Page 71 of The Stolen Dagger
So why the hell was he claiming to help me and not threatening me to hand over the dagger to him? Who was he working for?
As if he saw that question written plainly across my face, Mack answered.
“Your father sent me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
KATHERINE
“How much longer?” I asked Mack from the passenger seat of his truck.
It had been about sixteen hours since I had decided to trust the man who had been stalking me for the past week.
Mack was a man of few words, but he explained he only did what he did because Hunter had arrived in town. He said it was his way of warning me to stay on my guard without actually revealing who he was.
Either way, he apologized for the library and the encounter on the side of the road. He said he wasn’t seasoned with using a gentle approach for “collecting” someone.
Choosing to believe Mack was the better of two evils, I agreed to go with him, and we were now on our way to Las Vegas.
I shifted in my seat, unable to keep still with all the nervous thoughts swirling inside my head. But could you blame me? I was on my way to see my father.
Myfather.
The same man who raised me, to an extent. The same man who also left mom and me five years ago, which was right about the same time we found out she had cancer.
I guess running away from your problems runs in the family.
Looking back, I had been furious with him but also heartbroken. I couldn’t even remember the last thing I had said to the man I called Dad before he disappeared out of my life for good.
Or so I thought.
According to Mack, my father had been looking for me for the past year. When he learned about Adrian and me, and the dagger being in my possession, his search became more imperative.
But his desperation to find me because he was my father was harder to believe than anything else, seeing as I hadn’t talked to or even seen the man in years. I didn’t buy his “concerned dad” act for a second.
And that was exactly what I would tell him when I saw him.
My thoughts turned then to Drew. Did he find the letter I left him? He was probably angry at me for leaving.
I wanted to call him when we left, but Mack explained it was better that no one knew where we were at the moment or where we were going. Word might get back to Adrian, and the element of surprise was the only advantage we had.
At the moment, Adrian thought I was still in Oklahoma.
“We’re here,” Mack announced.
We were still about thirty minutes outside Vegas as Mack pulled onto a secluded back road that led to my father’s house.
No, not a house. A fucking mansion.
I gaped at the three-storied Spanish-style mansion that came into view. The exterior was a cream rock-like finishwith a clay-tile rooftop. I counted at least four balconies just on the front side of the house with wrought iron detailing.
The structure stretched so expansively that it could have had its own zip code. Even though I could only see the front of the house, I was sure the property went on for miles.
“My father lives here?” I asked, voicing my thoughts aloud, but Mack answered anyway.
“What did you expect for a man of his … stature?” Mack asked, sarcastically. “A two-bedroom with a view?”
“Well, no, but this is …”excessive.
