Depends on Who's Asking - Lani Lynn Vale Page 0,2

of the truck.

She must’ve answered because Michael looked up expectantly and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a car pull in. He pointed at the parking spot next to mine and then met her at her car door.

My breath left my lungs when I saw her jump out of the car and throw herself at her father.

“Daddy!” she cried.

He caught her up in his arms and held her tight. After hearing what happened, I was unsurprised to find her body shaking violently.

I tried not to notice how fucking adorable she looked but couldn’t stop myself from checking her out.

She was short and curvy. Her shapely ass was covered by buffalo plaid leggings, and she had a skin-tight black turtleneck that was plastered to every inch of her body, showing off delicate curves and generous breasts and hips. Her hair was midnight black, so black that it matched the color of her turtleneck.

Then her eyes turned to me and I felt something inside of me shift at her attention.

She had light blue eyes the color of the sky on a sunny, cloudless day.

“Tell me what happened, baby,” Michael ordered.

I lost her eyes then, and I felt like something in my chest all but deflated at the loss.

“I was driving home from Red’s house when I saw flashing lights come up behind me. The thing was, I passed the car on a side road as I was pulling out onto the highway, and the unmarked car didn’t look anything like any other car that I’d ever seen before. So, I became suspicious and called you, just in case. When you told me to leave, I put the car into drive, and that’s when the guy started shooting,” she explained. “I didn’t see much.”

Her eyes flicked to me when I growled.

This was the third such event I’d heard of in the last week of a fake officer pulling people over. This girl, Caro, was lucky that she didn’t end up like the others—hurt badly and robbed.

“He followed me until I pulled past the police station. Then a bunch of police cars surrounded him and forced him to pull over,” she explained. “Daddy, I have holes in my brand-new car!”

She whirled around in her dad’s arms, and he was forced to let her go. She stomped directly toward me and then pushed me out of the way with her hand on my hip so she could point out the bullet holes in her car.

“I just paid my first car payment!” she wailed.

I backed away warily, looking at her as if she was about to break.

She might’ve been.

But she was also pissed.

Once she was done pointing at her car, she turned then, surveying me.

“Who are you?” she asked. “And why are you bleeding all over the place? Go inside and get that taken care of.”

My lips twitched.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said quietly.

I started to walk away, but she stopped me before I could even get five feet. “You didn’t tell me your name!”

I turned around, found her gaze with mine, and said, “Saint. Saint Nicholson.”

Caro narrowed her eyes.

“Saint Nicholson.” Caro tilted her head. “Is that a joke?”

I shook my head. I fucking wished it was. But it wasn’t.

“No. I wish to God it was. But no.”

Then I was once again heading back into the ER to get my wound looked at.

It was as I was breaching the doors of the hospital that I heard Michael say, “Leave him alone, Caro. Now, what did this guy look like?”

The doors closed behind me, cutting off her reply.

• • •

Walking into the duplex that I lived in two hours later, the very last thing I wanted to do was deal with my father.

Yet, my phone rang anyway.

And, like the dumbass I was, I chose to answer it instead of ignoring it.

The one and only time I’d chosen to ignore a call from my father, he’d been in a car wreck. Ignoring it had been bad because I’d had to find out that he was injured by a secret service agent showing up at my door in the middle of the night to let me know.

“Hello?” I grumbled as I poked around in the fridge.

“Son,” my father’s deep voice growled. “How are you?”

I felt my eye twitch. “I’m not coming home. And I’m not quitting.”

My father sighed. “I need you here. At my side. This looks good for me and my reelection.”

It might.

But I seriously didn’t give a fuck.

“And?” I asked.

“Son,” my father said. “You’re not going to