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“I know. I know.” I’m whining. Daddy’s girl. He’ll keep me safe.
That won’t do. I can’t falter now. Anger flares as I skirt around him and barge into the house.
“What are you doing?” he asks, panic in his voice as he follows me into his office. “You’re covered in blood. Let me take you to the hospital.”
I slam open the top drawer of his desk, rifle around, shifting papers, pens. A stapler jars my pinkie finger, sending a streak of pain through it. I solve the problem by hurling the fucking thing away from me and enjoy the satisfying explosion of the glass from dad’s trophy case. But my search yields nothing. It’s not there. The next drawer then, and the other one – neither hold my prize.
“Evanee!” dad shouts, startling me from my single-minded quest.
I jerk my head up. “Where’s the key?”
He stares at me in shock. “I’m calling the police.”
He reaches for the phone on his desk, but I get there first, grabbing it and flinging it across the room. The cord whips from the wall and spirals after it.
“Where’s the fucking key?” I scream.
“What key?” Dad’s voice matches my volume, but his face is slack, not angry. He’s scared.
“The key!”
He knows what I’m talking about. He’s stalling.
Settle down, Evanee. Take a breath.
I swallow air, expel it, then I remember.
Dad stumbles as I shove him out of my way and head downstairs.
He clambers after me. “Evanee. I don’t know what you’re planning, but if it’s Casper—"
“Casper?” I stop dead and stare at him. “Trigger!” I bark. “That man’s worth ten of you.” Tears start as realization hits at how close I came to dying. My brain’s on a reel now, an image of my broken body lying in the rubble, damaged beyond repair. Seeing Trigger holding me, rocking me. Dying inside. Our world destroyed. “He’s the reason for everything! He loves me. He supports me. He believes in me. Don’t you fucking dare talk to me about my man.”
Dad presses his lips together as he stands motionless, watching as I jerk open a tall cabinet, then a drawer within, pulling out the key I’m looking for. “I didn’t mean—”
“You didn’t mean what, daddy? To treat me like a child? To demean me? To refuse to acknowledge the path I wanted to take?” I’m ranting now, but this discussion is long overdue. “Who the fuck do you think you are, that you interfere with my dreams? Playing god with the bankers. Calling the police. Pretending you care about me then undermining me?”
Dad scrubs at his face. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so serious.”
What bullshit! “I didn’t go to veterinarian college on a lark.” I stab my finger into my chest. “I worked my ass off! Did everything in my power to graduate.” My body shakes as my fury peaks. “This is who I am! Accept it or go to hell!”
He’s standing between me and the gun cabinet.
“Get my out of my way,” I snarl as I bulldoze past him.
“Evanee,” he implores. “You’re hurt. You’re covered in blood, cuts, bruises. You’re limping. This is madness.” He swallows. “Let me call Casper to come get you.”
“Do whatever you want,” I snap as I consider my choice of rifles. I yank out a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun with a four-round magazine, then grab as many boxes of shells as I can carry. Arms full, I sprint back upstairs. “I don’t have time for your father-of-the-year bullshit.”
He shouts my name as I jog to my Beamer, throwing the boxes of shells on the seat beside me and setting the shotgun on the floor.
Dad didn’t do this,I tell myself,and the asshole feds are too subtle. They don’t blow buildings up.No. It was the Blackbeards. The pretty-boy VP and the Enforcer’s faces swim in my mind. Yeah, they did this.
Now it’s my turn.
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
Trigger
