Page 96 of Locked In Ice

How much had Ophelia told the older man?“Yes.”Seemed like a safe enough answer.

Then he remembered…shit.Ophelia’s dress.They’d dropped it in the hallway last night.But when he did a fast and frantic glance toward her bedroom, the dress was gone.

“Son, there something bothering you?”Her father’s voice was surprisingly polite.Was that the calm before the storm?

But, since the man had asked the question, Lane would give him an answer.Lane swallowed and admitted, “Quite a few things.”

“What might those things be?”

“Ophelia and I are chasing a killer.Some asshole we handed over to the cops in Atlanta has vanished, but not before finding your daughter’s business address on his home computer.So I’m pretty sure that means the jerk thinks he’s going to hurt her.”Lane lifted his chin.“Not going to happen.I’ll just hurt him first.”

“Heard you tried tosavea man last night.”Her father’s head tilted as he seemed to take Lane’s measure again.“Didn’t work out though.”

No, it hadn’t.

“A criminal.A jerk who tried to break into my Ophelia’s home.A guy who wanted to cause trouble for her and her client.Yet you tried to save him.”

“It was an impulse.”A split-second decision.There’d been so much blood.The feel of that weak pulse beneath Lane’s touch had spurred him into action before he even thought about what he was doing.

Her father advanced.

Velma rushed from the den.She headed straight for Lane.Her head butted against his leg even as her tail curled around his jeans.Automatically, he reached down and gave her a little pat behind her ear.

“How about that.”No question.Just a general statement from Ophelia’s dad.

Lane lifted a brow.“How about what?”Is this the time you try to rearrange my face?Because Ophelia and I already have a lot on the schedule.

“Velma doesn’t like most people.”

Velma headed for Ophelia’s father.Locked her tail around his leg.He lifted her up.Cradled her carefully.

Well, it looked like her dad wasn’t in the face-rearranging mood.

“You’d let me take a swing at you, wouldn’t you?”her father asked.

Lane shrugged.“Ophelia is worth some hits.”

“And you’ve had plenty of hits in your life, haven’t you, son?”

“I’m not your son.”And Lane had a flash of his own father.The rage in his eyes.And…the way it had been before all the rage came.The way his dad used to cheer for him at football games.The way they’d play catch in the backyard.The way—

“I know.”Softer.Sadder.There was a flash of sympathy in the eyes so like Ophelia’s.“My daughter tells me a lot.”

Lane stiffened.

“Like…she tells me you’re a good man.Said you would let me take a swing at you and you wouldn’t hit back.”

He didn’t reply.What was the point.

“Doesn’t necessarily soundgoodthough,” her dad continued.“More like a dumbass move to let some guy just hit you.”

“You’re not some guy.You’re her father.Ophelia loves you.”Lane rolled one shoulder.Where the hell was Ophelia?“I don’t hurt what she loves.”

“Why is that, exactly?”

Simple.“Because I won’t make Ophelia unhappy.”

“Why?”

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