Chapter Nine #4
before Charlotte,” Damon threatened. “I’m sure he has some stories.”
“We are not talking about ourselves,” her father
interrupted. “We’re talking about Vivian. It’s different, and she needs to be
protected from men who would use her. She’s brilliant about many things, but
not about men.”
Oh, her father was asking for it.
Her uncle actually leaned back as though he could feel the
energy shift even through the computer screen. “I think you should shut up now,
man. She’s not eight anymore, and she looks as mean as her mama.”
“Dad,” she began, leaning over so her face would fill most
of the screen. “I love you.”
Her father looked far more wary now. “I love you, too.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I don’t know that you respect me
very much,” she replied.
“That’s not true,” her father argued. “I respect the hell
out of you.”
She shook her head. “Not what the evidence says. You taught
me that. You taught me that no matter what people say, it’s their actions that
matter. Let’s talk about those. You’ve been completely supportive of everything
my brothers want to do. Cooper wants to fly fighter jets in the Navy? So proud.
Hunter wants to learn small aircraft piloting in some of the world’s most
rugged terrain? That’s your boy. Cooper wants to join a CIA team with the girl
he loved in high school but won’t give him the time of day? He’s got a good
head on his shoulders. He knows what he wants. Hunter wants to spend all his
savings on a plane? Do what you have to do, son.”
“It wasn’t like that,” her dad sputtered.
She kept going. “But poor, pathetic, weak Vivian wants to go
on one op. She’s done all the training and has all the backup, and it really
must be about a guy. She couldn’t possibly want this for herself.”
“You never…” her dad began.
Her uncle coughed and leaned over, whispering something her
dad’s way.
“She was a child when she said that,” Dad argued.
They were talking about the time when she was thirteen and
reading books the older kids were enjoying, too. Books about kids going to a
spy academy. It had sparked her imagination. “I was thirteen, and you told me
over your dead body.”
Her dad swallowed before replying. “I was joking.”
“Were you? Because I heard you talking to Mom, and that’s
why I never said another word,” she admitted. “I knew you didn’t think I was
strong enough.”
Her father had the grace to flush. “I did not mean that. I
just… I watched what happened to your mom.”
She knew the story, and he was warping it. “You mean when
she was attacked by a man you were investigating? She wasn’t in the field. She
was in her own home. Should I not be in my own home?”
“You’re twisting this,” her father insisted. “I am only
worried about you. I know Oliver is a good operative, but he doesn’t care about
you. He’s going to be loyal to the mission.”
“Well, I assure you, Mr. McKay, that my only mission is to
ensure Vivian comes out of this unharmed,” Mal announced.
“Why should I trust you?” her dad asked.
“Because I bloody well hired him.” Damon was obviously
closing in on his wit’s end. “If we can’t trust the people we hire, what the
hell are we doing?”
She no longer cared if her dad freaked out. Maybe it was
time to prove to him that she wasn’t some docile intellectual. “Mal?”
A low chuckle came from behind her. “Yes, love?”
She didn’t correct him this time. It was a term of
endearment. Nothing more. But it made her feel warm. “Please come and sit with
me. We need to make a few things clear to my family.”
“Prepare yourself, buddy. This shit hits hard,” her uncle
said.
Mal moved easily into the frame, taking the chair Vivian had
been seated in. “How far are we going, love?”
Well, everyone else knew. Why not her family? She didn’t
answer, simply moved back and plopped herself down on Mal’s lap like she’d seen
her parents and aunts and uncles do at countless conference tables. She let her
arm wrap around Mal’s shoulder and looked at the screen. “Dad, this is Malcolm
Mays. Uncle, if you make fun of his name, I’ll cry to Aunt Charlotte about how
you’ve cost me yet another man I could have loved. I’ll make it good. Also,
he’s my Dom.”
Uncle Ian reached over and grabbed something on the desk. A
bottle of Scotch. “Yep, I’m ready for you, buddy. Now let’s talk about this op.
You’re lucky Adam needs his beauty rest or he would be up at this godforsaken
time of the morning.”
Her dad took a long drink of Scotch. “You didn’t tell him,
you asshole. Do you think he wouldn’t be here?”
“I can’t handle Adam at this time of the morning. My doctor
told me no,” her uncle shot back. “I’m not allowed to be around all his hair
products.”
“Is this normal?” Mal asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “But so is a sub sitting on her Master’s
lap. The Taggart girls do it all the time. I thought it was weird at first, but
now I see the perks. You have a very comfortable lap, Sir.”
“There are no perks here. There is only horror and regret,”
her dad muttered. “Please don’t tell your mom.”
She let her head find Mal’s shoulder as her family started
to bicker with Damon.
The whole thing felt a little like home.