I said firmly. “I highly doubt your employer is going to object to a young woman in place of a middle-aged man.” My father had the gall to look wounded at calling him middle-aged. The two men looked unconvinced. “Or I can call the police. Your choice.”
Their faint amusement shifted to irritation but not outright anger. To be honest, the tall one seemed to be suppressing a smile. His dark hair was plastered against his head in a way that made him look like a Secret Service agent. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes behind the ridiculous sunglasses he was wearing.
“I have specific instructions to bring your father. This is non-negotiable. There is nothing you have to offer me or my employer that will change my mind.”
“Then I’m going with you. I am not going to leave him alone.”
“Very well,” he said, and the short one looked surprised but didn't argue.
Facing the two men in dark suits, I flinched as the shorter man turned his harsh grasp on my arm. He guided me to the front door, and I stepped back outside.
We walked about a block down the road to a black town car. The houses here weren’t labeled well; it was hard to find our house because most of the street numbers were knocked off by flying liquor bottles or when people used them for target practice. It brought me a little bit of pleasure thinking about of how many doors these men must have had to knock on before finding ours; I imagined them growing more and more frustrated as they walked down the sidewalk in those heavy suits, being chased off by angry pit bulls and junkies suspicious of anyone in a tie.
Some local kids were hanging around, looking at the car. A large man stood in front of the vehicle, smoking a vape, preventing the thugs from stripping it. He slid the device into his suit pocket as we approached.
“Who the fuck is this?” he asked. I couldn't see his eyes through his sunglasses. Despite the heat and his suit jacket, he didn't appear to be sweating.
“Stowaway,” the short man said, releasing my arm only to put a hand on the small of my back. I jumped away, but he snagged my elbow this time, steering me toward the car and opening a door. The taller one was already shoving my father into the seat.
The driver shrugged. “As long as it’s clear I had nothing to do with this decision.”
“Don’t worry, Carl, your ass is covered. Get us out of this hellhole.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the kids gathered, spotting Jamie staring at us agape.
“Look after Luke, Jamie. There’s food in the kitchen. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Jamie nodded mutely before I disappeared behind the car door. The shorter man slid into the backseat on the other side of me, the tall man sat in front. I didn’t look out the window as the car drove away. I just closed my eyes and tried to turn to stone.
I had been working in the study at my home all morning, deciding at the last minute not to bother with going downtown to my office. This was ideal only on days when I didn’t have many meetings. As the CEO of a large property holdings company, I had the authority to rearrange my schedule as needed. I dedicated the morning to answering emails and returning some phone calls I had been sitting on for weeks. I didn’t bother to even glance at the clock until I heard the knock at the door of my study.
“Come,” I said, not looking up from my computer.
Castel walked in, and I glanced at him, perfunctorily at first and then with greater interest. Something was amiss. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, then behind, then in his pockets. He never wore his emotions this way.
“What's the problem?” I asked, shutting the laptop and leaning back. “Surely an old drunk can't be that difficult to wrangle.”
“More so than anticipated,” he said. “Did you know the man has a daughter?”
I nodded slowly. It was in my file on him. Barely an adult, still a child really. “Did she cause a scene?”
“You could say that,” he said and stepped aside to reveal Garret, the man I had sent to collect, as well as a small, mousy creature carrying a red duffel bag.
I rose to my feet, trying to keep my temper in check but disrupting the loose papers on the desktop. “Who the hell is this? You let this child talk you out of collecting what was owed me, Castel?”
I saw why Castel was fidgeting so much. He wasn’t nervous, he was smiling. “She’s relentless.”
“I’m here because I’m not going to allow you to kidnap my only family,” the girl said, pulling my attention back to her. She jerked free of Garrett and stepped in front of Castel. “And I'm not a child.”
I took a moment to look her up and down. Where her father was sloppy, disorderly, and had the telltale gut of a long time alcoholic, she was dressed in plain but clean black pants and a black tank top. She looked tired, but she was standing up as straight as she could. Even with that confidence, she was at least eight inches shorter than me. Her pale skin, only slightly lighter than her hair, indicated she spent a lot of time indoors, but I recognized her mettle. This was a girl who had worked hard for a long time.
“How old are you?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, trying to hide my intrigue.
“Twenty-one.” She tipped her head, tossing the end of her long hair over her shoulder.
I narrowed my eyes, and she reddened. Her eyes were a light blue that stood out against the flush of her cheeks.
“Almost.”
To her credit, she didn’t look away. She furrowed her brow at me, trying to look tough, but she was so short it was laughable.
I walked around the desk, stopping a breath away from her. Her blond hair tumbled across muscular shoulders
on display beneath a thin tank top. Her legs were long and lean, but I could see the strength in her thighs. And in her eyes. A look that said she wouldn't leave here without a fight.
“Why are you here?” I asked quietly. She sucked in a shallow breath, chest rising beneath her shirt. I told myself to focus on her face.
“What do you want with my father?”
I frowned, continuing to circle her. “I asked you a question. That merits an answer, not another question in response. I’ll ask you again, but only once. Why are you here?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Because I love my father. I don’t know what you plan to do to him, but it can’t be good. I can’t allow anything bad to happen to him,” she said.
The answer was so simple it threw me for a loop. From what I knew about Harold McDermott, he was as undeserving of love as my own POS father, who’d abandoned me as a child. The fact he had let her come here showed just how little he cared for his daughter’s well-being.
Regaining my composure, I scoffed as I glared at the man in question. “He doesn't deserve your love. If he truly cared about you, he wouldn't have ever let you come here.” It amused me how her back tensed each time I walked behind her. I leaned down to put my lips next to her ear. “Smart prey should learn to leave behind the weaker of the pack as a sacrifice.”
Experimentally, I placed a hand on her shoulder. She jumped but seemed determined not to pull away. She was trembling slightly beneath my touch.
“You can’t keep us here,” Harold said, startling us both. I had nearly forgotten about him. “I know the laws.”
“You…” I jabbed my finger at him “…should keep your mouth shut. You owe one of my colleagues a large amount of money, and he’s not happy that you’ve defaulted. He’s going to be rather pleased with me for digging you up.”
The girl gasped and grabbed her father’s hand. I felt a tug low in my stomach and tried to suppress it without much luck. The fear of the young woman I just met shouldn’t be turning me on. It wasn’t just her fear that attracted me. I saw myself in her desire to stand up for herself even when at the disadvantage. Castel raised his eyebrows suggestively as I shot him a glance over my shoulder. He knew exactly what I was thinking.
Maybe it would be fun to have her around after all.
I grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, our chests bumping against each other. “You, though…” I grabbed a lock of her hair and spun it around my fingers, my hand brushing the back of her neck “…there are functions that you can serve for me that would be more … difficult for him.” I let my eyes travel down the length of her body with agonizing slowness. The flush in her cheeks spread to her neck as she understood my meaning. I seized her chin and tugged her face upward to look at me. She was so much shorter than me, even if she had been older, she’d still look young. “If you obey me, this can be relatively easy for you. If not, I doubt you will enjoy your time here. Do you understand?”
She tried to nod but couldn't as I held her head in place. She licked her lips. My eyes lingered on her tongue. “Yes.”
“Good.” I released her and stepped back. “Take her to the old servants’ quarters,” I said to Garret, not giving her another glance. There was no reason she should take up any more of my resources, no matter how attractive she was. “Get Father of the Year here off my property. He can find his own way home.”
“El— Mr. King.” I glared at Castel as he cleared his throat to cover his slip. “A word?”
We stepped to the far end of the room.
“Come on, man,” he muttered. “Don’t shove her in there.”
“Why not?” The room was already prepared for a guest. Not that guest was the correct word for her, certainly not with what I had planned.
“You should have seen the house, Ellery. Total hellhole. Give her a break. She’ll be a lot more cooperative that way. Plus, if you’re really about to turn her over to … him,” he spat the word with disdain, “then it would be a nice gesture. Give her some comfort before she goes to the devil.”
I frowned at the girl over my shoulder. Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the ornate woodwork interspersed with modern art canvases. When her gaze found mine again, she blushed and looked away.
I let my libido make the decision for me.
“Take her to the white room,” I said, stalking back toward my desk without a glance at her. “Don't let her leave until I come for her.”
Garret nodded and grabbed her in one hand and her father in the other. I kept my eyes on my computer.
“Wait!” She dug her heels into my carpet. “My father counts on my income. Without me paying his bills, what’s going to happen to him?”
Back behind my desk, I leaned across it, my hands splayed wide. I permitted myself to look at her again. “Didn’t you think about that before you begged to come here in his stead?”
Her jaw clenched. “Of course, I did. I couldn’t see my father beat to death for a gambling debt. That doesn’t mean I wanted to leave him unprotected.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I searched her eyes for some hint she would back down, but she was resolute. She should be scared shitless, but she still wanted to look out for her father. I admired that kind of quick thinking.
The man had given her nothing, and still she was devoted to him.
Imagine how she’d treat the person who gave her everything.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, looking away. I could still feel her looking at me. “He won’t go hungry or homeless. Get her out of here.”
Garret nodded curtly and led the bewildered girl from the room. She dared a look over her shoulder at me, and then she was gone. Castel started to follow them out, but I beckoned him back.
“That went about as well as we expected.”
He dropped into the chair in front of my desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket and loosening his tie. I rarely made him dress up, except when performing tasks outside the house. It was a small concession I gave him because of our relationship.
“She insisted. He didn’t argue. Just like you said.”
I nodded, grimacing. Over the past week I had been torn between hoping Sophia’s father was a better man than to send her in his place and wanting to meet this girl for myself. I drummed my fingers, thinking about what would happen now that she was here.
I should have insisted we keep the father no matter what. Nothing good could come from her presence here. She would be a distraction when I could afford none. And she would never forgive me when she discovered her fate. But ultimately, it was none of my concern. There was only one woman I should be focused on.
Castel could tell I was preoccupied. “What have you found out?”
I sighed and switched screens on my laptop, flipping it around to show him my most recent email contact. He read it quickly then cursed.
“Stateside, then.” It was a statement, not a question. He had thought as much for weeks; I was the one who had kept us focused abroad.
“It appears that way.”
It was the closest I’d get to telling him I was sorry for wasting so much time.
Castel scoffed, opened his mouth like he was about to speak, then covered it with his hand while he chuckled softly, mirthlessly.
“Is that all you have to say, King? For wasting almost a month of our time over there when we could have been focusing our efforts right here at home?”
I slammed the laptop shut and stood up, resisting the urge to throw him out. “You think I don’t understand how bad this is? How much time we’ve lost?” I paced behind the chair, rubbing the small scar on my eyebrow. “You think I don’t care about this more than you do?” I was close to yelling and consciously drew myself back. This was the one topic that could get me riled faster than anything else.
Castel glowered at me, but he knew when he was close to pushing me too far. His severe jawline shifted as be ground his teeth, struggling to keep his own temper in check. “I assume you have a plan to get us bac
k on schedule.”
I sat back down, banging my knuckles on the desk. “I started working on it last night. I reached out to the contacts we already have in those areas, let them know we’re refocusing. They’re already doubling down.”
He stood, stalking over to the window and pacing in front of it, four steps one way before doing an about-face and retracing the same path. I had already noted the slight wear on the short beige carpet, so accustomed to this routine in the few short weeks we had been working on this project.
“I suppose I can’t fault you too much. It made sense to go abroad first.”
I grunted, not acknowledging his apology. There was no time for it. “We have another opportunity coming up. Poker night.”
His footsteps faltered then increased. “I want to go.”
“You’ll attend as my driver, as you have every other time. We’re not changing the strategy now.”
“I can make him talk.” He was pleading with me, though he didn’t seem to notice the change in his own tone. He was staring at the floor as he walked, biting his lip. Not for the first time, I noticed the ragged quality of his nails where he had worn them down with his teeth—a problem he’d had since we roomed together our sophomore year at boarding school and one he apparently hadn’t shed in the intervening years that sent us on separate career paths and then crashing back together in the worst possible way.
Castel had come from money, and we only met because I received a merit scholarship to the school after my own was closed. It was a feel-good move on the part of the developers who had skimped on construction at our school. Three kids had died when the roof collapsed. I got a concussion and a scholarship.
Turned out the scholarship was just the push I needed. My sister languished in public school while I worked my ass off to get a full ride to college. Then Castel let me hide her in our dorm room so she could stay off the streets until she secured her own place at the school. Castel left on his own path while I stayed in California with my sister. Now, he was back in my time zone and far from happy about it.
