The sound of glass shattering jolts me awake.
I sit up in bed, hugging the covers to my chest, wishing I’d worn my flannel nightshirt instead of my lacy pink bralette.
“Hello?” I call out. My mom’s fiancé Tom is the only other person in the house. Mom’s away on a girls’ weekend, and my twin brother Colin is off partying in New York with friends—a belated eighteenth birthday present from our grandparents. When Tom doesn’t respond, I slink out of bed and put on my short silk robe.
Tiptoeing out to the hallway, I listen for any unusual sounds. I hear footsteps crunching glass.
“Daddy,” I call, “is that you?”
Tom isn’t my father, but he’s been dating my mother since I was little, so I’ve grown up thinking of him as my surrogate dad. Now that he’s running for Senator, he and my mom decided it would look better if they officially tied the knot. Mom’s been stressing about the wedding for months, so when the chance for her to get away presented itself, he insisted she take the weekend off.
I pad downstairs into the darkened foyer, then make my way through the empty kitchen. Nothing out of place here. I step into the family room and freeze.
There’s glass all over the hardwood floor, a jagged hole in the square next to the handle on one of the French doors leading out to the deck.
The doors are open.
“Dad—”
A gloved hand clamps over my mouth as someone grabs me from behind.
“Don’t fucking move,” says a man’s voice directly into my ear.
My heart hammers in my chest. I hear footsteps coming from the front room. Could they be Tom’s? I struggle against the man holding me. With a firm bash of my heel against his toes, I pivot, dislodging his hand.
“Daddy! There’s a man—”
Another stranger saunters into the family room, a look of smug satisfaction on his pock-marked face. He waves a crowbar in my face. “Sorry, I ain’t your daddy, sweetheart. But depending on what you’ve got hidden under that pretty little robe, I could be.”
My stomach curdles. The first man grabs me by the hair. I scream. He slaps me, then clasps a hand around my jaw.
“Try that shit again, and next time, it’ll be my fist.” His breath is sour, his eyes dark as charcoal. “Now, let’s go wake up dear old Dad.”
They march me up the stairs, one on each side of me. My knees shake with every step. I stumble on the landing and the man with the acne scars yanks me up by the waist. His gaze falls to my robe, the top splaying open. He leers at my chest, and my skin crawls.
“This it?” the other man asks, pointing to the master bedroom door.
I nod.
He busts through the doorway and switches on the light. Startled, my dad sits up in bed and rubs his eyes.
“What the—” Shock and anger wash across his face as he takes in the situation. “Who the hell are you?”
“Figures you’d forget our faces,” says the intruder who grabbed me first. “But I guess that’s to be expected when all you care about is getting to the top. No need to concern yourself with the little people who keep your campaign afloat while you drink Dom Perignon on your fancy yacht and schmooze with the governor.”
My daddy’s gaze is cold as ice. I can tell he’s fighting hard to stay calm. “Okay, so you work for my campaign?”
“More like a special interest group you decided you didn’t need to cater to anymore. But not before you stiffed us a few hundred grand.”
“Is that what this is about? You break into my house and assault my kid because you think I owe you money?”
The guy with the acne scars grasps the end of the tie around my waist and pulls. My robe falls open, placing my lace bralette and matching panties on display. “I think you owe us more than that, Senator.”
My daddy throws the covers back and plants his feet on the floor. The first man grabs the crowbar and threatens to hit me with it. I flinch.
“Now, just hold on a minute. Don’t do anything rash.” My dad’s bare chest expands and contracts with each shallow breath. “This doesn’t involve Cara. Let her run back to her room and we can talk business.”
“That would be simpler, wouldn’t it?” The man taps my nose with the end of the crowbar, then glides the cold metal into one of my bralette cups. My nipple hardens against the chill. “But something tells me you’ll be a lot more generous if baby girl sticks around.”
My dad’s lip curls with disgust. “Lay a finger on my little girl and you won’t live to enjoy my generosity.”
The guy with the acne scars chuckles. “I’d like to lay a lot more than a finger on her, Senator.” He draws a fingertip down my chest to tug my bralette down, exposing me. I shiver as tears fill my eyes. “Your girl’s got a nice rack. So round and perky.”
He pinches my nipple. I wince.
“That’s enough!” Daddy takes a step toward me. The man with the crowbar lifts the weapon above my head.
My daddy stops.
“Don’t worry, Senator. You’ll get your turn.”
The other man rips my robe from my shoulders, then tears my bralette down the middle and tosses it. He yanks my panties off, then pushes me to my knees on the carpet. I wrap my arms around myself, unable to comprehend the enormity of what’s happening.
“Look, I’ll give you whatever you want,” my daddy barks. “Just leave Cara out of this.”
“Actually,” says the man with the crowbar. “What we want very much is to get her into this. Or, more precisely, to get you into her.”
I gasp.
My dad’s face twists in confusion. “What the hell are you proposing?”
The man with the acne scars pulls out his phone. “At first, we thought we’d show up, smack your kid around, then convince you to pay up on the condition that we wouldn’t have a go at her. But then we got to thinking, why settle for a one-time payout?”