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Sitting under the shadow of a tree, I keep my eyes on the road that snakes up the hill toward the city.
I know what car my daughter and her friend are taking. I know what room they’re staying in. I know what time they’re arriving.
Even if much of the world thinks I’m dead, I’ve kept in contact with a couple of my military buddies so that I can keep tabs on Lena. I have access to her laptop and I’m able to track her purchasing history, meaning I can see where she’s going to be.
I know she’d kick my ass if she ever found out about any of this. I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of my daughter brimming with rage, ready to take on the whole world.
I’ve purposefully not allowed myself to see photos of her, because I know it would trigger my parental need to be with her. The thoughts would creep into my mind, telling me the only way to keep her safe is to return to America, and then the whole thing would come crashing down.
But since she’s in Europe, I can take a look, just one look to assure myself she’s doing well, she’s safe, she’s alive. I know all of this, of course. I know about her book deal and how she’s here to research her second novel.
Knowing it and seeing it are two different things, especially when it’s my blood we’re talking about.
Scanning the cars that pass by – my eyes focused on their license plates – gives my mind too much time to wander. This is a dangerous game when you’ve lived through what I have.
First, there was the war, three tours served in Iraq, and then there was my martial arts business. I was doing damn well at that before I decided to try and get a bit of extra cash, getting greedy instead of letting my business build slowly, methodically…
Hell, it’s in the care of my business partner – Jocko – right now, just waiting for me to reclaim my share once I return, and it’s doing amazingly well, meaning Lena wants for nothing. She could have her own apartment if she liked, but I think she enjoys living with her best friend.
Shame pricks at me when I struggle to remember her name. I should be able to remember something that’s so important to my daughter.
What was it?
Clara? Kitty?
No, Kelly, that was it.
Kelly Jones.
She was a fixture at my house when Lena was a kid, a nervous smile on her lips, always with a blush on her cheeks. I remember her as a frumpy little thing with a pink karaoke machine she never let go of like it was a part of her.
Most of the cars which drive into the city head straight up the hill, but suddenly one stops in front of me. A quick glance at the license plate sets my heart thundering in my chest.
It’s the same make and model that my contact said it’d be.
Standing up, I dart behind the tree, for once cursing how big I am. But luckily the thick tree trunk is just about big enough to shield me from view. Even so, I can’t resist peering around the corner to see just what the hell they’re up to.
And there she is…
There’s my daughter, still wearing her jet-black hair in a tight ponytail, still with that conquer-the-world smirk on her face. People say she shares my smirk, that we’re similar in many ways… at least, they used to before I had to disappear off the face of the earth.
“Are you sure, madam?” the driver says, sticking his head out of the window. “It is hot. I can drive you.”
“I want to walk up to the silent city,” she declares, and her voice sends warmth moving through me. “I might have my characters take a romantic walk up this very road.”
My daughter, safe, alive, enthusiastic, and ready to take on the world.
“There’s no point arguing with her,” another woman says, climbing from the car.
I stare hard as I wonder who this is and why I wasn’t notified of another passenger.
My thoughts spiral when I think about the deadly possibility they sent this woman in her place, as I wonder how this person convinced Lena to come with her…
“Kelly, come on.”
Lena marches over to the trunk of the car.
“Madam, madam, let me.”
I move behind the tree, fully out of view, as the word bounces around my head.
Kelly?
As I listen to the driver helping them with their suitcases, I struggle to match the name with the woman herself.
When I last saw her, Kelly had a mouthful of braces and she looked half her age, like a little girl, giving no hint at the woman she’d become.
But the woman I just laid my eyes on…
Fuck, my cock is getting hard just thinking about her, stiff at the base, tension moving up and down my length like any second I could explode in feral fury.
