Vengeful Bounty by Jillian Kidd Page A

is a thing of the past.”
    â€œNo. No, it isn’t. I like to think I treat women right. And I treated your mother right. It was her greed that made her leave. She was more into material things than the heart.”
    I didn’t want to say what I was about to say, so I said it gently:
    â€œDamon’s not like Mom, though. Mom left you for another man. She left us.”
    Dad turned off the video, and the wall faded into a silver metallic mural.
    â€œDamon left you,” he said, “when he went on that foolish mission to wherever he went, if that’s even where he went. I’m not so sure.”
    â€œBut why would he lie?”
    â€œEven if he
is
telling the truth, he still left the country, and he left you.”
    I stood there a long time, looking at his cluttered desk. My eyes followed the jagged lines of strewn pens, papers, and pictures.
    â€œAnd I never said anything when you were together because I hoped it would’ve ended up all right, and plus, you were a grown woman, so I figured you wouldn’t want my advice. But as a man, looking at another man, I know he didn’t treat you right. He’d go off somewhere for days, weeks at a time, and not tell you where he was. Not answer his phone.”
    â€œI wasn’t a babysitter,” I said quietly. “I didn’t need to know where he was.”
    â€œIt would’ve been polite for him to tell you, and you would’ve told
him
where
you
were. It’s common courtesy. Didn’t he even stand you up a few times? I can’t count the angry phone calls I got from you, the hours I spent calming you down. Don’t you remember?”
    Fire. That’s what it felt like. Fiery Irish temper, running through my veins. Though I’m not sure if I was angrier at my dad or at Damon.
    â€œHe always had an explanation,” I said, trying to save face.
    â€œThey all do,” he said. “And that spark I was telling you about, the one you’d had all your life, it started to go away, and it was replaced by a look of pain and confusion. It’s better now, but I want to see it completely gone. I think the only way to do that is to completely remove him from your life.”
    We stood there, with me staring at his desk, with him staring at me. He’d said a mouthful. I didn’t want to think about it. I needed to focus on that jerk Jared Doyle. I needed to focus on what my plan was for guarding Leigh’s tonight. I—I just needed to go.
    â€œDo you know if Colt’s home?” I asked, giving Dad a hug. “I think I’m going to get out of here and run some errands. I want to stop by his place.”
    Colt had a punching bag, and I really needed to beat that thing up to release some of this emotion. I didn’t have a punching bag at my house because I wanted home to be a peaceful, relaxing place. I didn’t want to associate it with my aggressions. Plus, it probably would’ve freaked Rogue out to see me going Bruce Lee on a hanging bag of sand.
    â€œActually, I just talked to him on the phone,” Dad said, hugging me back. “He said he was going to work on his car this afternoon.”
    â€œOkay, well, if you wouldn’t mind, could you call him and let him know I’m on my way over?”
    â€œWill do.”
    I pulled away from his safe embrace, trying not to think of the things he’d said about me, about Damon, about chivalry and treating people right and being happy. But my mind was swirling with it.
    * * *
    Every punch and kick had my complete concentration. I homed in on the punching bag, sensing nothing in the room but it, as my gloved fist landed with a muted slam. I focused on my leg and imagined it striking with the force of a ram, and the roundhouse kick jarred the bag to the left. With mind and body connected, I channeled my frustration into energy and released it. Again. And again. And again. My brow began to sweat. It was great.
    Physical