Page 19 of His Assistant

He shakes his head and wipes at his eyes. “It shouldn’t be a daughter’s job to do this kind of thing,” he replies. “I never meant to put you in this situation.”

“That’s just nonsense,” I tell him. “You’ve done so much for me my whole life, this is just me returning the favor.”

He finally nods and motions to hug me, then stops himself when he realizes how dirty his coveralls are.

“Raincheck on that hug.” He chuckles.

There’s a knock on the garage door, redundant since the door is up, and we both turn to see two men walking in. Whatever relief Dad was feeling instantly vanishes at the sight of them. His face goes white and his muscles tense.

“We’re about to close,” he tells them in a tense voice. “You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, Marco,” one of the men answers in a smug voice. “We didn’t come to have work done.”

As he’s speaking, the other man knocks over Dad’s tool tower. The metal tools clatter to the ground with a sickening clank that makes us flinch. I don’t know who the hell these men are, but I have a feeling they’re connected to the mountains of collection notices he’s been hiding from me.

My pulse starts pounding so loud I can hear it. I desperately want these men to leave, and to do it without hurting my father.

“Pick that up,” I tell them in a much braver tone than I feel.

“Leave it, carina,” Dad mutters to me under his breath.

“Aren’t you a brave one,” the first man asks. “Is this your pretty little daughter, Marco?”

“Leave her out of this,” Dad hisses defensively.

“She’s the one who’s trying to get involved,” the man responds, stepping into my space while the other man moves behind me, crowding me in.

“I’ve got your money,” Dad says in a harsh tone. “She’ll pay you right now, just don’t hurt her.”

“Aww, poor little Marco needs his daughter to pay his debts,” the second man says.

He’s so close behind me I can feel his breath on the back of my neck. My stomach turns. These men could hurt both of us, and there’d be nothing we could do.

“And where did you get all that money to pay what your father owes, sweetheart?” the first man asks, reaching to my side and grabbing my work badge from the side of my purse. I hadn’t realized it was sticking out.

Something shifts on the first man’s face. His jaw clenches and he steps back. He looks over my shoulder at the man behind me and casually shakes his head. I feel that man step away too.

“It seems we’ve come at a bad time,” the second man says from behind me. His voice is so deep and so loud in the small space, it nearly makes me jump.

“Don’t worry, though,” the first man responds, keeping his eyes on me. “We’ll be back another time. When your daughter isn’t here to protect you.”

The threat washes over me, leaving me cold.

They slink back out the door and Dad immediately shuts and locks it, still looking pale. When he’s finished, he turns back to me.

“Are you okay, carina?” he asks hurriedly.

I shake my head. Even though I’m physically fine, the encounter’s left me shaken.

“Who were those men, Papa?” I ask him tersely.

He sighs. “We’d better talk.”

We walk back to his place in silence. His head hangs low and his hands won’t stay still. It’s only three blocks, a walk I’ve made so many times I could do it in my sleep, but tonight it feels like a thousand miles. When we finally get there, he drops heavily onto his couch and looks at me with repentant eyes.

“Who were those men?” I ask again in a tight voice.

“They’re just neighborhood thugs.” He shrugs.