Page 102 of Caged

My boss talking back to my father, after showing deference only a moment before almost made me laugh.

John ruled the office, and his family, with nothing more than a firm tone of voice. But that wouldn’t work on my father, a man accustomed to having his orders followed before he finished giving them.

Neither man was easily intimidated, and while John would show my father every respect, he wouldn’t back down when it came to his family.

I squinted to watch their body language, but my eyes felt like I’d rubbed them with sandpaper—blurring everything and preventing me from seeing the nuances I needed to assess the energy between them. The last thing I wanted was for my father and my boss to butt heads.

My father’s nod, as he dismissed John, was big enough for me to see.

John’s acknowledging nod was just as big. “We’re right outside if you need us, Cate.”

Again using my first name.He’s never called me Cate.

Duh, he couldn’t call me Maxwell when there were two of us in the room.

Shit.He knows I’m awake. My eyes snapped up to meet John’s.

“Thank you, sir,” I croaked out just above a whisper.

I hated sounding so weak but nothing in my body was working as well as it should.

My father turned around so he didn’t see John wink before he left.

“Hi, Dad,” I said.

“How much did you hear?” He asked, as he hurried to my side.

Reaching for his hand, I said, “I’m glad you’re here.” Lacking the physical or mental strength to sound stoic, my voice hitched with emotion as tears threatened to spill over.

Never comfortable with feelings, he changed the subject.

“You seem more alert. How are you feeling?”

“Not painful, but weak.” Moving too much or too fast reminded me of my wounds, so I mostly laid still.

He chuckled at my awkward sentence. “The doctor said you’ll heal faster if you’re not in pain, so they’ve had you on a steady dose of morphine.”

When I tried to talk but coughed instead, he picked up a cup of water and held the straw to my lips bringing back memories of the rare times he’d comforted me when I was sick or hurt as a little girl. Reminding me that his distance wasn’t because he didn’t care, but because of his duty to the Corps.

The water soothed my parched throat as I sucked it down like a man possessed.

He pulled the straw away, causing me to drool on my chin. “Slow down.”

I nodded, but wanted more so I reached for the cup. Dad forced me to drink slowly, so it took a while but I finished every last drop. Sadly, the water did nothing to alleviate the hunger that made itself known with a loud rumble.

“I’ll page the nurse and ask her to bring you something to eat.”

While he did that, I wondered how long it’d be until Jay cam back. I had to make sure he was okay. Was he shot, too?

The vivid memory of Franks firing at Jay sucked the air from my lungs.

“She’ll bring you something in a few minutes.” Dad’s voice cut into my thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just bad memories.” I focused on my breathing to bring my heartrate back to normal, which slowed down the infernal beeping.

“I’m here if you want or need to talk.”

“Thanks.” Then, despite not wanting to hear the answer, in case it was only a few hours, I asked, “How long are you staying?”

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