by Tia Siren
“Want to watch TV?”
“Don’t you have to work today?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not leaving you.”
Grabbing the remote, I turned on the TV and began the tedious process of channel surfing. How could there be a hundred channels and yet nothing good on?
“Dylan, I can’t do this. I want to go home,” she said, her voice a whisper.
I turned to look at her. “Kendall, it isn’t safe. We can move to a nicer hotel, or we can head up north for a few days.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m tired of running. Let him come to me. The cops can be there waiting, or the security guys can capture him. I haven’t been home in close to a month. I want to go home where my things are and where I am comfortable.”
I wanted to say no, but the look of longing on her face was too much for me to deny. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “My building is safe. It has a doorman. I’ll tell them not to let my dad up and to call the police. I want to sleep in my own bed. I want to wear more than the few outfits I’ve been dragging from one place to another. I need to relax, and I can only do that in my own home.”
“What about going back to the townhouse?”
She grimaced. “I love your townhouse. It’s beautiful, exquisite really, but it’s huge. Moving from my bedroom to the kitchen is a journey.”
“You could use the elevator.”
She smiled. “You don’t think it’s an issue that you need an elevator to get to the kitchen for a snack, or to get to the living room?”
I laughed. “You may have a point.”
“Your home is really nice, and I can understand the appeal. With my current morning sickness, though, the last thing I want to do is go up and down four flights of stairs several times a day. I’m lazy. I don’t care.”
“You’re not lazy. We could go to my penthouse,” I suggested.
“My dad knows where you live, just like he knows where I live. I want to go home,” she repeated.
I nodded my head. I wasn’t going to win this round. I knew what it was like to long for your own bed. I often felt that way when I was at the penthouse for an extended amount of time. Her complaints about the townhouse got me thinking. It wasn’t really the right environment for a baby anyway. I was going to need a new house.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, concern on her face.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Everything. You’re right. The townhouse isn’t right. We’ll go to your place.”
She sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
“I’m going with you,” I said, wanting to make sure she understood that one very important fact.
“You don’t have to babysit me. I’m a big girl. I feel safe in my apartment.”
“Yes, I do. I’ll take you home, but I’ll be with you,” I repeated. “Look what happened to Vanessa’s apartment.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That was different. Those men were thugs. My dad is a lot of things, but he isn’t a violent thug.”
I raised an eyebrow, questioning her statement. I saw the moment she realized he was very much a violent thug.
“Fine,” she conceded. “You can go with me, but I am not going to be a prisoner in my own home. We can use me as bait, draw him out and then get him.”
“No.”
“Dylan, don’t be so stubborn. It’s a good idea. They do it in the movies all the time,” she reasoned.
“No.”
She growled. “I’m not sure how many times I need to remind you, but FYI, I’m an adult. I don’t need you to make my decisions for me.”
“You are a beautiful adult, and I want to keep you that way. I want you safe. I want my baby safe. Let me do this.”
She looked at me before nodding her head. “Okay, no baiting, but I am not staying locked in my apartment forever. Let’s get that clear right now,” she said, pointing her finger at me.
I offered a placating smile. “Let me go talk to the security team. They’ll want to check the place out.”
She nodded her head and gave me her address. I knew the building. I kept forgetting she was a wealthy woman and not the PA I’d hired.
It took an hour to get everything arranged. Kendall was anxious to get home, and I wanted to do whatever it took to make her happy and give her that comfort she was desperately seeking.
“Good-bye, Mateo. Thank you for everything. Please tell your wife thank you for us as well,” I said, shaking his hand.
Mateo was grinning wildly. “Thank you, Mr. Parks.”
When we got in the SUV, Kendall looked at me. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled. “Mateo was about ready to explode with giddiness. You did something nice for him.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “They fell on hard times a little while ago. I just helped him out.”
She nodded her head. “By doing what?”
“He doesn’t have to worry about keeping up with the mortgage on the place. He can use the money he gets from his business to save up for retirement,” I said.
Her mouth fell open. “You bought his house?”
“No! I paid off his mortgage.”
She burst into laughter. “That was one hell of an expensive overnight stay.”
I smiled. “Mateo is a good guy. He’s worked hard his whole life and still would have never been able to retire and live out his golden years with his wife. Now he can.”
She leaned over and kissed me. “You amaze me every day.”
I grinned. “That’s a good thing, right?”
She nodded. “That’s a very good thing.”
The second we walked into the lobby of her building, I felt something was off. Security assured me everything was fine. One of the guards would be staying in the lobby. Another one had already gone up to her apartment.
We stepped into the elevator, and as the elevator doors slid closed, an icy shiver snaked down my spine. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Something was off.
“It’s okay,” Kendall said, squeezing my hand. “Relax. Your guys checked everything out. My place isn’t quite as nice as your penthouse or your townhouse, but it is very comfortable.”
I didn’t answer. My gaze was focused on the elevator doors. I glanced up. One more floor and the doors would open. Dread had me clenched tightly in its fist.
“Kendall, this isn’t right. We need to go somewhere else,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Relax,” she said, resting her head against my shoulder.
The elevator bounced, coming to a stop. I dropped her hand, pushing her behind me as the doors quietly slid open. I didn’t make a move to step out. I looked left and right, saw the hall was clear. I had been expecting an ambush. It was clear.
Her hand in the middle of my back reminded me I was supposed to be getting off the elevator.
“It’s clear,” I murmured.
“Your security guy already said that.”
I nodded and stepped into the hallway and grabbed her hand. “Show me the way.”
She smiled and led me down the short hall. There were only two apartments on the floor. She slid her key in the door and pushed it open.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” she said, grinning as we stepped into an entryway.
I closed the door behind me, locked it, and then took her in my arms. “I want the grand tour, but first, I want a kiss.”
I leaned down and kissed her, pulling her body close to mine.
“Isn’t that sweet.” A male voice cut through the shadows.
In one swift move, I turned to face the voice, pushing Kendall behind me.
“Dad?” she whispered, and I instantly knew my gut feeling had been right.
“Don’t call me Dad!” the man hissed, stepping into the entryway, a gun trained on us both. “You traitorous whore! I told you to sleep with him, not fall in love with him! You are no longer my daughter!”
My eyes were focused on the gun
. Everything was happening too fast. My mind refused to accept the threat standing five feet in front of me. I could hear the ocean in my ears, threatening to pull me into a panic. I couldn’t panic. I took a deep breath and stared at the man who had made himself my archenemy. Threatening me and my company had been bad enough. Threatening my woman and my unborn child crossed a line.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kendall
Monday
My heart was racing so fast, I felt as if I would pass out. My legs were trembling and my palms were sweaty as I looked around Dylan to see the gun pointed at him.
“Dad, don’t do this,” I whispered.
“Quit calling me Dad,” he barked. “I never want to hear you say that word again.”
“You won’t have to worry about hearing anything if you hurt her,” Dylan said in a low, menacing voice.
My dad’s maniacal laugh sent a shiver down my spine. “I have the gun, dipshit. You can’t dodge a bullet. I know you think you’re some kind of god, but you put on your pants one leg at a time just like the rest of us.”
I felt Dylan take a small step back. The movement was subtle. He was trying to put some distance between us and the gun. I thought that was a very good idea.
“What do you want, Scott?” Dylan asked in a calm voice.
“I want what’s rightfully mine! What you stole from me!”
“What did I steal?”
“My money! And you!” he shouted, stepping to the side to get a better look at me. “You bitch! I can’t believe you betrayed me!”
I shook my head. “I didn’t betray you!”
“You chose this guy over your own father. You chose him. Was it his money? He has more money than I do, so he bought your loyalty?”
“No. It wasn’t like that at all,” I protested.
I had no idea what to say. I was afraid I would make him even angrier if I tried to explain myself.
“Shh,” Dylan soothed, taking another step back, pushing me behind him once again.
“You’re a good-for-nothing daughter. You were supposed to help me get my company back. He stole everything!” My father’s face turn beet red, and I wondered if he would drop dead of a heart attack in the middle of my entryway.
“Scott, be reasonable. She did exactly what you told her to do. She infiltrated my company. I knew who she was. I locked everything down. She didn’t get what you asked her to but she tried. Kendall didn’t betray you.” Dylan spoke in that same calm voice.
It wasn’t working. My dad was waving the gun around. I could see him losing control before my very eyes, and I feared the worst.
“Bullshit! Look at her, draped on you like a two-dollar whore!”
“I’ll give you money. Tell me how much you want. I’ll have it transferred into one of your accounts right away. You can take the money and go,” Dylan said.
“It isn’t just money I want. I want revenge. Kendall, you are going to pay for what you did to me.”
Dylan stepped back again, nearly knocking me to the ground with the abrupt movement.
“Stop moving!” my dad screamed.
I froze in place.
“You don’t want to hurt your own daughter, Scott. This isn’t how you get revenge. I’ll give you all the money you want. You can hide anywhere in the world.”
I peered around Dylan’s shoulder. My dad’s eyes darted from me to Dylan. The gun was aimed in our general direction. His hand was slack. In slow motion, my father reached up with his free hand to run it over his face. The brief second his eyes were shielded by his own hand, Dylan sprang forward.
I screamed, fearing the worst. Dylan knocked my father to the ground. I heard the thud as his body connected with the travertine tile floor. I looked behind me, debating whether I should run for help. The security guard was supposed to be up here. In a cold, horrifying moment of realization, I knew my father had hurt the guard. He could have been lying dead in my apartment somewhere.
I snapped myself back to what was happening on the floor, watching the two men struggle. My dad outweighed Dylan by a good fifty pounds, but Dylan was in far better shape. I had no idea where the gun was. I worried it was still in my father’s hand and he would shoot Dylan at point-blank range. I had to do something.
I lunged forward, trying to pull him off Dylan.
“Get off me!” he screamed, throwing an elbow back and connecting with my jaw, snapping my head back.
I held on, my arms wrapped around his neck as I tried to pull him away from Dylan. His elbow came flying back once again, hitting me in the ribs with such force that it knocked the wind from my lungs, sending me to the ground.
“Kendall!” Dylan shouted.
I couldn’t answer him. I struggled to drag in air, listening to the sounds of the struggle continue a few feet away. I turned my head to watch and saw Dylan roll, climbing on top of my father and punching him in the face several times. I rolled over, getting to my knees, finally dragging in a painful breath and crawling toward the gun I saw lying on the floor.
In one wild instant, my father found the strength to launch Dylan off his body, sending Dylan crashing into the wall. Then he grabbed the gun.
I whimpered when he pointed it directly at my head. I watched in horror as my father got to his knees, holding the gun on me while he got to a standing position. I turned to look at Dylan slumped against the wall, his eyes glazed as he blinked several times.
“Dylan!” I screamed.
“Shut up!” my father shouted two feet in front of me.
I was still on my hands and knees. I looked up at him. “Please,” I begged. “Go. Just go.”
Spittle clung to the corners of his mouth. His face was red and already bruising from Dylan’s violent punches. “I hate you. I always knew you were useless. Why your mother gave me a mealy-mouthed daughter and not a strong son, I’ll never know. You were never going to be good enough to run my company.”
The words stung. I knew he had always wanted a son, which had driven me to try harder, to be more aggressive and be one of the guys. Hearing him actually say the words fueled my anger and adrenaline. I was no longer terrified of what was going to happen. I accepted my fate. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me scared or begging for my life.
“I don’t want your company. It’s tainted with evil, just like you,” I spat out. “I hate that you’re my father.”
He chuckled. “I don’t care.”
“You can kill me instead. Just leave her alone.” Dylan’s voice was filled with pain as he spoke.
“I can kill you both.”
“There’s nothing to gain by killing either of us,” Dylan said. “You’re doing this because you want revenge. You got it. I’ll give you every penny I have. You’ve won.”
That got my dad’s attention. He grinned. “Every penny?”
Dylan nodded, sitting forward and getting to his knees. “I’ll do it, right now. You can take me to the bank and I’ll transfer the money. I’ll sign over whatever you want.”
My dad turned to face Dylan across the small entryway, the gun following his movement. I turned to look at Dylan. His eyes met mine and he gave a slight shake of his head, knowing what I was about to do.
I apologized with my eyes, but I had to do something. I wasn’t going to let Dylan lose everything because of my father’s greed and evil ways. I closed my eyes, praying for strength and courage. Then, like a tiger attacking its prey, I leaped forward, springing off the floor with power I didn’t know I had in my legs, and slammed into my father.
The action took him by surprise. I heard the gun hit the floor at the same time Dylan shouted my name. My dad didn’t fall like I had hoped. He spun around and used both hands to shove me hard, sending me toppling over the back of my sofa and into my coffee table.
Everything hurt. I didn’t bother trying to move. I knew I couldn’t. I lay on the floor in front of my sofa, my view completely blocked. I could feel the Persian rug under my cheek and thought about how soft
it was.
“Get up, Kendall!” I heard Dylan shout followed by the sound of a fist connecting with flesh.
I crawled up the couch and managed to stand on legs that felt like rubber. Dylan was on top of my father, his knees pressed into his biceps while he punched him again and again.
“Dylan, stop,” I whispered, looking at my father’s bloody face. “No more.”
He stopped, looked down at my father, and moved off him, grabbing the gun and holding it on him. I scrambled around the couch, running for my purse that had been deposited on my now-smashed entry table, and fished out my cell phone to call 911. I handed the phone to Dylan, letting him fill in the dispatcher while I pushed the button on my wall that would alert building security of a problem.
Within minutes, my apartment was a beehive of activity. Dylan’s security team was the first to arrive. They quickly searched the apartment and found their comrade in the kitchen, suffering from a knife wound.
“You’ll both need to go the hospital,” a police detective said.
I watched as my father was dragged out of my apartment in cuffs, cursing and threatening to kill me and Dylan.
“We’ll do that,” Dylan said. “I’ll have my guys take us.”
“We have an ambulance waiting,” the detective replied.
Dylan shook his head. “I’d prefer to have my security detail escort us.”
The detective shrugged. “Suit yourself. We’ll need an official statement from both of you. This attack combined with his other charges is going to put him away for the rest of his life.”
Nodding my head, I fought back tears, knowing I was losing the battle. “Thank you,” I croaked out.
I had no idea why I was thanking him. Dylan’s arm around my shoulders squeezed a little tighter. “We need to go. She’s pregnant.”
The detective looked shocked. “Oh, get going then. Get her to the hospital.”
It seemed silly to have a body guard stick by our side as we rode in the elevator.
“They have him,” I stated. “I don’t think we need the security still.”
Dylan shook his head. “I want the security until I know he is locked up in a cell with no chance of escape. Humor me, please.”
