Page 42 of Rough Daddy
"You really left the shop for this? I thought that was your life. Your home?" she says quietly.
I stroke my thumb over her knuckles where our hands are linked across the console. "Same thing you'd do for Ethan."
"That's different. Ethan's my family."
"And you're mine now. Which makes him mine, too."
The certainty in my voice seems to settle something in her, but I can see the worry still eating at her.
"What if he doesn't want to come? What if my parents..." She trails off, fear creeping in. "They're not going to just let him go, Beau. He's their... their asset."
"Then we convince them otherwise."
"You don't understand. They're not reasonable people. Everything's about money, control, image. Ethan and I were never their children. We were their retirement plan."
My grip tightens on the wheel. "And what happens when that plan stops paying off?"
She goes quiet at that, and I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.
The GPS announces our exit, and her whole body tenses.
"What's the play here?" Panic starts creeping into her voice. "I can't just take him. They won't let me. And Ethan... he's scared of change. He's never lived anywhere else."
"We start with a visit. A couple weeks. Let him see what a different life can be like. He can see you happy." I keep my voice calm. "Then we figure out the rest."
"A visit?" Hope flickers across her face, then falters. "I don’t know, you haven’t met my parents. They are going to use him to keep me there. They know how to use leverage.”
"We’ll see about that. You’re the one paying the fucking bills. You have the power, baby. Not them."
The house comes into view. Perfect suburban facade, expensive cars in the driveway. There's a black Range Rover that looks like it just drove out of a showroom.
The way Tessa's breathing has gone shallow, I know she’s preparing for battle. Every protective instinct I have is screaming at me to shield her from whatever's waiting in that house.
"Where's Ethan's room?"
She points up to the second floor, and I look up to see a figure silhouetted against the light, looking down at us.
"He knows we're here," she says, relief flooding her voice. "He's waiting."
"Course he is. Kid's been counting the hours." I turn to cup her face. "We’ll bring him home. You ready for this?"
"No. But let's do it anyway."
The front door opens before we ring the bell.
Richard Quinn stands there in a thousand-dollar suit, looking like Central Casting’s idea of a successful executive. I recognize Tessa Quinn’s business manager and father from my research... also known as stalking.
But I can see the stress in the tight lines around his eyes, the way his jaw's clenched like he's bracing for impact. Maybe he’s smarter than I thought.
Behind him, a woman who must be Tessa's mother hovers in the hallway. Same bone structure as her daughter, but where Tessa's beautiful, this woman looks brittle. Hollow. Like someone who's been performing for so long she's forgotten who she really is.
"Tessa." Richard's voice is carefully modulated. He throws me a one-second glance, then back to her, but I note the tick that twitches below his eye. "You look... different."
"Dad." She steps closer to me, and I feel the slight tremor in her hand. "This is Beau."
His dark eyes, so much like hers, return to mine. "Mr...?"
"Boone." I don't offer my hand. We’re not here to play nice. Besides, if I got his hand in mine, knowing what I know, I’d break it. Not only did this man spend years turning his children into products—and I can see exactly what it cost them—he also scared my baby girl into thinking she was in real danger.
