Servicing the Target (Masters of the Shadowlands #10)(98)

Her snort drew Travis’s attention, and he bumped his shoulder against hers. “What’s got you so quiet, sis?”

She shrugged. This wasn’t the time or place to indulge in a complaint fest.

Seated across the table, her cousin overheard. “She’s pouting because I run the recovery team now and she’s off completely. Or maybe it’s something else. You on the rag, cuz?”

Her mother gasped at his coarse insult.

“Shut your mouth, Robert,” Travis snapped.

Touching her brother’s arm, Anne shook her head. Rancorous discussions didn’t belong at a birthday dinner, and her mother’d put in long hours on the party.

“Tell you what,” Robert announced. “The guys were f*cking happy to finally having a man leading them.”

The rodent wasn’t going to shut up.

Harrison growled, “Jesus, you’re so full of—”

“This discussion is more appropriately conducted at the office, not at a celebration,” Anne interrupted before things could get out of hand. “I’ll discuss this on Monday with the owners.”

“Thank you, darling,” her mother said, looking relieved.

Her father frowned. “What the hell is—”

“No need to wait.” Robert said. “About everyone here has been involved with the company at one time or another. I bet they’re interested in how you’re always trying to shove your way into running everything.”

She eyed the rat. “I didn’t have to shove my way anywhere. I built that team from scratch and ran it because I have the education, experience, and skills to do so.” Still hoping to salvage the dinner, she didn’t add, “all of which you lack.”

Harrison growled, “Exactly.”

Perhaps her cousin had heard the part she left out. He glared. “You don’t have anything that I—”

“Enough.” Her What-the-Fuck Meter zoomed past orange and into red. “You took the team because you can’t stand taking directions from a woman. You’re not a leader because you’re better, but because you went crying to your daddy—which you do whenever you don’t get your way. I realize it’s difficult to man up when your equipment is the size of peanuts, but do give it a try.”

Robert turned purple.

Travis inhaled beer, making appalling sounds on her right. Most of the relatives were roaring with laughter.

Not all.

Her father leaned forward and raised his voice over the noise. “Russell, you’ve removed Anne from fugitive recovery?”

“Since Robert is quite capable of leading the team, I decided to make the change.” Russell’s florid complexion was heightened; his jowls quivered with anger. “I’ve never been comfortable sending a woman into combat, so to speak.”

Anne choked her response back. Why fight to remain as team leader when her pregnancy would sideline her soon anyway? But, she’d worked her hardest for her uncles and to make her team the best. Being booted out…

It hurt.

Robert gave her father a sincere look. “A woman is far too liable to get herself killed. And a wanna-be cop doesn’t have what it takes.”

“A what?” her mother asked in surprise. “She’s not—”

“Robert has his head up his ass,” Harrison interrupted, frowning at Matt. “If you don’t recall, you and Russell hired her so she could bring in her law enforcement experience and train your agents. The team was her idea and creation. And she’s why you have the highest recovery percentages in Florida—and the lowest insurance rates.”

“That may be, but recovering skips is still no place for a woman,” Matt said.

She’d known Uncle Matt had qualms, but he was the one who’d recruited her. Now—because of Robert—he’d changed his mind. The betrayal was another small ping of pain in a growing avalanche.

When Travis started to speak, Anne shook her head at him. No point.

What a disaster. She needed to get their attention and quiet this mess. This was her father’s birthday party, not a venue for a verbal brawl. She held up her hand. “Uncle M—”

“I must say, I’m relieved. I never wanted my girl working recovery and endangering her life for a few extra bucks. It’s just not safe.” The words came from the head of the table.

From her father.

She turned to look at him, feeling as if he’d picked up the knife sitting beside his plate and plunged it into her heart.

Robert could manipulate his father into anything—because his father believed his child could do anything.

Her father was the opposite.

She’d tried all her life to be competent—outstanding—in any task, especially the ones traditionally assigned to men. She’d succeeded.

But her father, the one who should have believed in her and supported her, didn’t.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She pushed her chair back.

“Anne, no,” Harrison whispered.

She felt Travis grip her arm and shook him free.

“You win, Dad.” Shoulders back, chin up, she faced her father. “You’ve made it clear over and over that you don’t think I can be as good at anything as your sons.”

Her father’s face went blank. “Anne—”