Page 131 of Crash Course
"Goddamnme!" she roared. "All I’ve done for years, years, Dad, is save you from yourself. Try to keep you from making potentially devastating—and illegal—mistakes. Now, I won't help you. Knowing your company is polluting Morgan—and probably other communities if the chemicals have leaked into ground—and doing nothing while ten-year-olds get sick? Disgusting, Dad!"
Now it was Dad’s turn to step back. She’d done it. She’d stunned him. Fired back at the bully and silenced him.
Satisfaction filled her.
As was typical, he recovered quickly, stabbing that finger at her again while his face morphed into an ugly purplish hue. "Have you lost your mind? Igaveyou yourlife," he thundered. "Ihandedyou a career.Mycontacts put you on the map. Withoutme,you’d still be stacking cases in the prosecutor’s office. You spoiled, ungrateful little bitch!"
Cilla gasped. Couldn't help it. Horror smothered her. He may not have physically struck her, but he didn’t need to. His words did more than enough damage.
Once again, she steadied herself, digging her heels into the floor and stiffening her spine. "You may have sent clients my way, but I did the grinding. Staying up all night prepping for trials. I won't let you take credit for that."
Movement in the hallway caught her attention. Cruz. Striding toward them, his big body moving fast, his features like granite.
"Getting loud in here," he said, looking straight at her. "You okay?"
"She’s fine," Dad said. "Go back to the office."
At that, Cruz halted. His arms hung loose at his sides, but the rest of him? The stiff shoulders and focused gaze were tight, tight,tight.
And that terrified her.
He’d told her about his past. His love of fighting and his parents’ desperate move of getting him into wrestling.
She took a few steps, positioning herself midway between Cruz and Dad. Just in case.
Slowly, Cruz cocked his head. "Mr. Randolph, I don’t take orders from you. I also wasn’t talking to you."
Go.
Cruz.
Dismissing her father, he faced Cilla. "Are you all right?"
Oh, Cruz Blackwell, I might love you.Finally, a man not intimidated by the mighty Darren Randolph.
"I’m fine. My father was just leaving."
Dad’s face twisted. Nostrils flaring, he gritted his teeth. "We’re not done. And as soon as I find out what you leaked to Allison Caplin, I’ll be back. You better not have done something we’ll both regret."
"Whatever I’ve done, Dad, I’ll never regret. And by the way, I bought office space. I’ll be moving out of your headquarters by the end of the month."
"Well," he said, "you have been busy." He flung a hand in Cruz’s direction. "Funny how this guy comes into your life, and you’ve suddenly gone rogue. Trust me, Cilla, a good lay won’t get you anywhere. Ask your mother."
Horror and a hefty dose of humiliation sent heat to her cheeks. Who the hell was he? Not the father she thought she knew.
"That’s it," Cruz said, "this is done."
Wait. Hermother? What did that mean?
"My God," she said, "you truly are disgusting."
Cruz headed straight for Dad and no, no, no. She would not have the two of them screaming—or whatever else Cruz had on his mind—at each other in her home.
She stepped between Dad and Cruz, placing one hand on Cruz’s chest and pushing him back. "Arguing won’t help. Dad, I think we’ve said enough. Please leave."
He spun from her, stomping his way to the door, the rage flying off him like machine-gun fire.
At the door, he stopped and turned back. "Get your things out of my building by the end of the month. Otherwise, you’ll pay me rent. You’ve gone too far. You betrayed me. And that’s not a place anyone has ever found pleasant."
