Page 25 of The Desperate Warrior

“You’re entitled to your feelings,” he acknowledged in the tone of a mediator, “but you might change your mind when you hear the rest of the story.”

She flinched. The rest of the story? Despite herself, curiosity kindled in her breast. It was all she could do to keep her voice neutral. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Adrian told Brock that Trevor was bullying kids at school. He panicked. Brock was picked on in school and couldn’t stand the thought of his son turning into a monster. In the heat of the moment, he made the decision to go back to Adrian so that he could be there for Trevor on a daily basis.”

She shook her head, lips curled in bitter disbelief. What a crock! Why couldn’t Brock just man up and admit that hewanted out of the relationship? Why was he using his seven-year-old son as an excuse? Pathetic.

“But then Brock did some digging and learned that Adrian was lying,” Dad continued. “Trevor wasn’t the bully. Rather, he was the one getting bullied and retaliated. Brock called the school principal, who confirmed the situation. And that’s when he realized he made a mistake by letting you go. A big one.”

What was she supposed to say to that? She was speechless.

“Now he wants to make things right.”

“Oh, so now he’s had a change of heart?” she spat. “Just like that? What happens the next time Trevor stubs his toe? Will Brock go running back to Adrian again?” Hurt sliced her insides. She thought that she’d found the one. The joke was on her.

“People make mistakes. You need to give him another chance.”

“Not gonna happen,” she growled, her chest heaving up and down.

“Sweetheart, that man is crazy about you. And you’re crazy about him. Don’t let your pride get in the way of something wonderful.”

Tears bubbled in her eyes. She blinked to try to stay them, but they escaped through the corners and trickled down her cheeks. Hastily, she swiped them away. “What makes you so sure that Brock’s the one for me?”

He tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Call it intuition. There are just some things that I know. Like when to act on an investment opportunity.”

“I’m your daughter, not an investment,” she barked.

He threw her a superior look. “I knew that Zoe and Junior were meant to be together.”

She waved a hand. “Easy peasy. The two of them had been secretly in love with one another for years. This is different.” She touched her chest. “Do you really want your daughter to endup with a man who’s wishy-washy?” Her voice hardened. “One who’s going to tuck his tail and run at the first sign of trouble? One who has enough baggage to fill up an entire room of my house?”

“I don’t see Brock that way at all. I see a strong, determined man who was trying to do what was best for his son. Is he perfect? No.” He looked her in the eye. “But I do know one thing—he loves you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe love is not enough. Not this time.”

Several beats of silence stretched between them.

She wasn’t going to sit here and argue with Dad. “Look, I’ve got enough to deal with as it is. Having Brock here is too much.” She gritted her teeth. “You need to make him leave.”

Dad’s voice turned grave. “Honey, you and I both know how serious this situation is with Steve Randall. We can’t leave anything to chance. I have to do everything in my power to protect you.” He searched her face. “Do you really want to leave yourself open for that maniac to try something again?”

Chill bumps prickled over her arms. No. She didn’t.

She’d been having nightmares—distorted, shadowy images she couldn’t quite make sense of. Things she should remember but couldn’t. Maybe it was about the accident. Maybe it was something deeper. All she knew was that she’d wake up drenched in sweat, heart pounding. One night, Nikki had come rushing into the bedroom to calm her down.

Jules couldn’t fathom the thought of Steve Randall targeting her again. Next time, he might kill her. Shudders ran through her, and she felt vulnerable and powerless. She took in a breath, willing herself to get a grip.

“Brock’s the one who saved you, Zoe, and Junior that night when Nico Ventura’s goon broke into the condo. If it hadn’t been for him—” He broke off, shaking his head. “He’s the best, honey. You need him.”

She looked away, swallowing hard. Brock was extremely good at his job. Even Fitz and Charli—seasoned agents who could have their pick of almost anyone—had wanted to recruit him.

How well she remembered that fateful conversation. The one that imploded her world.

Dad was watching her with the patience of Job as if he knew that she’d eventually come around to his way of thinking. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll go along with this, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Good,” Dad said briskly, clapping his hands together. “It’s settled. Now I just need for you to be civil.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

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