He inhaled harshly. “And you didn’t let me know?”
“Umm, I didn’t know until I was dancing.”
He turned his head to the back window, watched, turned back, and stared at her with harsh contempt. She nearly flinched under the look before jerking her eyes back to the road.
“Why do you have a bodyguard, Ms. Stanton?” he finally asked.
“Well, because Daddy stresses after that last kidnapping?” she asked with false innocence, restraining her own disgusted wince at the words that slipped sarcastically from her lips.
Okay, so she had been kidnapped once because of his work against that damned drug cartel. But he had told her, as long as she kept the bodyguards, it wouldn’t happen again. That she would be safe.
“Did it occur to you that you could be in danger?”
“I’m sure I would be if I didn’t have a big tough marine watching over me,” she said, trying to placate him.
“Don’t give me your bullshit,” he ground out. “This is going in my report. Go ahead and wreck the damned truck, see if I care. The injuries would be nothing compared to what your father will do when he finds out how I’ve let you run over me. I’d be ashamed of myself if I weren’t fairly certain he’s going to kill me.”
He sounded disgusted with himself and with her.
Emily winced. “I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”
“Forget it.”
“I promise to be good. No more strip clubs. I swear.”
His expression didn’t waver. “Not on your life. Not on my life. Sorry, kid, your gig is up.”
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the wuss she thought he was after all.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she realized she was going to have to endure another of her father’s lectures. How she had to be careful to stay safe. He was a senator. He had made enemies.
Yes, he was a senator, and she was hellaciously proud of everything he did and had done. He had raised her alone since she was five, since her mother’s death, and he had taught her to be careful. But he had also taught her about adventure. How to shoot, how to hunt. How to be strong and how to look for strength.
Until she turned eighteen. Suddenly, he wanted her in dresses and makeup and married and with babies. He didn’t understand that core of adventure he had placed in her soul that now had no place to go.
She had given up the idea of joining the armed services the day he paled when she mentioned it. His hands had actually shaken as he pushed them through his short hair and stared back at her in horror.
She didn’t want her dad that scared for her. She didn’t want him worrying. So she had tried to settle down, tried to ignore the need for adventure.
She went to college and looked for a husband.
She graduated and found a job at a very exclusive private school, and began to hope just for a lover. Hell, a broken heart would be bearable if she could find a man worth letting her heart get broken over. And she appreciated the candidates he sent her in the form of bodyguards. She really did. But she was sick of them. And unfortunately the only time she had refused to have one, was the time she was actually kidnapped. Go figure.
“Emily, your father isn’t playing games with you,” Dyson said long moments later, his voice serious, full of warning. “He doesn’t make you accept having a bodyguard just for the hell of it.”
She blinked back the sudden, burning warmth behind her eyes.
“I’m his daughter. His only child. He worries.”
“Have you considered that he worries for good reason? You were k
idnapped once already. Do you understand the effort it took to rescue you and the other girls?”
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel before flashing him an angry look. “Have you considered that I try not to get in trouble? That I try to be nice and prim and proper and all the things he wants in a daughter? That I try to stay safe?” She laughed mockingly. “Forget it, Dyson. You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re not a man, Emily. You’ve got balls, I admit, but you’re never going to make him see you as anything other than his little girl.” Maybe he understood more than she gave him credit for.
“I’d settle for that,” she whispered. “It beats being the brood mare he keeps hoping I’ll become for some dimwit male with less sense than morals. And it doesn’t even matter anymore. Tell him whatever you want to. I don’t give a damn. But don’t think you’re hurting me when you do. Because I promise you, unless you’re a sperm donor for the grandkids he wants, then he’ll just replace you like he does everyone else.”