Top Dog

I cleared my throat at the last observation. Easy boy, Jordan, if you’re thinking of bangin’ a top US prosecutor’s daughter then you’d better be ready for another kind of war.

“Okay,” I said. “Call him up. I’ll be there within an hour.”

CHAPTER THREE - ABIGAIL

“You have to be kidding me.”

I stared at my Dad in disbelief as he handed off a case file to his paralegal. She scampered by me, well-aware that an argument was about to ensue. When Robert Carter got angry, all hell broke loose, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Yet, I could match my Dad’s angry voice tone for tone easily without batting an eyelash, and I would.

How dare he shit all over my plans?

He stood in front of the row of windows that overlooked the entire city of Manhattan dressed in a sharp navy blue suit with a crisp white button up my Mom had ironed for him this morning. His brown hair was peppered with grays, and a few faint lines covered the corners of his eyes, but he was sharper than ever. Age had never slowed him down.

“I’m not kidding you, Abi,” he replied, steadily. “I have hired a bodyguard to come with you to Spain. There's no argument about it.”

“You just want someone to tell you how I’m behaving,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. “You don’t think I know how to defend myself, or how to keep an eye out for trouble?”

“No, I don’t have any confidence in you for those reasons.” I winced at the harshness of those words. “You are incredibly naive when it comes to foreign places, Abi. You can’t imagine the concern I have for you. Especially with Libby tagging along on this adventure.”

“Libby is not a bad person,” I said, defensively. “She’s the only friend at Harvard who isn’t afraid of you!”

“For that,” he said, sitting down at his desk with a sigh, “I admire her for, but it’s already done. The bodyguard will be here any moment now.”

“You promised to trust me on this one thing,” I pointed out in exasperation. “This is the one time you promised that I could do this without someone hovering over me the entire time.”

“Things change, Abigail, and if we’re being honest, I do trust you. It’s everyone else in the world that I’m leery of. You’re my daughter, and when I’m concerned, I’m going to take precautionary measures to make sure you’re protected.”

“Protected against what?”

“I have taken on a case that involves a high profile terrorist leader who is currently in a US prison,” he said. “This man happens to mean a lot to his group of followers. They will do everything they can to get him back.”

“And you think that involves me?”

My Dad sighed heavily in exasperation as well. “Yes, Abigail. It does involve you because you are leaving the country, and I have a feeling you have posted your feelings about being away from me without any supervision.” He smiled thinly when I looked away guiltily. “That’s what I thought. This is where I feel much more comfortable having a bodyguard following you and Libby around Madrid.”

“I’m twenty-two, Dad,” I half-whined, not sounded twenty-two at all. “I can handle my life on my own. You’re being paranoid about everything as usual.”

“You’ve been a bit sheltered, dear. Your life has been lived in a bubble thanks to me and your Mom making sure that you were always within reach” he said, and at the look on my face, clarified, “I admit that I’ve sheltered you a bit too much, but I’m your Dad. I’m going to protect you as much as I can. Since I am paying for this trip, the bodyguard stands. Period.”

He had me at that and knew it. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk with a dejected sigh. Libby is going to be fucking furious. There was no changing my Dad’s mind once he was convinced of something. I’d have to deal with another bodyguard reporting things back to my Dad as usual. How the hell was I going to enjoy myself with some muscle-head leaning over the top of me the whole damn time?

Right. I wasn’t.

A knock echoed on the door before anything else could be said. I turned in my chair as the doors to my Dad’s office were opened. My breath caught in my throat when a handsome, muscular guy with short brown hair entered the room with an air of confidence about him.

Muscles pressed against the fitted shirt he wore, and I couldn’t help but notice the bulge in the front of his pants. It seemed like his arms weren’t the only thing he was working out. I wanted to snort at my joke, but my sour mood helped to hold back anything resembling playful.

His eyes, a forest green color, flicked over my Dad and me with an indifferent expression. He was tall, and easily towered over everyone. Tattoos covered the patches of skin that were visible. There was something irresistible about him. I couldn’t pinpoint it besides that my stomach fluttered when he raked his gaze over me sitting in the chair.

“Ah, Mr. Jordan, I presume?” My Dad stood from his chair to hold out a hand for the man to shake. “I’d like to thank you for coming to Manhattan from Queens today. Your friend, Logan, mentioned you were making the trip to meet with us. I appreciate that more than you know.”

“Thank you for seeing me, Sir,” he said, voice deep and steady. It was beautifully masculine and left something in my stomach fluttering around.

My Dad extended a hand toward me. “This is my daughter, Abigail. You have probably seen her pictures from the files I sent to Logan though.”

“Pictures?” I asked, shooting my Dad a glare. “You sent them pictures of me?”

“I apologize for her lack of manners,” my Dad said, crisply. “She is not pleased with this arrangement at the moment.”