His question trips me up, and I turn to look at him only to find him watching me closely, his eyes narrowed in that way I hate, as if he’s looking through me.
“No,” I grit out, annoyed. This isn’t about Kat; it’s about Vince. “But I’m sure she wouldn’t, even if she were. You know she’s too nice; look at how long she let Trevor press her and make her uncomfortable. Vincent is the man who drives her around and is responsible for her protection. Why would she want to make him upset?”
“I don’t know, Des. She seemed pretty grateful when he saved her from Carter.” Father sits back in his chair, still watching me, and I hear the challenge in his tone.
He doesn’t see it, but that’s okay. I can help him see it. This has been bugging me for a while now.
I move toward his desk, leaning down, I press my palms flat against the dark wood and look him in the eyes. “He’s the reason she needed saving. He never should have left them alone like that.”
“No, that fault lies with Carter and Trevor. There is no reason he should have been unable to leave them to go to the restroom.” He’s right, I know he is, but I don’t like it. It doesn’t matter, though; he still needs to go. Kat is ours, as in she belongs to usLawson’s, which he is not.
“Moving forward, I’ll have more men available so that if he should have to step away, they are not left completely unattended, at least until ourproblemis handled.” I didn’t need to ask to know what he meant by that.
Carter is the problem.
“He let him get away,” I growl, leaning further into his space, but if he minds, he doesn’t show it.
“He had a choice to make between comforting Kat and gunning down his car in broad daylight. For all we know, he could have given chase and left Kat, only for Carter to have someone else in place to take her. You might not like that he got away; none of us do, but Vince made the right call. The same one I would have made had I been there, but I wasn’t, and neither were you.” His words are sharp, his tone unwavering as he leans forward until we're damn near nose to nose. “I think the words you're looking for are ‘thank you,’ not ‘you're fired.’ Try showing gratitude instead of sounding like a spoiled brat. I raised you better than that.”
His words get under my skin just the way he intended, but I refuse to back down.
“Just because he did what he could doesn’t make it good enough. He clearly isn’t up for the task, and the last thing we need is for him to get distracted. What if they’d taken Addy? What if this had happened while Kat was pregnant?”
It’s a low blow. Something I don’t even want to think about because it’s enough to turn my stomach, but I know my father. If anything is going to make him see my side, it’s the idea of her being pregnant and even more fragile than she is now.
His eyes narrow, and for a second, I think I’ve got him, but as quickly as it happens, he wipes his face clean of any kind of reaction and once again reclines back in his chair.
“What’s this really about, Desmond?” His voice is tight, letting me know he’s still on edge, but it’s not enough. I knew it was a long shot, but I’d hoped to get him on my side.
With a curse, I throw myself back into the chair behind me, scrubbing a hand down my face.
“She’s not his,” I hiss, unable to hold my temper.
Father doesn’t respond, but I can feel his gaze on me, and I know he’s waiting for more. “Vince isn’t a Lawson, no matter how good of friends you two might be.”
“Ah, so you're jealous,” he says with a scoff that makes me feel like a child being scolded.
I’m not a child, though, and Kat isn’t a toy I want to keep to myself. She’s a woman,ourwoman, and it’s our job to keep others away. To keep her safe and protected.
“How is this just okay with you? Are you telling me that if we went out to dinner, and some guy was checking her out, you would just be okay with it?”
I watch his jaw clench and unclench and know I’ve struck a nerve.
Good, maybe he can understand a little better now.
“That’s not the same.” I open my mouth to explain how it’s almost exactly the same, but he holds up a hand, stopping me before I can. “But that would depend on a few things. Who that person was, whether we could trust them, and mostly Kat herself.”
He’s full of shit; I can see it all over his face.
I sit up in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees and pressing my mouth to my fingers that are steepled together in front of me, a wicked smile turning my lips.
“So you’re telling me if a man who wasn’t me, Alex, Oli, or yourself put their hands on Kat, you would be okay with it?” I watch him closely, so fucking closely that I see the way his eye twitches at just the thought.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Vince isn’t just a man at a restaurant, though, Des. He’s your godfather. The man who taught you to fight and ride motorcycles. I’ve known him longer than you’ve been alive. He’s almost as much a brother to me as Alex is.”
He gives me a pointed look, but I wave him off, leaning back in my chair again, draping my arm over the back.
