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He seemed as startled to see me as I was him. "Hey, I know you," he drawled.
"No, you don't," I contradicted haughtily.
He sure as hell didn't know me. He'd never have the privilege, I swore to myself.
"I do too," he said, unfazed. "You're Scarlett Theroux. I hear all kinds of stuff about you. Quite the little charmer, I hear. Raising hell since you was li'l. Not much diff'rent than your mama."
He smiled. He was beautiful, but I hated his face on sight. "Not much diff'rent than your papa, either."
"Both of my parents are dead," I said, for lack of anything better. They were certainly dead to me.
He laughed. "Oh, you think so? I think you're full o'shit. You know damn well who I am, don't you?"
I glared at him, but I didn't answer.
"I'm your daddy. You knew that, right? You're prolly not too keen to hear that, but it's the truth. I can see the Davis blood in you, too. I hadn't heard about that. Folks only been tellin' me how you're the spittin' image of Renee. And I can see that. But I see me in you, too, no denyin' it.
"But I guess you don't care 'bout that, huh? You done all right for yourself, I hear, livin' up at old lady Durant's fancy mansion." I hated the way he spoke, slow, each word drawn out insinuatingly. Also, he sounded like a hick.
"What do you want?" I asked him. Clearly, if he'd actually wanted to be my dad, he wouldn't have waited for an accidental grocery store run-in to introduce himself.
He grinned, and I hated that it looked strangely familiar to me. "You're in high school, right? That can come in handy for me. You interested in making some money, girl?"
I started to leave without another word.
He stopped me with a grip on my elbow. "Now, now. It's good money. You wouldn't have to beg the Durants for charity no more. Don't you want a bit of cash of your own? I'd make sure it was all cake work. I'd just need some things, small packages, delivered to your classmates, yeah?"
"Get your hands off me, you piece of—" I snarled at him.
"Hey, now. It's Daddy to you."
Just when you don't think you can hate yourself any more—and then you find out you come from even worse white trash than you thought—yeah, that's where I was sitting.
His smile turned unpleasant. "Got a little attitude on you. I shouldn't be surprised. You know who else had one? Your mama. Didn't turn out too well for her, I hear."
That stopped me in my tracks. "What is that supposed to mean? Do you know where she is?"
He laughed and it was mocking. "Can't say I do, but I have heard things. Maybe if you were a little nicer to your old pa, I'd tell you some of the things I've heard about your mama."
I tugged my arm free of his hard grip. "What are you suggesting?"
"How about you come up to my house with me? I have a nice little plot of land, and seeing as you're part of the Davis clan, I think it's time you come have a look. When we're there, I'll tell you what I know about where Renee, your mama . . . ended up."
I was not nearly as dumb as he seemed to think. No way in hell was going anywhere with him. Ever.
I opened my mouth to tell him that when I was interrupted.
"Jethro Davis, how about you leave this nice young lady alone before I find something to arrest you for? I'd guess I wouldn't have to look much farther than your pockets if I wanted to get you for possession, yeah?"
I shuddered. This day was getting worse and worse.
I'd just been saved from my lowlife father by the only person I could possibly want to see even less than him.
Jethro couldn't get away from me fast enough after that.
And then I was left with Detective Harris. He gave me his deceptive smile. "What a coincidence. How'r you holding up? That had to be a shock, what your—Is he still your boyfriend?—did to that homeless guy. I hear he's managed to find a way out of it, though. Congratulations. It's amazing what money can do, especially when you're dealing with a D.A. who's hoping to have a long political career ahead of her."
"It was self-defense," I said, voice and face hard. "Everyone has a right to defend themselves." I said this the same way I'd said it a hundred times before, with stony resolve. I was used to defending what Dante had done. I'd never stop defending it, because I knew he'd done it for me.
