Page 74 of Roots of the Wicked

Chapter Thirty

Jax

The day after the paparazzi attack, the coast had cleared enough for Chase to sneak me home without confronting a media mob. He walked me to my door and gifted me a kiss that left my body sizzling and my mind fried.

Happy to be home, I walked through my door, kicked off my shoes, and was stopped in my tracks.

“Dad?”

Although he was the only person I had ever given a key to my apartment, it always surprised me to see him. At a towering six-three, solidly built, and hair faded so low it verged on bald, my father’s appearance was just as imposing as his reputation in law enforcement. Where I was a smoky caramel, my father was the true definition of cocoa, dark and smooth.

He stood from my couch at my presence, a big smile across his face. I didn’t walk, I ran to him, tackling him as he lifted me into a big bear hug. He released a playful growl as he squeezed and twirled me around playfully.

“What are you doing here?” My question had been spoken into his neck, muffled but understandable.

He set me on my feet as we stood grinning and eyeing each other from head to toe. I hadn’t seen him in four months.

“I thought you were on one of your top secret assignments?”

“Do you think I would stay away after seeing my Babygirl splashed all over the television?”

My eyes fell closed for a moment. The idea of my father seeing me, draped around a man and thrown in the midst of what could turn into a more scandalous situation, left me feeling defeated.

He placed his hand atop both my shoulders when I dropped my head in embarrassment. “I know this is not easy for you, but you’re strong. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

I shook my head. “No Dad. I refuse to let you swoop in and fix this for me.”

“I’m your father. I’m supposed to swoop in, dive in, jump in, and do what is necessary to make sure you’re okay.”

He ushered his hand towards the couch. He wasn’t going to drop this, and I knew better than to argue.

“I have a friend who is helping me. We did some things, not all of them legal, to track down where those pictures were sent from. We started at the station that aired the photos and worked backwards.”

He nodded. With some of the tools at his disposal, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew more about TK than I did. When my curiosity had gotten the best of me a few years ago, I’d asked him if he would check into someone’s background for me. After a thorough interrogation on why I was asking, he had smoothly told me no. He did add that I had nothing to fear or question. I never asked again.

I eased into the couch, tucked my legs and got comfortable. Alexander St. Pierre was going to want every detail, and he would hang on to each one like it held the key to the answers we sought.

Two hours of questions and recapping had left me mentally drained, but my smile remained at having my father present. He was a walking, talking, damage control device if there ever was one. I felt sorry for the person responsible for spying on me and Chase. My determination to find the culprit, coupled with my father’s would eventually put a face on the person.

“I don’t believe Chase is involved in this,” he started. I didn’t think he was involved either, but my father’s opinion on the matter, added to my confidence in Chase.

“If one was made, the only reason they would keep the recording is for leverage or later use as a stronger incentive to break you two up.”

“You think this is motivated by someone trying to break us up? Why? We’ve been careful.”

“Not only is this person making an attempt to break you two up, its someone you both know. If you had been as careful as you say, then only someone inside your inner circle could do this type of damage. It could also be an extremely determined ex, or a super fan of his.”

The one guy on the planet, I actually enjoyed being around, could inadvertently be the cause of casting me and all my demons into the spotlight.

“You like Chase.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t give an answer. “In light of what’s happened, you haven’t separated yourself from him.” It was a revelation my father pointed out that I was well aware of.

“He’s nothing like he’s portrayed in the media, a billionaire playboy and financial genius who lives a glamorous lifestyle. He admitted to being lonely, his childhood wasn’t a cakewalk, and he is strangely in tuned with me. Where most men are intimidated by my strong personality, he isn’t afraid to challenge me. He has also made a valid effort to respect my privacy, especially having faced his own issues with the media.”

“Does he know? Everything?”

I nodded. “Yes. I trust him.”

His thoughtful smile was aligned with is eagle-eyed stare. “If you trust him, then so do I.”

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