“Multitasking, I’m sure.” I stepped on the gas and prayed as I cut across lanes. “What’s a little calming distraction for your girlfriend in the midst of world entertainment domination?”
“I’d stop the world from spinning for you.”
That silly line oddly touched me. “I love you.”
“Liked that one, did you?”
I grinned, startled and pleased by his ridiculous sense of humor.
I was hyperaware of my surroundings. There were signs in every direction prohibiting everything. Driving in Manhattan was a fast trip to nowhere. “Hey, I can’t turn left or right. I think I’m heading for the Midtown Tunnel. I could lose you.”
“You’ll never lose me, angel,” he vowed. “Wherever you go, however far, I’ll be right here with you.”
WHEN I spotted my dad outside the baggage claim area, I lost all the confidence Gideon had instilled in me since I’d left work. Dad looked drawn and haggard, his eyes reddened and his jaw shadowed by stubble.
I felt the sting of tears as I walked toward him, but I blinked them back, determined to reassure him. Holding my arms open, I watched him drop his carry-on and then all the air left my lungs as he hugged me tightly.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, with a tremor in my voice I hoped he missed.
“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.”