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Lincoln
What is he doing here?
This was just what I needed. Another audience member. One from whom I’d never hear the end of this.
He stepped out with the grace and agility of a man half his age. Never mind he’d recently suffered a massive heart attack. If he was in any pain, he masked it well.
The back door of the SUV opened, and his looming figure appeared.
I thought these vehicles were supposed to be secure to transport prisoners.
Nothing could stop my father. Not a locked door. Or even near-death experiences.
“Release him.”
The laser gaze that was as familiar as my own was squarely on me. But the harsh words were for the agent in the front seat.
The weasel squirmed, and as much as I wanted to look down on him for that, I couldn’t.
Samuel Hollingsworth was intimidating.
His presence commanded that what he wished be done . . . immediately.
I’d worked with my father for more than twenty years. I’d lived in his shadow for forty. The only person who’d ever come close to resisting him was my brother, and even he’d failed for a time.
“I-I can’t do that, sir.” The agent’s voice shook.
I dropped my head back to lean against the headrest. If anything aggravated my father, it was fear.
He let out an annoyed sigh. “It’s simple. Put the key in the lock of the cuffs and turn.”
What is he doing here?
Instead of gratitude, the question reared itself for a second time. If—no, when—my father got me out of this, there would be a price to pay. No deed was charity, not even for his own son.
What will I owe him for this?
Instead of dwelling on the unpleasant, my gaze drifted out the windshield. To the woman who might actually have a bigger bark than my father. Was her bite as vicious as that mouth?
Everyone else was focused on the man whose blood ran through my veins. Except her.
That green gaze pierced through the glass straight into me. A steel wall wouldn’t be thick enough to keep me from feeling it.
She saw through me.
She wasn’t intimidated.
And she wasn’t afraid to be honest about the fact that she didn’t like what she saw.
Most people clamored for my attention.
Money and power had that effect.
Even if behind my back they called me an asshole, they wouldn’t dare do it to my face.
Lexie was the exception.
Her bold dislike was . . . interesting.
