Page 110 of Intrepid

“So, you want to scare the shit out of your dad. So he’ll do what? Flee?”

“Yeah. Why not? I don’t know the scope of Tesarik’s power. All I know is my father fears him. And whatever Tesarik fears.”

“Tesarik fears getting shut down. Losing money. His power.”

“Then, I’m certain my father will be pissing his pants when he finds out some savvy hackers have gotten their hands on that ledger.”

“You’re a conniving little mermaid, you know that? No wonder Ty’s all messed up for you.”

“What …. What do you mean, messed up for me?”

“Dipshit wouldn’t look me in the eye when he talked about you.” Dax pointed at his own chocolate brown eyes that complemented his dark hair and olive skin tone. “Eyes don’t lie. And he had a dimple in his cheek to top it off. Bullshit sundae with a cherry on top.”

I chuckled and dropped my gaze from his. “Well, going after my father doesn’t exactly make for a great start to a relationship.”

His lips thinned as he ran his finger over the plastic cup cover. “Nah, I guess it wouldn’t. But who knows? Hope’s a fickle bitch sometimes. Personally, I’ve never been much of a fan. But fate? Now, she’s the real deal.”

“I don’t think you can have one without the other.”

“Ah, that’s not always true. You can wish and hope all you want, but there is no escaping the one. No matter what. If it’s meant to be, it’s gonna happen.”

I smiled and took a sip of my coffee. Unfortunately, fate and I didn’t always have the best rapport.

* * *

I pushed through the door of my apartment, exhausted and in dire need of sleep, in spite of the coffee I’d chugged. So many thoughts swirled inside my head, I didn’t have the mental power to grasp a single one.

Coming home to quiet had become a depressing idea since rooming with Bea. Initially, I’d hated the noise and the constant distraction, but I could’ve used it right then. I had no idea how long it’d take my father to realize the ledger was missing, and of course, having given me the key, he’d immediately know who’d taken it.

I was certain if Dax had been privy to how little I actually meant to Karl Kutscher, he probably wouldn’t have requested it. Giving me the key had nothing to do with his trust, or love, for me. It was no different than strapping a bomb to a child and pushing her into the line of fire.

Anyone looking for the key, if they wanted it badly enough, would surely come after his only daughter.

My thoughts drifted back to Shawn, my heart aching with sadness. How he must’ve looked at me, living in that mansion, seemingly doted on by the man who’d thrown him away. He could’ve killed me that night, but I prayed maybe he saw a small glimpse of his own pain. The fact that Karl had used the media to portray himself as a distraught father might’ve told Shawn what he’d needed to know—my father didn’t give a shit about me, either.

The only reason he’d bothered to keep me around was to give him the much-needed humanity he appeared to have lacked in the public eye. They’d begun to paint him as a monster sympathizing with other monsters. I became his prop, the one thing he’d reference whenever fingers pointed in his direction.

‘I understand your fears. I have a young daughter myself.’ His favorite line when addressing the accusations in press conferences. Always made me sick to hear him talk about me, as if he’d ever given any thought to the fears that plagued loving parents.

Heading toward the bathroom, I stripped out of my clothes along the way, tossing my shirt and jeans into a hamper. I flipped on the shower, letting the steam roll over the top, and reached back to pop my bra.

What sounded like a thud beyond the bathroom door made me pause, chin angled high, as I listened for any further movement. I glanced around me, searching for anything I might use as a weapon, and scrambled for the leather case under the sink, slipping Bea’s haircutting scissors from their sheath inside.

Another thump shot panic through my muscles, and I rose slowly, slipping into the robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door, and the pair of boots propped against the wall that I hadn’t bothered to put away the day before. Doc Martens served as an effective weapon when used properly.

While the shower sprayed on, I tucked the scissors against my chest and tiptoed toward the door, resisting the urge to call out for Bea. Wrapping the robe tight across my front, I continued on through the doorway, into my bedroom, eyes searching for the source of the noise.

Cold steel lifted my chin. A blade propped at my throat.

My body went corpse stiff, my throat dry as a carcass in the hot sun.

“Hello, Sera.” The familiar voice rippled down my spine, drawing a crimp from my lip.

“What do you want, Dane?” I growled, tightening my grip of the scissors still clutched in my right hand.

I didn’t give him the chance to respond, but drew back my fist and pounded the sharp steel tip into what I assumed was his thigh. The blade fell away from my throat at the same time his scream shattered against my ear.

He bent forward, and I slipped out from under him, stopped short by his grab of my ankle. “Little bitch!”