“Don’t you pull your crap with me, Daddy!” I snap at my father.
“Emma McErlane!” he barks back. “Don’t you dare—!”
“Stop!” I shout, shoving a finger into his face. He blinks in surprise. “It’s EmmaCaraldinow, remember? And I don’t want to hear your bullshit, you great twat. Did you do it?”
“Do what?” He’s still feigning innocence.
“Do what?” I huff out, mimicking him as I shove a hand through my hair, glaring at him. “Did you and your merry band of cunts plant that bomb at Raoul’s warehouse?” My heart’s beating so hard that my blood’s surging fast enough to leave me lightheaded. Why the hell does this keep happening to me?
For a second, I think my father’s about to yell back, but when I weave and then buckle, he grabs my upper arms to support me.
“Jesus Christ, Emma, what the hell’s wrong with you?” he asks in alarm. “Are ya right, girl?”
I shake my head, eyes darting around for a place to sit. I didn’t think this through.
“I just… I just…” I pull in a breath and hate myself for the fact that there’s a shudder to it.
“Come, lass, let’s get ya sittin’,” my father says, leading me through to the sweeping living area. Well-worn leather creaks as I sink into an oversized chesterfield sofa. “Spit it out now,” he continues as he sits opposite me, pulling his chair close enough for our knees to brush.
“There was an explosion at one of Raoul’s warehouses,” I say. “He and one of his men nearly died. It was a miracle they didn’t.” My father sets his jaw for a second, then looks away. “Two clicks, Daddy. One as the mechanism was activated, the other as the explosive was detonated. Sound familiar?” He’s still not looking at me. “For fuck’s sake, Dad!” I yell now. “Do you think I haven’t been paying attention all these fucking years? That’s your fucking calling card!”
“Emma…lass…” He clears his throat, and then it seems as if something switches into place for him as he comes to a decision. “I did it for you. Surely you know that?” he admits.
“What?” My eyes are wide, horror building, though I’ve suspected he’s been planning something like this all along.
“You know I’d never leave you hitched to an animal like that, love. I’ve made mistakes; sure I did. But that was one I had to fix.” His hand is warm over mine when he clasps it, yet still, my blood feels cold.
“For me?”
“Of course, darlin’.” He clasps my hand tighter. “I know I’ve not been the best father in the world, but I had to make it up to you somehow.”
“By killing my husband?”
“But setting you free, lass. That whole thing was my fault. I’ve been so fucking wrong. I had to set things right by ya.”
“But what if I don’t want you to, Daddy?” I blurt. He stares at me for a second.
“What?” It’s his turn to snap the word out now.
“What if I want to stay married to him?”
“Jesus Christ, Emma! Are you hearin’ yerself now, girl?” he barks. “Why the bloody hell would ya want to stay tied to that dago gobshite?”
“Because I’m having his baby, Daddy.” The words are out before I can stop them. My father makes a strange choking sound.
“No!” he gasps, then leaps to his feet, pacing in front of me while shooting horrified glances in my direction. I stay seated, statue-still. “No!” he repeats louder. “But…but…” He runs both hands through his hair.
I give a tight little smile, probably laced with apology, since I can’t quite believe it either. He sinks back into his seat in front of me, taking my hands again.
“Are ya sure, love?” he says. I nod. “But you’ve only been wed barely two weeks, Em. How—?”
“We knew each other before, Daddy. From when…”
“You disappeared?” His mouth sets in a grim line. “If that man defiled ya, I swear, I’ll—”
“No!” I stop him abruptly, then rub my eyes.Defiled. He’s so archaic. It’s half the reason I’d deliberately avoided going into the details of my abduction. As far as my father knew, I went off on some rebellious jaunt because I was pissed at him trying to hitch me to his corrupt senator. Ironically, although he’s happy to assume the worst of Raoul, he had no qualms about palming me off to that sleazy politician. But now it’s time to come clean.
“I got picked up by Russian traffickers,” I say simply. Color floods my father’s face.
