Page 17

17

DADDY ASA AURA

Jack

I saw it right before it happened.

Had I not been looking, I’d be dead.

A car so nondescript and basic, I didn’t even know how to describe it to the police other than dark but not black, small but not too small, and with four doors. It happened too fucking fast. And the only reason I remember what I do is because there were two barrels pointed toward the front of my house. One through the front window and the other from the back.

Yeah. Two.

You know, in case one wasn’t enough to get the job done.

Well, it turns out when you know it’s coming, two isn’t enough.

I dropped to the floor heavier than an anchor. The only thing I could hear through gunfire and glass breaking were Emma’s cries through the cell that fell next to me.

It seems my century-old brownstone brick was built to withstand the test of time.

And drive-by shootings.

The original antique windows … not so much.

And my home, the only one I’ve ever owned—the one I bought based on pictures alone the moment it came on the market and paid top dollar for—is a fucking disaster.

Cops are everywhere. Up and down the street, in and out the front door, and collecting every bit of evidence they can find. I found the one spot on the main floor to sit that isn’t shot to shit or covered in glass.

An EMT cleaned the gash on my hairline where I hit a table on my way down. She said it could use stitches, but it’s borderline. I told her I’m not going anywhere. There’s no way I’m leaving my house the way it is.

I hear commotion from outside, which is easy to do since there are no windows.

“Sir, you can’t go in. No one can. This is an active crime scene.”

A deep voice—one I recognize and was afraid of in my youth—is just as firm and authoritative as I remember. “Son, my security clearance goes back before you were born. The U.S. Government says I can enter the premises, and she’s coming with me.”

“But—” the cop starts to argue as I pull away from the EMT and turn toward the front door.

“Dude,” another cop jabs him. “Did you see his credentials? You don’t argue with that shit. You step aside and let him do what he wants.”

Asa Hollingsworth demands attention when he walks into a room.

Normally I’d give it to him.

Daddy Asa’s aura is that commanding.

But not when she’s in the room.

All I see is Emma being ushered in with her father’s arm around her shoulders.

Her olive skin is ghost white, and her dark eyes are swollen.

The moment our gazes meet, tears form. That’s when I lose her dark eyes.

She stops in the middle of the room, glass crunching under her winter boots. They’re the same ones I bought her to wear to the parade to keep her warm.

Her face falls to her hands where her body wracks silently.

The EMT tries to get my attention. “Sir, I’m not done.”

“You’re done,” I mutter and go straight to Emma.

I had no idea she was holding it in until I wrap her in my arms. Her tears and sobs flow freely. I’ve never seen her like this.

I put my lips to the top of her head. “Shh. It’s okay.”

She shakes her head against my chest. “I can’t believe this happened. I was so scared. I thought…”

“Hey.” I dip my hand in her hair and tip her head back to look at me. She might be more of a mess than I am, and I just survived a drive-by shooting. I’ve hardly been able to think about what that means. I did call Brett after the police got here and told him to stay put and not to think about going home. “You warned me. It’s the only reason we’re standing here.”

Asa breaks into our dramatic moment. “Hold up. What did you say?”

My attention is pulled from the woman in my arms to her father. But that doesn’t mean I let her go. If anything, I hold her tighter as Asa Hollingsworth crosses his and spears his daughter with a glare.

“You told me what happened. It seems you left some stuff out.” He points between the two of us. “But we’ll get to that later. What you did not seem to share with me is that you warned him this was going to happen. How in the hell did you know that?”

“I can explain—” I start.

But Emma interrupts, and her tone is firm and clipped for her father. “Not now. I’ll tell you, but not here.”

Asa glances around the rubble that was once my home. “We had an hour in the car on the way here. You didn’t think that was a good time to share?”

“I’ll tell you everything later,” I say and lower my voice so no one around us can hear. The moment the words come out of my mouth, Emma presses into me tighter. “Whatever happened tonight was directed at my client. Very few people knew that he was supposed to be here. The suspect list just got very short, but I need to regroup. I’ll tell the police when the time is right, but I’m not sure that time is now.”

Asa drags a hand down his face before looking around and shaking his head. “You have cameras outside?”

“Yeah. Detectives already have the recording. The shooters wore masks. There weren’t plates on the car. Seems this wasn’t their first rodeo.”

“Send me that video. Then we need to talk.” Asa focuses his gaze on Emma. It’s not scary, but it is serious. “And you need to tell me everything.” He glances at me before turning back to his daughter. This time he sounds exhausted. “And I mean everything. Does your brother know about this?”

Emma wipes the tears from her face. “No.”

Asa’s head falls back and stares at my ceiling, which oddly enough is the one spot in my house that is still in good condition.

One thing to be thankful for.

“That’s going to be interesting,” Asa mutters.

Emma ignores him and looks up at me. “You’re coming home with us.”

Asa’s exhale reeks of more drama than it has a right to. It’s not like he was shot at tonight. If anyone has the right to be melodramatic, it’s me.

But I’m too tired for that shit and focus on Emma.

“I can’t leave my house like this.”

“I’ll make a call,” Asa offers. “We’ll get it boarded up tonight. You can deal with insurance tomorrow. If whoever did this thought your client was here, you can’t stay. You can…” He jabs at the screen on his phone and puts it to his ear. “Sleep on the sofa.”

“See?” Emma’s eyes brighten a touch as she does her best to form a small smile. “You’re coming home with me. I’ll pack you a bag while you deal with the police.”

And she proves she doesn’t give a shit what her dad thinks of me or me being with her. She presses up on her furry boots and presses her lips to mine.

Her kiss is a balm after the shit I just experienced.

And I want more.

I cup the back of her head, hold her to me, and take over the kiss. Her hands frame my jaw, and my hold on her turns into a vise.

I can’t get enough, and it seems she can’t either.

“Thanks,” Asa bites out louder than necessary to whomever he’s talking to.

The last thing I want to do is let go of Emma, but her father is glaring at me.

Emma licks her lips before pushing away. “I’ll pack you a bag.”

She bypasses a slew of cops and hurries up the narrow staircase.

I turn to Asa and listen to him finish his call.

“There’s a stack of plywood in the back barn. Bring all you can with the tools and more cameras and do it fast. You can start as soon as the officers give you the all clear.”

He disconnects his call, and there’s something reminiscent about him that makes me feel like I’m eighteen and got caught kissing his daughter in the barn.

Not that that happened.

Thank God.

He turns square to me and rests his hands on his hips. “I’ve got a team coming. They’re going to board up the place and put more cameras up. It’s a busy street, so we’ll have to set the sensors close to the house, but we’ll know if anyone tries to fuck with the place.”

The emphasis he put on fuck did not go unnoticed.

I cross my arms, impressed and only slightly intimidated. “You’ve got a team? A whole team?”

He lifts his chin. “I do.”

That’s it. No further explanation.

For all I know, he could coach a lacrosse team of second graders. He was my first coach back in the day and made me run since I was the one always fucking around.

Daddy Asa has me locked in a zone. But I’ve already survived a drive-by tonight. What’s the worst that can happen?

His son is my best friend, which should give me some leeway, even if I am fucking his daughter, even though he doesn’t know that.

Yet.

“This team,” I start. “Do they normally clean up after shootings and install surveillance?”

“They install surveillance all the time. I make sure they’re damn good at what they do, but…” Asa pauses on that thought and looks around before leaning in so close, I fight the instinct to step away. I win the battle only to hear his next words delivered with more force than the bullets that took out my windows tonight. “They’re usually the ones doing the shooting. Remember that.”

He takes a step back and offers me the scariest smile I’ve ever seen before slapping me on the shoulder so hard, I struggle not to rock to the side.

“And I do not want to fucking think about why my daughter knows where your shit is to pack a bag for you. I don’t care how old she is. That said, I’ll do anything for my kids. The sofa is yours for as long as you need it.”

I clear my throat. “I appreciate it.”

“Mr. Hale?” I turn to find the cop in charge waiting to talk to me. “We have a few more questions.”

“I’ll let you get to it,” Asa pipes and slaps me one more time. “I’ll just stay out of your way while I wait for MY DAUGHTER .”

Well, fuck if he didn’t say that in all caps.

Asa goes straight to the window to look at the damage. Even the cops give him a wide berth.

“Hey, isn’t that the chick who interviewed Brett Sullivan?” the cop asks.

I sigh and turn to him. “Yes. Can we get this done? I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

That last part is a lie.

I’m not telling them shit about the Founders, or the fact the dried-up quarterback who was put out to pasture by the team should be high on their suspect list. He might not have pulled the trigger, but I’d bet my retirement fund that he made the order.

We need to get this figured out fast. I’m not sure how long I’ll survive sleeping on Asa’s sofa after I just learned he has an entire team who probably takes orders to do illegal shit. And I doubt they think twice when doing it.

Brett’s SUV was shot to shit tonight. So, for the time being, it looks like I’m homeless and relying on Daddy Asa to carpool me around.

Helpless is a fucking heavy word and has an all new meaning tonight.