Page 34 of Thrilled By Her Protector

“Zircon, did you read the brief I sent?” Mother asked.

“Yes.”

“Then you understand the task?”

“I do.”

“Good. Miss Dylluan, check your email. We’ve sent your father’s contact information. I need you to set up a meeting with him. Bring him in, that is your goal.”

“What about Lyra?” Zircon asked.

“Your brothers are on it. We’ve had the GHA and, more specifically, the scum Jonathan Dylluan has been selling Shifters to, under surveillance for months. The location of the warehouse where they hold their prisoners has just been confirmed. Jasper, Heliodore, Larimar, and Medjed are on their way now?—”

“Why wasn’t I told? I am their handler,” Jennifer growled, visibly angry.

“Because, Miss Dylluan, I am in charge here. Now, we’ve been waiting to find their supplier before taking apart the GHA. Your father is that supplier. His work as a trucker allows him to prowl the country, looking for prey.”

“Just like a serial killer,” she muttered, and closed her eyes on a wave of pain.

“Yes. Exactly. But the human law enforcement agencies have not caught on to him yet. That is why it is imperative we get him first.”

“I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen my father in years. And you’re sure he is their supplier?” Jennifer murmured, her throat constricting on the words.

“Yes. The evidence is conclusive.”

“I’m sorry, Jenn,” Zircon whispered, and she heard the truth in his voice.

It felt like the walls were closing in on her. After all this time, after all he’d done to her and her mother. Was she ready to confront him? To play the part of the daughter just looking to reconnect? Jennifer was a kid the last time she saw him. She didn’t know if she could handle pretending to give a shit at this late date.

“Fine. Yes. Tell me everything you know.”

“Okay. Jonathan Dylluan, though he goes by the alias Dillon Johns.” Mother said.

“Jenn, you don’t have to do this—” Zircon interrupted, but she ignored him.

“Miss Dylluan is a professional, Mr. Wessex, and we’ve already sent the initial contact in her name. You just need to wait for his reply, then make a plan to meet. But I must ask, are you sure you are up for this?”

Mother turned to face her, his expression blank. Anger filled her. Fuck. She didn’t know if she was up for that or anything else, but so what? It was her job. Jennifer wanted to rage against both overbearing males. She’d worked too long and too hard to not be respected at her place of work.

“Yes, sir. Like you said, I am a professional. I will let you know when he’s made contact,” she growled with fierce determination.

She did not bother to look at Zircon as she pushed past him. She scrolled her email for the brief with her father’s contact information. After decades of silence, she was finally going to talk to the man who’d sired her. Bile rose inside her throat, and she cursed before sprinting to the restroom.

One of the perks of being a Shifter was having a topnotch immune system. Jennifer hardly ever got sick. Hell. She couldn’t remember the last time she threw up. NO, that wasn’t true. She did remember.

It was the time Caro thought she could make them chicken wings during a sleepover and wound up giving them both salmonella after putting the cooked chicken back in the same dish where she’d placed it when it was raw.

“Are you alright?”

The softly whispered question dragged her attention back to the present. That was when she realized she was no longer kneeling in the ladies’ room, but rather, she was being cradled inside a pair of enormous arms.

Zircon carried her to the sink, sitting her on the counter before running a wad of paper towels beneath the faucet. He let the water run for a few seconds before using it to wipe her face and clean her mouth. She was so shocked, Jennifer didn’t move for a second.

His pellucid gaze bore into hers, and she swore she saw remembered heat flickering behind the crystal blue. That was about all she could take of that, so she looked away a second later. She was still too ashamed of the way she offered herself, too hurt by his rejection.

“We need to talk, Jenn,” he started.

“Not now. Conny. Excuse me. I have to brush my teeth,” she murmured, pushing off the counter and going to grab her spare toothbrush and paste.

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