His Best Mistake (Shillings Agency 6)

Even though sometimes she wished it would.

Would Mark get angry at her for rushing to help her “loser father” like William used to? Or would he smile, say he understood, and send her on her way? She didn’t know, but she was about to find out. “It’s true. I’m a cop. What did he do this time?”

Mark frowned down at her.

“He’s in my bar, breaking glasses, and starting trouble. Being a danger to my customers. He said if I call you, you’ll take him away, and make sure he’s not arrested or a threat. I don’t want the cops hanging around my establishment, interrupting business—” Glass broke in the background, and she paused. “Damn it, Dick.”

She heard her father’s surly reply, slurred beyond intelligibility.

“Where is he?” she asked, glancing at Mark.

“Everything okay?” he mouthed.

She shook her head, and turned away slightly from his concerned gaze.

“Bud’s Corner, on Fifth and Dodge. You’ve got five minutes to get here, or I call 911.”

Daisy hung up, clutching her phone so hard it hurt. This cold dose of reality wasn’t a welcome one. She’d been happy—being with Mark, acting normal. And then her father, like usual, had to swoop in and ruin it all. “Son of a frigging bitch.”

“What’s wrong?” Mark asked quickly, glancing toward their friends again. They were oblivious to the two of them standing hand in hand outside. “Is it your dad?”

It’s always my dad.

“Yes.” She gestured toward the window, knowing this might be their first fight, because it always led to one with William, and he’d been the most patient man to ever walk the earth. “I know we’re supposed to be having our big reveal now, and I’m not trying to get out of it, I swear. But—”

“Say no more.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

Out of all the things she’d expected him to say, that was pretty much last on the list. “Wait. What?”

“Let’s go.” He frowned. “We need to go get him, right?”

He wanted to…go with her?

William had never gone along. Refused to be a part of it.

That’s why she’d always called Tim. He was always there for her, in the one way William hadn’t been. And truth be told, she kind of preferred it that way. If Mark came along tonight, the second he found out how bad her father was, the reality of what living with a drunk for a father meant, he’d run in the opposite direction, and she wouldn’t blame him one little bit.

Sometimes, she wished she could run.

Shaking her head, she backed up a step. “That’s nice of you, but you don’t have to come. I can call Tim. He always helps me haul him around.”

“You can still call him, if you want, but I’d like to come, too, if that’s okay,” he said, staring at her intently.

She stared at him, not speaking, because she didn’t want him to come. Not because she didn’t want to let him in, but because he’d want to be let out once he met her dad. “Look, he’s really drunk. Like, stupid drunk. He’ll be throwing up. Mean. Angry. And even worse, he’ll cry about all his dead buddies, and my mom. So don’t feel like you have to come. I can do it—”

“Daisy.” He caught her chin, smiling gently. “I told you I was in this for all of it. T

he good. The bad. The ugly. I meant it. I’m coming with you, and if he pukes in my truck, then I don’t give a damn. It’s just a fucking truck. You’re more important than that.”

She swallowed, tears blurring her vision for a scary second. She blinked them away, averted her gaze, and took a calming breath. There was no way she could reject him after that. “I…thank you, Mark.” Rising up on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his in a sweet kiss that said nothing, and yet everything. When she pulled back, he stared down at her with heated eyes that held so much promise it took her breath away, and a rebellious tear escaped. “Thank you.”

“Hey. None of that.” He smiled at her and wiped a thumb across her damp cheek. “Let’s go get your dad.”

She smiled and took a second to compose herself. After she pulled herself together and sniffed, she asked, “What about them?”

“Text them once we’re on the road. Tell them something came up. Tell them nothing came up. I don’t care what you say, because he’s your dad, not mine.” He caught her hand and led her back the way they’d come. “But let’s go, before they call the cops.” He led her to his truck, opened the car door for her, and then climbed behind the wheel. As he started the engine, he asked, “Where am I going?”

“Bud’s Corner. It’s on—”