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My size was enough to make anyone nervous, but when he doesn’t hightail it out of the room, I feel the tiniest grudging respect for him. Because I know he’s staying because of his daughter.
Nevertheless, she’s mine now and I protect what’s mine.
“You’re Brock Sinclair,” he announces, a thick sliver of wariness creeping into his voice. “You’re supposed to be behind bars.”
“Hmm, you must have dropped the ball there, counsellor, because I’ve been a free man for over two weeks, no thanks to you.”
He swallows, unease creeping into his eyes. “What are you doing in my house, and what the hell are you doing with my daughter?”
“Looking for you, to answer the first question. I think the second is obvious.”
Fury mottles his face, and he scrambles into his pocket. “You know what? I’m calling the police. I’ll let them deal with this.” His gaze shifts to Goldie, then flickers away.
I glance behind me. And yeah, with her sex-tossed hair, my rough handling marks on her neck and shoulders and her puffy red lips, she looks thoroughly fucked. Just like a true honey like her deserves.
I do regret the embarrassment I’m causing her though, so plant myself between her and her father, and I reach for my jeans.
“You might want to hold off on that until we’ve had a chat.”
Fletcher laughs. “In what world do you think I make time for chats with low-life ex-cons?” He continues dialing, then lifts the phone to his ear, smug glee lurking in his eyes.
“In a world where you knowingly buried evidence so you could get a longer conviction just so you could pad up your résumé for when you campaign for higher office. And you better watch it with that low-life jab. I wasn’t a low-life when you set your fucking sights on me. I may have a criminal record now thanks to you, but I sure as hell am not a low-life now either.”
The icy blade of my voice finally gets through to him. His fingers tighten on his phone, but he ends the call.
When his suddenly nervous gaze darts to his daughter, a growl erupts from my throat.
“Don’t you fucking look at her. Get the fuck out of her room. I’ll come and find you when I’m dressed.”
With another furious but wary look, he turns on his heel and leaves. I take a breath and turn around.
Goldie is curled into a ball on the bed.
I tug on the rest of my clothes, then sit on the side of the bed, run my hand over her hip. “Are you okay, honey?”
She lets out a laugh tinged with hysteria. “My dad just walked in on me naked with a guy in my bed, and you two are growling at one another like grizzlies about to throw it down. Who on earth is okay with that?”
I brush the hair back from her face and drop kisses on her temple and cheek. “It’s not ideal, I know, but he’ll just have to deal with it.”
Her gaze finds mine. Searches. “Areyouokay? You sounded really…angry just now,” she whispers.
I take great comfort in her concern. Maybe this whole thing isn’t going to shit after all.
Either way, I sure as hell am going to fight for her, whether her father plays ball or not.
“Yeah, I guess I’m a little more on edge than I thought. I need to talk to your dad now, honey. Will you stay put right here?”
“Okay.” She grimaces. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eye for a while, anyway.”
That pisses me off even more. “Hey. You did nothing wrong. He should’ve fucking knocked. And like you told him, you’re a grown woman.” If I have my way, her days under his roof are numbered. And I fully intend to have my way with Goldie Fletcher. Own her, body, mind and soul. “And if he has a problem with it, he’ll have to deal with me.” I lean down and kiss her bruised-red lips. “Stay put. Okay?”
She nods. “Okay.”
I stand and head out.
I suspect Fletcher didn’t head for the kitchen, so I look in his study first and sure enough, he’s behind his desk, furiously tapping at his laptop.
“Whatever you’re looking for on there, it’s not going to save you.”
