Page 51 of Chasing Honor

The thought of my hand smacking her ass had me inhaling through my nose, trying to calm my very perverted thoughts.

“You can’t say that to me.”

“I just did.”

“But—”

“Honor.” I heard from behind me. Her eyes left mine and she directed her gaze over my shoulder. The color drained from her face, and she sat up straighter. “If it isn’t my wayward daughter.”

Daughter? Honor’s father was dead. I scooted my chair back and stood. I couldn’t have been more shocked if Buck Sully had come back from the dead and was standing there himself.

Standing I said, “Congressman Harris.” When I noticed his son standing beside him I added, “Sam.”

“Officer . . .”

“Lenox,” I supplied.

“That’s right. Officer Lenox. Honor, aren’t you going to come say hello to your father?”

What the fuck? I shot a look at Honor and she looked worse than Carson did last night after she’d puked all over my parents’ patio. She stood, nearly knocking her chair over, then walked around the table and stopped by my side.

“Hello, Frank,” she offered.

“You know, your fiancé has been trying to get a hold of you. I must tell you, I’m disappointed in your behavior. I thought you’d have more class than to abandon your duties.

“Don’t you ever call him that again.”

Congressman Harris’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You seemed to have forgotten your place, young lady.”

He stepped closer, and I pulled Honor back. “I think it’s time you leave, Officer Lenox. This is a private family matter.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I informed him. Sam was still standing in the same place; his eyes had not moved from Honor.

“You will if you don’t want me calling your captain.”

“You can call whoever the fuck you want, but I’m not leaving here without my woman.”

“Your woman?” Sam spoke for the first time.

“What are you, a Neanderthal?” the congressman asked. “Disappointed, indeed, Honor. This is the type of man you consort with?”

“Please leave, Frank. I made myself clear when I moved out. I want nothing to do with you. Ever.”

“You mean, ran away. Leaving your poor fiancé to worry about you.”

Honor’s face went from white to red, and she snapped. “I told you to never to call him that again. I never agreed to marry that man. That was your plan. I told you then, and I’m telling you now, I will never, ever marry him. I don’t care about your political games. I don’t care about you, and I never cared about your son. Leave me alone, Frank, or I swear I’ll scream from the rooftops about what a piece of shit Congressman Franklin Harris really is. If you think I don’t have pictures of you sneaking your whores in before my mom was dead, you’re wrong. What do you think your adoring public would think about the hookers you brought home the night you buried my mother?

“Consider this our final goodbye.”

“You’ll be sorry.”

“The only thing I’m sorry about is that my beautiful mother married you. Stay away from me. Please take me home, Ethan.”

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to rethink your position.”

“You’re done.” I stepped between Frank and Honor. “She’s made herself clear. She doesn’t want to hear from you or your son again. You will respect that.”

“Ethan Lenox. I know all about you—low-class trash. You knocked up your high school girlfriend, dropped out of school shortly after, and later joined the police force. You do not want to go up against me. Cut your losses, kid, and move on. Honor has an obligation to this family. One she will fulfill.”