Entwined with You(57)

“Eva.” His lips pressed hard to my temple.


“You look tired. When’s the last time you slept?”


“On the leg out of San Diego.” He pulled back and looked at me with gray eyes that were the same as mine. He searched my face.


“Do you have more luggage?”


He shook his head, still studying me.


“Are you hungry?” I asked.


“I grabbed something in Cincinnati.” Finally, he backed up and retrieved his bag. “But if you’re hungry … ?”


“Nope. I’m good. But I was thinking we could take Cary out for dinner later, if you’re up for it. He went back to work today.”


“Sure.” He paused with his bag in his hand, looking a bit lost and unsure.


“Dad, I’m okay.”


“I’m not. I want to hurt something and there’s nothing for me to hit.”


That gave me an idea.


Grabbing his hand, I started leading him out of the airport. “Hold that thought.”


12


“HE’S REALLY MAKING Derek work for it,” Parker noted, wiping the light sheen of sweat off his shaved head with a hand towel.


I turned to watch, seeing my father wrestling with the instructor who was twice his size, and my dad wasn’t a small guy. Standing over six feet tall and weighing in at two hundred pounds of solid, rippling muscle, Victor Reyes was a formidable opponent. Plus, he’d told me he was going to check out Krav Maga himself after I’d shared my interest in it, and it seemed he had—he had some of the moves down pat. “Thanks for letting him jump in.”


Parker looked at me, his dark eyes steady and calm in that way he had. He’d been teaching me more than just how to defend myself. He had also taught me to focus on the steps to be taken, not the fear.


“Usually I’d say class isn’t the place to bring your anger,” he said, “but Derek needed the challenge.”


Although he didn’t ask it, I could feel the unspoken question in the air. I decided it was best to answer it, since Parker was doing me a favor by letting my dad monopolize his co-instructor. “He just found out that someone hurt me a long time ago. Now it’s too late to do anything about it and he’s having a hard time with that.”


He reached down and grabbed the bottle of water sitting just off the side of the training mat. After a minute, he said, “I have a daughter. I can imagine how that feels.”


When he looked at me before taking a drink, I saw the understanding in his thickly lashed dark eyes and I was reassured that I’d brought my dad to the right place.


Parker was easygoing and had a great smile, and was genuine in a way that I’d rarely come across. But he had an air about him that warned people to tread carefully. One knew right away that it would be stupid to try to pull anything over on him. His street smarts were as obvious as his tribal tattoos.


“So you bring him here,” he said, “let him work it out and let him see you taking care of your own protection. Good idea.”


“I don’t know what else to do,” I confessed. Parker’s studio was located in a revitalizing area of Brooklyn. It was a converted warehouse, and the exposed brick and giant sliding loading-bay doors added to the atmosphere of tough chic. It was a place where I felt confident and take-charge.


“I’ve got some ideas.” He grinned and jerked his chin toward the mat. “Let’s show him what you can do.”


I dropped my towel over my water bottle and nodded. “Let’s.”


I didn’t see any of the uniformed parking attendants as we pulled into the underground garage of my apartment building. Since I wanted to do the honors myself anyway, that worked for me. I slid the DB9 into an empty slot and cut the engine. “Fabulous. Right by the elevator.”


“So I see,” my dad said. “Is this your car?”


I’d been waiting for that question. “No. A neighbor’s.”


“Friendly neighbor,” he said dryly.


“A cup of sugar. An Aston Martin. It’s all the same, right?” I glanced at him with a smile.


He looked so tired and worn, and not from the workout. The weariness came from the inside, and it was killing me.


Turning the car off, I released my seat belt and turned to look at him. “Dad. I … It’s shredding me to see you torn up over this. I can’t stand it.”


Heaving out his breath, he said, “I just need some time.”


“I never wanted you to find out.” I reached out and gripped his hand. “But I’ll be glad you did, if we can put Nathan behind us for good.”


“I read the reports—”


“God. Daddy …” I swallowed back a rush of bile. “I don’t want that stuff in your head.”


“I knew there was something wrong.” He stared at me with such sorrow and pain in his eyes it hurt to look into them. “The way Cary went to sit beside you when Detective Graves said Nathan Barker’s name … I knew you weren’t telling me something. I kept hoping you would.”