Page 62 of Priest

I scoffed and shook my head. “Things. Yeah, that’s right. I’m just an object to you.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Then what way did you mean it, Daddy? I recall standing in this same office almost four weeks ago tomorrow, and I recall that you used me as a negotiation tool to ensure your freedom. Daddy, a real father would have done whatever it took to ensure my protection and safety, not used me as a source of protection for himself.”

“A real father, September? You have no idea what it took to be a ‘real father’ these last several years without your mother. You have no idea what it took to be a ‘real father’ before your mother died.”

“Killed her. Say it because that’s exactly what you did!”

“Watch your mouth, young lady. I’m still your father.”

“No, you’re a murderer.”

“I gave everything that I had to provide you with a good life to ensure that you were safe, had everything you needed—the best schools, exclusive vacations, shopping sprees, the best cars, and a nice bank account, and anything else that you could ask for. How dare you question anything that I felt the need to do?Your mother would have jeopardized everything that I built and everything that I tried to provide for you. She would have had both of you in the poor house and me in jail. Then who would have been here to protect you from men like Priest?”

I released a dry laugh. “Men like Priest. Funny, I felt safer with him than I did with you.”

“Impossible,” my father spat out.

“At least with him, I knew where I stood and what his expectations were.”

“Did you whore yourself out to him?”

“I did nothing less than what you expect of women. Nothing less than what you expected me to do when you sold me to him.”

“Where is he now?”

I heard motorcycles in the distance. Fear wove a tenuous thread throughout my body as I knew that Priest would be angry. I knew that he would seek revenge, and I was uncertain if he was the shoot kind and ask questions later, or if he would give me a chance to explain.

“Why? Are you worried that he’s coming back for you since he no longer has me?”

From the sounds of the bikes growing closer, maybe he was here.

“I’ll be ready this time when he returns. It’s time that I disposed of him, anyway,” he muttered.

I saw the moment that he noticed the sound. My father tilted his head to the side and listened. Then he walked back behind his desk and tapped his computer keys. He shook his head, and I guessed that he saw nothing. He made a phone call to the security gates, opened his gun safe, and removed a handgun.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“What does it look like? He will not come into my home again and take what doesn’t belong to him. He won’t disrespect me or hurt anything that belongs to me.”

“Don’t you mean anyone, Daddy?”

My comment was ignored as he spoke to a member of his security team.

“I need you to check the property. I hear intruders, but I don’t see anyone on camera,” he commanded before he strode out of his office. The sound of the motorcycle engines came from the rear of the house. I doubted they risked a front-of-the-house approach like they had done the last time.

I remained behind for several minutes as I listened to my father’s uneven gait shuffle toward the back of the house. By the time that he returned, I felt secure. I wished I knew how to contact Priest and assure him that I was safe and what my intentions were. As it were, that was impossible, and I had to trust my instincts and his. I had to trust that “unbreakable bond.”

It wasn’t long before we heard gunshots in the rear of the house. My father picked up the phone again and called his security team. When he received no answer, he looked at me mildly panicked.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know that he couldn’t have possibly gotten through them again. The men just have their hands full, that’s all.”

I didn’t say that I doubted the likelihood of that, nor did I say that I hoped that the Immortal Descendents had taken out every one of his men and his ass next. I wasn’t a violent woman. I’d only been in a handful of fights in my life, and all of those were in middle school, with the exception of one high school fight. But armed with the knowledge that my father sent those men to kill my mother had me feeling a way. If I had the balls, I would have put a bullet in his head myself, but I wasn’t that chick. I wished that I were a bad bitch that wouldn’t mind sending his ass to hell, but nah, that wasn’t me.

“Daddy, why don’t you give that man what you owe him and stop playing games?” I asked.

He turned and mugged the shit out of me like he wanted to slap me.

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