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“You’re right, I did,” he eventually says, chuckling now.
Kate frowns. “Did what?”
“Tell you not to let anyone walk all over you, and whilst I’d like to point out that I’m not walking all over you, merely protecting our motherfuckingname,” he scowls, giving her a warning glare that quietens the words forming on her tongue, “I’m your dad and I know this world better than anyone. Don’t act like a slut, or you’ll be treated like one.”
A slut?The fucking prick. “Carter,” I warn, unable to help myself. Kate’s no more of a slut than I am a fucking virgin.
“And you,” he says, turning on me. “Do your fucking job.”
“My job? And at what point haven’t I done my job?” I ask, as calmly as humanly possible because what the actual fuck is this bullshit?
“Grim has a name to uphold. You know that. Making friends with the strippers at Nine Lives and spending her time there spinning around a motherfucking pole isn’t what gets the job done, and neither is backing off from shooting the cunt who dared steal from us. Do. Your. Job!”
“Hisjob?” Kate blurts out, as shocked as I am.
One, I’m not her dad,he is. Two, fuck him if he thinks I’m the kind of man who will mold a woman to suit my needs. Admittedly, I didn’t like the thought of her dancing for another man, and am relieved to find out she was just having some fun with the girls, but who the fuck am I to tell her what she can and can’t do? Ultimately that ain’t my fucking business.
“You’re my eyes and ears when I’m not around to watch over her,” Carter continues. “Where the fuck were you when Grim was spinning around a pole, huh?”
Dragging your sorry arse out of The Crib Club, half-cut and ten grand down after losing a game of cards and shagging some top class pussy, I almost say, but hold my tongue. That answer will likely get me shot, and I’d rather not die tonight if I can help it.
“Noted. I’ll do myjobbetter,” I say, even though it grinds my gears to do so.
Kate shakes her head, barking out a laugh and earning a glare from me. I don’t need her going off about the fact I wasn’t really doing my fucking job when I danced with her at Macey’s the other night. I do actually want to keep my bollocks.
“Good!” He starts to move towards the door, then stops, spinning on his heels. “Actually scrap taking Grim home, you can start doing a proper job with her right the fuck now.”
“What are you thinking?” I ask, because let's face it, I’m on unsteady ground here. Who the fuck knows what he’s getting at. Carter has always had a short fuse, but I’ve never seen him go off on Kate like this before and I ain’t about to get myself fired for not reading his fucking mind correctly.
“Take her to the shooting range. Don’t leave until she can handle a gun.”
“I know how to handle a gun, Carter,” Kate protests, and she does. Carter’s been teaching her how to shoot since she was a kid. What happened the other night had nothing to do with her form and everything to do with the thoughtsI’dput in her head. “Carter, I know how to handle a gun,” she repeats.
“That’s what I’d thought. Only looks like you need a fucking reminder. Maybe you’ll pay more attention if Beast is teaching you instead of me?” he asks, looking between us.
Neither of us respond. Not sure what point he’s trying to make here, but I ain’t about to second guess that either. Pretty sure if he thought I was fucking Grim I’d be dead already.
“Don’t wait up. I expect it to be a long meeting,” he adds, before striding from the room.
The second the front door to the club slams shut, Kate lets out a frustrated scream and storms into the gym taking her anger out on the punch bag hanging in the corner of the room. Her fists aren’t wrapped and it isn’t long before she’s cursing the air blue from the splits to her knuckles.
“Not the wisest decision you made,” I remark, leaning against the wall as I watch her pace up and down in fury, her knuckles dripping blood.
“Don’t you fucking start! I was just having fun!”
“I wasn’t talking about you pole dancing, though I’d like to have seen that.” I smirk, and she picks up a discarded boxing glove and chucks it at my head. I catch it easily and drop it on the mat at my feet.
“Shut the fuck up!”
Biting back the laugh that threatens to spill from my lips, I approach her. “Let me see.”
“I’m fine,” she says, turning her back to me.
“You’re bleeding,” I point out, stepping around her. “Let me see.”
She huffs out a breath, and realising I’m not going to give up, holds out her hands. “What have I taught you?” I ask, gently inspecting her wounds.
“Clearly, I’m shit at being a student as well as a daughter,” she sasses back, hissing when I press on her middle knuckle that’s not split but clearly tender, and will no doubt bruise.
