Billionaire Protector - Alexa Hart Page 0,69

proxy, neither are you when you’re with her. I will be stationing a bodyguard outside of the supply store. And I will not take no for an answer. Do you understand me?” My father had grown incredibly stern now, and waited patiently for my response.

“I’m not gonna push back against that, Dad. Not if she’s still in danger from this jackoff.” I couldn’t stop staring at Timothy Fisher’s face.

“Penn.” Even now, he wouldn’t accept the language.

Unbelievable.

“Sorry. Jerk. Better? Is there anything we can do about him?” I wanted the motherfucker behind bars. Yesterday.

“Oh, Penn. There are many things we could do about him,” Dad assured me. Something about his tone was alarming. It was the first time I’d ever heard my father sound... dark. “But first, you should talk to Anne about him. She may have actual legitimate charges to press against him.”

“And if she doesn’t?” I stared at my father hard.

He looked back at me calmly. “Then we’ll take care of the situation a different way.”

I knew what his words were possibly insinuating, but it seemed wise to leave them alone. For now.

“Okay. I need to go.” I stood, gathering all of the papers into one stack. “Thank you, for this.”

He nodded. “We’ll protect her like our own, Penn. I daresay someday she might be one of us anyway.”

My head whipped back at him when he said this, but there wasn’t time to respond.

I needed to get to Anne... Valerie? I needed to go see her now.

I nearly flew down the stairs and out the front door. My shitty truck was parked next to my family members’ sleek, shiny collection of ridiculousness. Before I could quite reach it, Preston emerged out of what seemed like fucking nowhere.

“Penn! Hold up!” He jogged towards me, which looked ridiculous as he was in his usual suit and tie.

“What do you want?” I still wasn’t past his little “conversation” faux pas.

“I was just gonna say I’m sorry. I mean, I did call it like I saw it – I meant what I said to Anne. But I guess I didn’t have to say anything at all. I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t my place.” Pres searched my face for signs of forgiveness.

“I’ve got bigger worries right now, Preston. I need to go.” I started walking again.

“To see Anne?” He called after me.

Anne. Valerie. Someone.

“Yes!” I shouted back.

“Is everything okay?” Preston sounded genuinely worried, and Pres was never worried about anything.

“Everything’s fine!” I jumped in my truck, turned the engine, and took off down the lane. I could explain later. This wasn’t about Preston.

I’d never been much for speeding. I was definitely more of a cruiser – a take it easy type of driver. Even in the city.

But today I bolted down the highway like a NASCAR enthusiast gone wrong. Fast wasn’t fast enough. I was worried about Anne. Really, really worried.

And to top it off, my conversation with Dad, while completely necessary and incredibly eye opening, had made me late for our “date”. I figured I could make up a few minutes on the road, but it looked like my arrival time was going to be at least fifteen minutes later than it should have been.

Shit.

And I couldn’t even call her, which was maddening. Getting Anne a phone was at the top of my priority list, right after ensuring she was no longer being hunted down by that nasty, psychopathic piece of shit.

Kate’s was dark when I pulled up. Definitely closed. The sun was low in the sky, and Corydon’s nearly non-existent downtown was creepier looking than normal. The atmosphere itself seemed... off. Dark.

Menacing.

Keep your shit together. It’s all in your head. You’re just worked up about all the information you had pushed your way.

I cringed. Anne was going to kill me when she found out I’d played a part in her life being pried into. More than ever, I wished I was a good liar.

But I’m just not.

Anne would know I’d looked into her background because I would openly admit it.

That was Penn Hardick, take it or leave it.

I tried to exit my vehicle and walk up the stairs to Anne’s apartment in a normal, “I’m not worried about the girl I love being stalked down by her dead ex’s nutjob brother” manner.

I wasn’t sure exactly how much trouble I was in for being late, but I’d find a way to smooth that out. We had way more important issues to discuss.

Like, can I call you by your first name or should I