But her dad’s eyes were already scanning the area, his mission clear. His gaze landed on her and Wes, and his face reddened. “No, I’ve found who I was looking for, thank you.”
“Incoming,” Wes said under his breath.
Her father straightened his tie with brute force and strode over to her with that purposeful, command-the-room way he had. Like a king in his court, no matter where he went. He stopped in front of Rebecca, an examining gaze sweeping over her. “The news reports said you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she said, too tired to put any emotion into it.
“Good,” he said gruffly, betraying that maybe part of him had been truly worried. But that quickly shifted into his angry voice. “I can’t believe—What were you thinking, Rebecca? That piece of shit shot someone. He had a gun. And you just walk in?”
“Dad, don’t talk about Steven like that,” she said, frustration entering her voice. “It’s a long story. And I can’t do this right now.”
“Sir, Rebecca has been up—” Wes started.
“The hell you can’t listen,” her father said, cutting Wes off like he wasn’t there. “You don’t make a man answer a middle-of-the-night phone call from the police about his only child and then tell him you don’t have time to talk.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to channel some semblance of energy to face her dad’s fury. He’d been worried. She could appreciate that. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You did scare me. And you’re still scaring me. Because I heard some other things from my contact at the news station that you better tell me real fast aren’t true.” He sent Wes a look that could strip the paint off the walls. “Will you excuse us so I can talk to my daughter?”
Rebecca’s hand shot out and dug into Wes’s thigh. “No, he will not. Wes is staying.”
Her father’s jaw clenched, and he dragged a chair over to sit and face them. “Fine. He can hear this too then. Might as well since it also concerns him.”
Rebecca’s stomach rolled. “Dad, I think we should save whatever talk you’re about to give me for some other time somewhere else. I’m exhausted, and you’re clearly angry. We should—”
“Your name is all over the news, Rebecca,” he said, ignoring her request.
“I’m aware,” she said curtly.
“At first it was the heroic story of local lawyer and Long Acre survivor Rebecca Lindt bravely going in to save a teen from a suicide attem
pt,” he said, his words stark and angry. “Then the truth came out.”
“That is the truth, sir,” Wes said calmly, clearly not intimidated by her father’s blustering. “Rebecca did save Steven. You would’ve been proud. She was tremendously brave.”
“Do not tell me what I should be proud of or what my daughter is,” her father said, sending Wes a hateful look. “The news is now reporting that my daughter, a lawyer in my firm, has agreed to represent a delinquent who shot a police officer. You better tell me this is bad reporting, Rebecca. I need to hear that right now. Say it.”
Rebecca sat up taller in her chair, too exhausted and emotionally empty to give a flying fuck about her father’s temper tantrum. “That’s the truth. Steven was being abused. He shot in self-defense. I’m taking his case.”
“You are not. I don’t care what this man’s put in your head. He’s got his own record, so I can’t say I’m surprised he’d swindle you,” her father said, eyeing Wes with disgust. “But I am not having my firm involved with this case. A cop killer.”
“Steven’s dad is going to make it. This won’t be a murder trial,” she said, her anger bubbling hot.
“That’s just dumb luck,” her father said, flicking a dismissive hand. “We know what his intention was. Do you know how this reflects on my campaign?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” she said, whisper-yelling so the cops at the desk wouldn’t get a show. “This is a kid’s life, Dad. I know this boy. I’ve worked with him in Wes’s program. The charity project—”
“Is a goddamned farce,” her father finished. “You’ve been used by this man. If I had known my money was going to some program that funded kids like this—delinquents, dangerous criminals—I would’ve never allowed it. My name and my firm will not be tied to that. I’m pulling the funding today.”
Wes tensed next to her.
“What?” Rebecca said, forgetting to keep her voice down. “You can’t do that.”
“I can, and I will. You weren’t seeing straight when you allocated the money. You were charmed out of it,” her father said, his tone hard.
“Oh my God, stop it,” she said, pressing her fingers to her temples where a headache was knifing through her brain. “I’m a grown woman. Wes didn’t trick me out of anything. If you know nothing else about me, you know that I’m smart. A guy with a cute smile and a few clever lines isn’t going to turn me into some empty-headed idiot who hands over her bank card. Wes has never asked for anything. He didn’t want the money. He wanted to raise it on his own with the kids. I had to convince him to take it for the program. The whole thing was my idea. And it’s a good idea and a great program.”
“The funding is done,” her father said, dismissing her argument. “And you’re going to drop this case. Right now.”