Page 15 of Trust

Money can’t be the only reason, though. It’s leverage, provocation. I’m a pawn in one of his dirty deals. Or maybe... maybe this is Dad. Maybe he sent someone to teach me a lesson and put me in my place, just to make sure I’m too scared to screw up again. It shouldn’t be possible, but it is. The way he looked at me that night, when he threatened to send me away, sticks with me. To him, I’m a liability, not a daughter, a headline waiting to happen. And he was right. If cameras capture what I did at the rally site, it doesn’t matter where I am. It’ll hit the news anyway. Everyone will see, and I will not only have him exposed, I’ll also have thwarted his plans to—gosh, I can’t think clearly with this music coming straight from inside my head. Even after I pull up my knees and block my ears, the heavy thrum still vibrates through my chest.

Before long, the road straightens out, and the volume finally drops. We must be out of the city now. Without a window or a clock, only the road thrumming up through the floor into my spine and the weight of my own thoughts remain. I soon lose track of whether time is dragging or slipping away.

Eventually, the van veers off the street and grinds to a halt. The music stops. The driver’s door opens and slams shut. Air catches in my lungs as I strain to hear what’s happening. My pulse picks up pace.

The lock clicks. The metal door swings open. I prepare myself for defense, expecting any woman’s worst nightmare to become my reality. The scream he stole from me earlier rises again, ready to break free.

Then he’s there, a bottle of water in one hand, a paper bag in the other.

“Hungry?”

JUST A JOB

Chris

She glowers at me like I’m about to lunge across the van and rip her apart. Not my intention. I set the bag down. It’s nothing fancy. Water, a sandwich and a protein bar. Enough to keep her upright.

I sit opposite her, leaning against the closed half of the double door.

Her calculating gaze settles on the opening.

“Don’t,” I warn.

Her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t budge.

I observe her without a word. She stares me down, suspicion etched into every line of her pale face. Although she must be scared to death, she tries not to show weakness. The tremor in her fingers tells a different story. Truth is, I expected screaming and tears the entire drive. She’s got steel in her spine. That’s going to be a problem.

When I nudge the food closer, she eventually snatches it up and retreats to the corner. Keeping an eye on me the whole time, she unwraps the sandwich and chews like she’s trying to bite through me rather than the bread.

“I don’t plan on hurting you,” I say, watching her reaction.

One brow arches. She doesn’t buy it.

“You’re a job,” I continue. “Hurting you isn’t part of it. But if you don’t behave, I’ll do what I have to. Make no mistake.”

She swallows slowly and puts her food down in front of her. “What’s the “job” exactly?” She puts the word in exaggerated air quotes.

“Family affairs,” I say, the words tasting sour. If that’s what family does to you, why would anybody want one?

That hits her. She straightens, her eyes narrowing.

“I knew it,” she says, sounding bitter. “He sent you.”

I don’t answer. She doesn’t ask for confirmation. She’s already decided.

Her fists clench around the sandwich nearly squishing what’s left. She shoves the last bites into her mouth, chews furiously, then sneers. “So what are you, huh? Security turned chauffeur with handcuffs, here to give me a scare and ship me off to boarding school?”

I let the jab slide for now, let her spit the venom. I’ve heard worse.

“You’re not going to school, princess. You’re staying with me so you can’t screw up daddy’s election.”

Her eyes go wide. Guess she didn’t expect that.

“I’ll make your life hell,” she snaps.

Knowing the truth makes her fiery again. She sits up straighter and meets my amused gaze with a defiant spark.

My eyes linger longer than they should. I shake off any inappropriate thoughts. I have no business seeing her as anything more than an assignment. My expression stays neutral. “You’re welcome to try.”