Page 92 of One Way Out
Leo, Shaw, and Omen are right behind him.
Valor carries me down the stairs wrapped up in the blanket we carried with us from Germany. He stops on the bottom step and rocks on his feet.
“What the fuck is this?” Shaw growls.
My body goes stiff, and I turn in Valor’s hold.
We’re at another small airport, and we exited right out on the runway.
My father stands next to Easton, the owner of Shadow Security. There are two men at Easton’s side that are wearing the company logo, but I stiffen seeing my father’s press secretary and several of his campaign advisors.
“The senator seems to think this moment would be a nice photo op,” Easton says.
Leo spins around and comes back to stand in front of me and Valor.
Shaw raises a hand, jabbing a finger at the crowd of my father’s men. “I swear to fuck, the first camera I spot is getting destroyed. That doesn’t even speak to what I’ll do to your face.”
Omen chuckles. “I’ll help.”
“I recognize Leo and Shaw. Who are those two?” My father asks with a snide tone that instantly lets me know he’s talking about Omen and Valor.
Easton shrugs. “They don’t work for me. Perhaps you should try asking your daughter.”
“Let me down,” I say, patting Valor’s arm.
He sighs but places me on my feet.
I untangle from the blanket, running my hands down my dress. Never in amillionyears did I think my father would show up here.
I tease my hand down Leo’s arm as I step around him, awkwardly waving at my dad with the other.
Samantha and my little brothers are nowhere to be seen. I wouldn’t mind seeing the boys, but I know better than to hope my stepmother isn’t here because he finally found some honor and said enough was enough.
“Saylor, I thought I might never see you again,” my father says, staggering forward. “Thank God. I’ve prayed every day since you were taken.”
Cece, my father’s press secretary, scratches away in her notebook.
My head tilts.
I think she’s got a recording device clipped to the top of the clipboard that she’s using as leverage.
That figures.
Any experience is something that can be leveraged to help his poll numbers.
“Where are Samantha and the boys?” I ask, taking a step back as my father gets closer.
My father flattens a hand over his tie as he continues toward me. “They wanted to be here, but it’s late. We had no idea what kind of condition you might be in?—”
Easton scoffs. “I told you she was fine.”
My father ignores him, saying, “I have a doctor on standby to see you immediately. Your kidnapping has been kept out of the press, but it’s only a matter of time…”
My head shakes.
I should have seen this coming.
It’s always been a battle between what my mother’s family would want—for all of us to stay under the radar.
