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"You're not my fucking father." When he just smiled his evil smile, I whimpered. Breathing hard, I tried to concentrate, calm myself so I could rationalize my way out of this. "What do you want?"
"I want you to open the door and let me come inside like a big, grown-up girl before we garner the attention of all your neighbors."
"How about you just leave me the hell alone instead?"
He made a tsking sound with his tongue and shook his head. "You owe me more than that."
My jaw fell open. "Like hell."
His eyes hardened, but his smile remained calm and pleasant, which
always meant I needed to be on my guard the most. "You're still on our insurance plan, you know. How do you think you paid for that hospital bill of yours?"
Oh, God. I hadn't even thought of that. I was such a stupid, stupid girl. I'd been so sure I'd severed all ties with Bradshaw and Madeline Mercer. But I'd missed one of the biggest cords.
"Or were you planning on reimbursing me?" Shaw went on. "With your babysitting salary? Three weeks in NICU's not cheap, you know."
Giving up the pressure I was applying to the door, I regretfully stepped back and let him enter Pick's apartment. He passed over the threshold, looking ridiculously out of place in his slick, Gucci suit. After sending a dismissive glance over the front room, he smoothed his hand over his blazer and turned to me.
I folded my arms over my chest and glared. "Do you accept payments?"
Here came the evil, calculating smile I was so used to. "Why, yes, I do. But not in monetary form."
When his gaze settled over my milk-laden breasts I couldn't keep completely hidden under my arms, I snorted. "You're still a disgusting old lecher, aren't you?"
With a sigh, he shook his head sadly, clearly disappointed in me. "And here I'd come to thank you for the gift you sent me."
"Gift?" I frowned, instantly suspicious.
"What? Don't you remember sending Patricia Garrison my way a couple months back?"
Oh, shit. My eyes flew open wide. I had no idea the rapist of Mason would actually follow my advice and approach my father. This was not good. Two evil people like that, teaming up—
"I very much appreciated the toy, sweetheart. But I'm afraid I may have broken her."
"You . . . ?" Dear God almighty, what had he done to Mrs. Garrison? Wait. I didn't care. If she was broken—whatever that meant—hopefully she was out of the way forever.
"Some ladies just can't take a little rough treatment. They certainly don't make women as hearty as you and your mother every day. Eventually, the others always give up the fight and let me have my way. But not you. Never you. I still remember the way you'd glare up at me with all that fire and spirit in your eyes and your chin held high after I bent you over—"
"Please don't tell me you're here just to reminisce because I'd rather vomit all over your pretty new shoes." In fact, I just might anyway. But hell, if I'd known being defiant when he'd molested me had only turned him on more, I would've curled up into a ball and cowered like I'd always wanted to.
My skin was cold and my nerves were strung out. I didn't know what I'd do if one of the babies woke up. I did not want this monster anywhere near Skylar or Julian.
"What the hell do you want from me?"
"I want you to come home, of course."
I snorted. "You're delusional. I'm never stepping foot in that place again."
He spread his arms and laughed. "You'd rather stay here? With the metal-faced, tattooed idiot? Really, Eva? I don't buy that."
It made my stomach churn all the harder to realize he knew who Pick was. He probably knew every secret Pick had and how to hurt him. Oh, God. What had I gotten my sweet, innocent, metal-faced, tattooed boy into?
Lifting my chin, I sneered, "Pick Ryan is a hundred times the man you could ever be."
My statement only amused him. Then it struck me how he liked it when I was bold and defiant. I instantly stepped back, scowling.
"Why do you even want me? You kicked me out remember? Because of Skylar? And what about her? Or are you still planning on trying to make me get rid of her?"
