Chapter 49
Dae
“I swear, I’m fine,” Kennedy protests as she tries to push past me to get up and shower.
“No, you’re not,” I remind her while pressing her shoulders back against the bed.
Rolling her eyes, she attempts to swat my hands away. “You’re going overboard.”
“He’s right,” her father’s deep voice says from her bedroom doorway.
I peer over my shoulder to see him looking Kennedy over. But when his gaze moves to me, his eyes darken in malice, and his scowl deepens.
“You shouldn’t be moving around,” he tells Kennedy as he steps inside of the room.
“You’re both being ridiculous,” Kennedy asserts. “It’s been over twenty-four hours. The doctor already determined I don’t have a concussion. And I just want to get up to take a shower.”
“No,” her father and I both say at the same time.
“She’s right,” Kennedy’s mother chimes in, pushing past her father as she enters the bedroom. “She’s rested. At least let her get up and shower. Besides, she needs to eat something.”
Her mother looks me over, her expression remaining neutral as she helps Kennedy from the bed.
“Thanks, Mom,” Kennedy mumbles.
“And stop hovering,” her mother adds, looking between me and Aaron Townsend. “She’ll tell us if she’s not feeling well.”
I run my hand through my hair, a feeling of helplessness still running through me. It’s been over twenty-four hours since we found Kennedy in that run-down hotel, miles from Williamsport. It was one of the hotels Blackmon used to keep the kids he transported over state lines.
Daniel Park used Nicole’s ex to get the information and kidnap Kennedy. Park, not Blackmon, was behind the first kidnapping attempt at Walcott Park of Kennedy.
Knowing this makes me anxious to settle things with that motherfucker for good.
“Your grilled cheese and tomato soup will be waiting for you once you get out of the shower,” her mother tells Kennedy.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Kennedy peers over at me and gives me a small smile right before she closes the door to the bathroom. I haven’t left her side for a minute since we brought her back home.
Yet, we haven’t had any alone time since her parents, uncles, and brother have all been in and out, hovering.
“There’s soup and grilled cheese for you, too,” Patience Townsend tells me with a smile. “You haven’t slept a wink, have you?”
“I’m fine, ma’am,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “Patience. Please call me Patience.”
A snort sounds behind her. “You can call her Mrs. Townsend,” Kennedy’s father says, glaring at me.
“Aaron,” her mother retorts.
“Besides, he won’t be around for long.” His voice is dark, slightly menacing.
“What are you insinuating?” her mother asks.
He shakes his head. “Nothing, sweetness. But I need to speak with Dae privately.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“It’s fine,” I say, meeting her father’s gaze head-on. He’s glared at me since I first encountered him in the lobby of my condo yesterday.
I was actually on my way to her parents’ place because I knew the moment I turned on the tracker I still have of Kennedy’s phone and traced it to the garage of her building that something was wrong.
“We can speak out here,” he says, turning his back, expecting me to follow. “This won’t take long,” he tells his wife before kissing her cheek.
I follow out of the bedroom and down the hall to Kennedy’s home office. Her father closes the door behind me and with my back to him.
It’s not the door closing that has my shoulder stiffening, however. It’s the distinct sound of a gun cocking.
As I turn around, he’s pointing a nine-millimeter at my forehead.
“My daughter doesn’t cry,” he says through clenched teeth. “When she was twelve, I watched her fall off a fucking horse. The bone in her collar snapped, and when I picked her up off that fucking ground, not one tear fell from her eyes.”
He snarls.
“Yesterday, when she thought her life was about to end, she didn’t shed a tear or cry for a way out.”
My fists tighten at my sides as I recall the image of Daniel Park holding a gun to her before asking if she had any last words. Her father’s right. My little warrior didn’t bother with any tears.
“But yesterday, I watched on the security feed in my home as my daughter cried in her mother’s lap. Over you,” he seethes.
My chest tightens, doubling the pain that’s been lingering in my body for weeks.
“She cried over you, and you have to go for that.”
I raise an eyebrow, meeting his glare.
“Now, you can walk out of here on your own and never fucking look back. Or, you’ll have to be carried out. I prefer the second option,” he adds.
“Daddy, no!” Kennedy’s voice pierces the air as she pushes through the door.
In the blink of an eye, she’s in front of me. Her back is to me, arms wide, as if shielding me.
All I see is a gun pointed at her, and I react. I grab her by the waist and spin her so that my back is now to her father, but my body is in between her and the gun.
“What the hell are you doing?” I demand with my hands wrapped around her arms.
“What the hell?” her father says at the same time.
“You don’t ever get in between me and a gun.” I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her. My heart is beating a mile a minute.
“Get the hell off of my daughter,” her father grits out behind me.
“Aaron, that’s enough.” Kennedy’s mother moves beside her husband, her hand on his arm with the gun in it.
“Sweetness, you shouldn’t be here,” he replies.
“Are you insane? I should’ve known you would pull something like this as soon as you two were alone,” her mother argues.
“He made her cry,” her father insists.
“If it weren’t for him, we might not have even known Kennedy was missing until it was too late.” Her mother looks over at Kennedy with watery eyes.
“I’m okay, Mom,” Kennedy assures her mother. “Dad, please, put the gun down.”
“I wasn’t going to shoot him … here,” her father insists.
“Aaron.” Her mother’s tone sounds like a warning.
“He still made her cry. That’s unacceptable.” His voice is unbendable.
“He’s right,” I tell Kennedy. I look her over, my chest filling with pain from the bruises on her face.
I think about the way Park had her locked in that abandoned hotel, bound to that chair. Isn’t that what I did to her? Held her prisoner.
Yes, in my mind, it was for her safety, but I held her prisoner, restricted her freedom just the same.
“I was wrong,” I finally say, believing it.
“Glad you admitted it before you leave,” her father says.
“Aaron, stop it,” Kennedy’s mother hisses. “We should give them their privacy.”
“Absolutely not,” he declares. “I’m not letting that fucker alone with my daughter.”
“You will,” her mother argues back. “Baby, your food is waiting for you in the oven. Yours too, Dae. We’re leaving.”
“Absolutely not,” her father replies.
“Yes, we are. Stasi will be home soon. And these two need to talk things out. Let’s go. Now,” her mother’s voice is firm, surprising me.
I start to realize that my little warrior gets her fight not only from her father but also from her mother.
“I’m still keeping my fucking eye on you,” her father growls before the door closes behind him.
It’s just Kennedy and me now.
I look her over. Her curls are dripping wet, clinging to the sides of her face and the sweatshirt she’s wearing. It’s one of mine. She looks like she ran out of the shower and threw on the first thing she could find before bursting through the door to find her father holding me at gunpoint.
“Well,” she starts, pulling out of my hold and crossing her arms over her chest, “you admitted you were wrong.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for, Dae?”
“For locking you …” I trail off and shake my head. “No, for robbing you of your independence. For deceiving you and making you trust me without giving you the whole truth.”
Observing me, she drops her arms slightly.
“That’s a start,” she says, lifting her chin. She pinches her lips before asking, “Did you do what you did because there’s something you didn’t want me to find out about your relationship with Blackmon?”
My eyes widen. “What?”
She throws her arms outward. “You’ve kept secrets from me since the beginning of our relationship. First, you told me that your business relationship with Blackmon ended years ago. Then, I found out that wasn’t entirely true.
“Then I get so close to uncovering all of Blackmon’s disgusting schemes, and you lock me in your house to keep me away from him.”
“That was for your safety,” I tell her. “I thought he wanted to hurt you, and I will never let that happen. No one ever again will hurt you.”
“Does that include you?” she counters. “Because your actions did hurt me, Dae. I trusted you. I let my guard down with you because I thought you understood me. But you used my lowered defenses against me.”
I shake my head. “I won’t ever do that again.” I go to her, wrapping my hands around her arms.
“Not ever. Your safety is and will always be my highest priority. But,” I pause and swallow, “I’ll never use your trust in me against you.”
“How can I believe you?”
I drop my hands away from her arms, step back, and pull out the thumb drive I’ve had in my pocket since the day before.
“What’s this?” she asks as I hand it to her.
“More proof.”
She looks from the thumb drive to me.
“Blackmon helped my uncle start this business with the money he earned from illegal deals. About ten years ago, my uncle hired some overnight staff through connections he got from Blackmon.
“As it turns out, they were teens, part of Blackmon’s child labor ring. Blackmon hung this over my uncle’s head until the day he died. I never knew about it until recently. Now, that information is yours to do what you need to do with it.”
She holds up the drive. “If I include this in my articles, it could ruin your business.”
“Yes.” I nod.
“You could lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.”
I shake my head. “This means nothing if you don’t trust me. If I don’t have your heart, I don’t have anything.”
“You’re saying I can take this information to my desk and include it in my series on Blackmon?”
“I’m saying if you want me to sit at the computer myself and type it up, I will. My truth is yours, Kennedy. Everything I have is yours.” I take a step forward and cup her face.
“Just say you’re mine, too. Please.”
She lowers her eyelids, shielding her eyes from me. Then she inhales deeply before looking back up at me. Her eyes shine with unshed tears. But it’s not tears of pain.
“I don’t think I’ve ever belonged to anyone else.”
I pull her into a soft kiss, mindful of the bruising on her face. We groan in unison at the first touch of our lips that we’ve had in weeks.