“Now,” he grunts and hoists me over his shoulder, uncaring of my pitiful arguments. In my surprise, I drop the can of empty mace. Perched on my belly six and a half feet in the air over a meaty shoulder, I cast around, looking for anything I can use for a weapon but come up empty-handed.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you can put me down and leave now. Someone will call the cops!”
It’s all lies. None of my neighbors are home at this hour. My balled fists meet a thick, muscled back but he only laughs at my puny attempts at fighting back.
Seconds later I’m outside, bathrobe skewered sideways across my body and planted beside a dark limo. A man in a perfectly tailored suit standing in the open door.
“Sorry, sir. She refused to come nicely.”
Reality begins to sink in when I see my father. His eyes are shrouded beneath the rim of a dark hat, his hands clenching and unclenching over the rim of the open door. Since he makes a living in this town’s underbelly and threatening others, one would think having nerves of steel came with the territory.
The evidence says otherwise.
An air of doom clogs my lungs. Something is wrong, only I can’t tell what. I look around for a bigger threat than his goon but see nothing.
One thing I do know though is if there is trouble, this man is never anyone’s solution.
“Father. Say what you came to say and then leave.”
This is a disaster just waiting to happen.
I swallow while peering up at him, apparent disgust sliding across his face. “Stop being a bitch like your mother and listen. Get in the car and maybe you won’t die today,” he hisses in a tone oozing with poison.
I clamp down on my nerves, forcing them to behave. “Your fatherly speeches are lacking,” I deadpan. “And since when would you care if I do die? And are you threatening me?”
Ignoring my questions, he stands there unblinking. “Get in now, Katriona. No debate.” He turns those dark eyes to the man standing behind me and I shrug out of a hand coming down on my shoulder. The move is getting real old and fast.
I look at my father, humiliation and shock filling me. “You treat me like a bag of dirty laundry since I can remember and now you want me to blindly follow you? I’m not going anywhere with you. Not now, not ever. If I’m in so much danger, as you say, then why not bring the cops into this?” I clench my fists at my sides and push down the nightmares the man who donated sperm to my existence twenty-one years ago caused in my life.
Not interested in an answer, I turn to leave but Muscles is standing behind me, his death glare scarier than mine.
Stubbornness stiffens my spine. I can’t help it. He might be three times my size but no one forces me into anything. Ever.
“Get her in the limo. In the trunk, if you have to. I won’t leave her behind so they can hold her over my head.”
As if his word is final, my father slides his robust, aging frame into the limo and punches the button to lower the window. Honest to God just like a legit Godfather, he motions with his fingers a silent command and Muscles obeys.
Screw that. I side-step him and his grabby hands, but just barely.
“You can keep your damn meaty hands to yourself, asshole. And you!” Despite the pain of rough cement on my bare feet, I whirl to face my father and grit through the pain. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and demand shit from me.”
I manage two steps before my arm is in a bruising vice grip.
“Stubborn, foolish girl. Just like—”
Renewed anger flares through me. I jerk my arm free. I stomp across the filthy, heated sidewalk and lower my face to the window.
“Like my mother? Is that what you were going to say? Is that what you told her when you walked out on her when I was only five? Leaving her to raise a kid alone in a city made for swallowing single mothers? Do you know how she put food on the table after you cut her off? Did you know about the men who I had to fight off almost nightly, wishing I had a father like my school friend to protect me? Do you? No, you don’t. How could you? You never cared enough to once check in on us. All you cared about was the next woman, the next gun run, drug deal. Am I getting closer to the truth?”
He gives me a look of bewilderment and blanches as if I reached through the open window and struck him across the face.
“Must be nice to have all the power in the world to just walk away when you don’t like something, right, Kane?”
I feel a wave of fury emit through the open window but something in his eyes has me swallowing my next tirade of insults.
Fear.
I see fear in his eyes and that’s when I notice something else. He is sweating, his hands white-knuckling the door where the window is lowered. A man I thought feared nothing and no one trembles. Eyes the color of mine dart to the far end of the street and that’s where I notice a black sedan with windows so black I can’t see who might be inside.
From the corner of my eye, I see Muscles going for his gun, his hand gripping my biceps in a crushing hold.
Oh shit.