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  His sister. He wanted to test the words out loud, see how they sounded on his tongue. He hadn’t claimed a family member in so long, it felt strange.

  Wyatt swiped his hand over the back of his neck. It was fine. This was not a big deal. He’d dealt with billionaires, millionaires, politicians, mafiosos. A little girl and her mother should be a cakewalk.

  A soft touch landed on his arm, and he started.

  “Wyatt,” Tatiana said, anxiety creasing her brow. “We don't have to do this, you know. We could work out some sort of meeting through our lawyer, or communicate over the phone. Or I can go and talk to them without you.”

  This woman. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and wrenched her close, pressing his lips against hers in a brief but desperate kiss. “No,” he murmured. “I’m okay. I’ve got you.”

  “That’s right.” Her smile was a shadow of its normal self, worry for him obvious. “Your lucky charm.”

  “The ace up my sleeve.”

  “We can work out the appropriate gambling analogy later. Shall we?”

  He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let's go.”

  Wyatt tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow after they exited the car, not wanting to lose contact with her.

  Needy.

  He buried the chastising voice, replacing it with Tatiana’s expected, exasperated words. Yeah, you’re needy now. I might be needy tomorrow. That’s how it works.

  They had parked on the side of the hotel, and they made their way around the perimeter toward the front. This establishment was light years away from Quest. It filled its advertised purpose: a safe, affordable place for families to stop and rest while they were on vacation together. The type of hotel he had never been to when he was Ellie's age. Or at any time after his mother died. Family vacations had stopped then.

  The sound of shrieking children grew louder as they neared the outdoor pool. Caught by the noise, he glanced at the area and faltered, finally stopping dead in his tracks and bringing Tatiana to a halt with him.

  Samuel Caine looked older than the driver’s license photo Jared had sent over, with silver threaded through his midnight hair and wrinkles on his face. His dark head was bent close to another, one that wasn’t graying. Wyatt watched his father smile at Ellie as he rubbed sunscreen on her arms.

  That wide-open smile was foreign to Wyatt. He hadn’t seen his father grin like that since before his mother had died. Even before her death, that level of happiness had been reserved for his mom, not him. Samuel flicked his finger against Ellie’s nose, and his smile widened.

  Ellie reached up on tiptoes to kiss her father's cheek, and something broke inside Wyatt.

  They should go. They had to go. His father wasn’t supposed to be here.

  Jared was more than capable of keeping tabs from afar, and there were other ways to ensure the child’s safety. Maybe he would seek the kid out when she was older. Or speak with her if she contacted him again.

  Ellie ran off to the pool, and Samuel straightened from his crouched position. As if sensing a gaze on him, he glanced over the heads of the riotous children and parents. Ice ran through Wyatt’s veins as matching black eyes met his.

  To his credit, Samuel looked as shell-shocked as Wyatt felt. His father took one faltering step, and then another, and another, until he was at the wrought-iron gate to the pool. He reached down, twisted the handle, and opened it.

  Tatiana squeezed his arm and he jerked, having forgotten she was standing next to him. “Your call,” she whispered. Of course she had recognized his dad. The man still looked disgustingly like him.

  Wyatt would happily turn and walk away forever, grateful to never encounter this man again for the rest of his life.

  Don't grow up to be weak like me. Please.

  Words the old man had often sobbed out during his drunken crying jags. In the beginning, Wyatt had watched wide-eyed and silent, or cried himself. Later, he grew so desensitized, he would step over the man to go make himself a sandwich or to take care of the bills.

  The words had stuck with him, though. Wyatt eyed the hand holding the gate open, rage flushing through him. Fuck no. Everything he’d done in his life had been done partially to prove he wasn’t weak like this bastard.

  He tightened his grip on Tatiana’s hand and squared his shoulders, girding his loins to walk the short distance.

  When Wyatt had left home, he had still been an inch or two shorter than Samuel. They were the same height now. Roughly the same build, too. Construction had kept the man whipcord lean. Wyatt had worked on a crew when he’d been younger. He’d spent the past decade trying to replicate that workout in a gym.

  “Wyatt,” his father said. Wyatt controlled his instinctive flinch from the familiar gravelly voice. “I didn't think...” He trailed off.

  They stood in frozen silence, cataloguing each other for a long moment, before Tatiana delicately cleared her throat.

  Samuel tore his gaze away and looked at Tatiana. “Excuse me. I—” His brow furrowed. “I know you. You look familiar.”

  “My name's Tatiana Belikov.” She held out her hand. Automatically, Samuel grasped it. “Wyatt and I dated in high school.”

  To Wyatt’s surprise, a dull red flush worked its way up Samuel’s neck. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered.”

  A good parent would have remembered. He and Tatiana had only been dating for six months when he moved out of his father’s home, but that was more than enough time for a functional adult to have met a child’s girlfriend.

  “I never introduced you two,” Wyatt said flatly. “So it’s not a surprise you can’t remember.”

  “Ah. Yes.” Samuel had trouble meeting Wyatt’s gaze.

  He should have trouble with that, Wyatt thought viciously. “I came to see your—” he choked on the word wife, unable to think past his mother, “—family. I didn’t think you were here.”

  “I flew in last night after Carol told me about Ellie’s adventures.” The other man squared his shoulders. “I was going to come see you today.”

  Bullshit. The guy hadn’t tried to see him when they were within driving distance of each other.

  Tatiana cleared her throat again. “Why don't we sit down somewhere?”

  Samuel jerked, as if he’d been prodded into recalling where they were. “Yes. Please, that’s a good idea.”

  Wyatt forced himself to put one foot in front of the other to follow the older man to a patio table where a pretty, plump blonde watched them with worried eyes. The nurse, Wyatt thought. His mother had been a blonde, as well. The old man had a type.

  He glanced at Tatiana's honey hair, disturbed to think he and his father shared a preference for anything or anyone. But he'd always be attracted to Tatiana, even if she turned her hair pink and her eyes purple.

  “This is my wife, Carol,” Sam said quietly.

  Wyatt nodded and gave a brusque handshake to the woman. “Wyatt.” He nodded to Tatiana, who smiled warmly at the other woman, no doubt trying to diminish some of the awkwardness. “This is Tatiana.”

  “How nice to meet you both,” Carol responded, but worry lines creased her brow, belying her words.

  “Wyatt?”

  He turned at the now-familiar, eager voice. Ellie wore a hot-pink one-piece, with neon goggles pushed up on her head. Her dark lashes were spikey from the pool water, her hair hanging in wet ropes down her back.

  “Hello, Ellie.”

  “What are you doing here? I didn't think I would see you again.”

  “You snuck out yesterday before I could speak with you.”

  “I thought it was best.” Before he could respond to that cryptic and oddly mature pronouncement, Ellie glanced at Tatiana. “Is this your girlfriend?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hello,” Tatiana offered. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “You dated in high school,” Ellie announced.

  Wyatt raised a brow. “How did you know that?”

  “Found pictures fro
m your senior prom. Your alumni board is pretty active online.” Ellie surveyed Tatiana. “You were a lot fatter then.”

  Tatiana’s lips twitched. “I was going through an awkward phase.”

  “Ellie, for God’s sake…”

  Ellie glanced at her mother. “Sorry.” The word was dutiful, as if Ellie was used to apologizing. “Why aren’t you married yet, if you’ve been dating for so long?”

  “We took a break for a while,” Tatiana replied.

  “Ellie, can you give us a minute, please?” her father interjected.

  A mulish pout crossed the girl's face. Some people might loathe seeing that expression on a child’s face but something within Wyatt eased at the sight of it. He had never disobeyed or become stubborn with his fragile father. He had learned early to avoid anything that could trigger a drunken rage.

  “But I want to talk to Wyatt,” she whined.

  “Later.” Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of quarters. “Here, go play video games.”

  The girl snorted. “Those arcade games are for babies. The graphics are terrible, and I can beat them in a few minutes.”

  “Elizabeth,” her mother interjected. “Do I need to remind you that you are still in trouble from your antics yesterday?”

  Ellie’s pout disappeared, and so did the quarters. “No, ma’am. I’ll come back soon.” With a wave to Wyatt, she trudged away.

  Wyatt wanted to smile at the forlorn sigh Ellie tossed in for good measure, but he was far too overwhelmed by his own demons.

  “Would you like to go inside?” Carol asked.

  And prolong this? No thanks. Wyatt shook his head and sat down at the patio table. Tatiana's hand slid off his arm, but only to link her fingers with his.

  “First, I'm sorry for what Ellie did yesterday,” Sam Caine spoke, his voice low but pitched high enough to be heard over the din of kids.

  “She has a mind of her own,” Carol said, exasperated but affectionate.

  Wyatt nodded. “She’s smart.”

  “Brilliant,” Samuel confirmed matter-of-factly. “She’s taking high school classes. But that doesn’t mean she’s allowed to run off in a strange city. She knows not to try it again.” His father shifted. “I didn't think she even knew enough about you to find you. I kept tabs on you, of course. But I thought to wait until she was older to tell her who you were.”

  Wyatt flinched, and Tatiana's hand tightened on his. Tabs? His father hadn't kept tabs on him even when they lived in the same zip code.

  “It's fine,” he said shortly.

  “I'm sure it was a shock to you. That wasn’t how I imagined the two of you meeting.”

  “You imagined us meeting?” The disbelieving words slipped out before Wyatt could stop them.

  Samuel looked down at his large hands, his thick lashes veiling his eyes. “Since the day she was born. I thought, by this time, I would have contacted you. But somehow the days went by, and then the years. Still, I figured I would come here eventually. Tell you about Ellie. Ease you into meeting her.”

  Carol shifted. “Sam knows how he was to you, Wyatt. It torments him—”

  “Carol,” Sam growled.

  “No. This may be your only chance to speak with him.” Earnest kindness radiated from her. “Sam knows he made mistakes in his life, and he's spent the last decade trying to make them up. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think of you. He is so proud of your accomplishments.”

  “Enough, Carol.” Sam kept his eyes on Wyatt, arrogance in every line of his expression. Wyatt knew that look well. He saw it in the mirror often. “She's right,” he said to Wyatt, surprising him. “I am proud of you. I have been keeping track of your success. And I'm sorry.”

  The apology was simple.

  Too simple. Too easy.

  Did the man think that one “I'm sorry” would wipe out years of neglect? Fix his past, change who he was?

  Fuck him.

  Wyatt’s lips barely moved. “I thought you were dead.”

  The other man flinched, and Wyatt continued. “I didn't keep tabs on you. I didn’t care what happened to you. And if Ellie hadn’t come to see me yesterday, I would have continued not caring what happened to you.” Wyatt looked at Carol but addressed his words to his father. “Your wife reminds me of Mom.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he watched his father tense. “Your mother was a good woman. So is Carol.”

  Wyatt refocused on his father. “I came here because my private investigator confirmed that Ellie was who she claimed to be. And all I could think, after I discovered that, was that Ellie may have come to me solely because she wanted to get away from you.”

  Samuel blanched.

  Carol’s face turned red. “Excuse me? My daughter is a happy little girl and loves her father very much. That's absurd.”

  “Why?” Wyatt studied his father coolly, though his blood ran hot. “When I was her age, I loved him more than anything in the world. And I would have paid someone to get me away from him.”

  Tatiana drew in a shaky breath next to him but otherwise didn't speak, didn’t correct his rampant rudeness. She was merely there, a support beam for him to lean on and extract strength.

  Samuel’s chest expanded. “I'm not like I was. I've changed.”

  “Have you?”

  His father’s jaw worked. “I know it’s no excuse. I loved your mother so much. When she died, I lost my mind. I crawled into that bottle, and I wanted to die.”

  Wyatt glanced at Tatiana, recalling the words she’d spoken last night. Whether he said the words aloud or not, he loved her. More than he’d loved her when he was a kid, though that seemed impossible. If she died, he would be bereft.

  Bereft. But not dead. Not crippled.

  Crushing relief made his hands shake. He fisted them to hide the tremor. He hadn’t fully believed Tatiana last night, unable to process through his turmoil. She was right. He wasn’t his father. Not in this. He’d already faced his worst demon, having her leave him once in his life.

  He would take care of his business. He would take care of the people who relied upon him. And if he had a child? He would fucking take care of that child. Because that was what you did.

  Wyatt looked at his father. “What are you going to do to Ellie if her mom dies?”

  Carol drew in a sharp breath. “You are out of line. I trust my husband.”

  “My mom trusted him.” The words spilled out of him, ugly and vile, like he was opening his veins and pouring bitter blood onto the ground. It needed to be done. Let it soak into the concrete, stain the pool black.

  Tatiana’s here. She shouldn’t hear this.

  Let her hear.

  “I doubt she thought that she was leaving me with a weak alcoholic. Have you told her? Have you told Carol about how you'd drink all day and all night? How I had to make my own breakfast, lunch and dinner, and yours, too? How I had to pay the electrical bill when they threatened to turn it off? How you would cry every night? How you told me, when I was eleven, that you were going to kill yourself, and you grabbed a knife...” He lashed out to grasp the other man’s wrist. Samuel didn't resist when Wyatt wrenched his limb over to display the thin silvery marks on his inner arm. “Not hard enough to die, though, right? Not deep enough so I could go live with a distant relative or take my chances in the system. Just to spray enough blood to terrify me.”

  His father had turned gray. “I will not do to Ellie what I did to you,” he whispered. “Ever.”

  Wyatt nodded, anger and adrenaline making for a heady mix. “Damn right you won't.” He released the other man's arm and leaned forward, his legendary control long gone, his mouth taking over. “Because unlike me, she now has someone who can look out for her. I will keep an eye on you and her from now on, and if I hear even a hint that you've fallen off the wagon? If anything happens to your wife and I see you reverting back to your usual ways? I will come and I will get her, and she will be mine. I have the money and the power to make that happen. Do
not doubt it.” Words he hadn’t planned on saying. Words that felt right.

  Carol straightened, her brow furrowing. “Are you threatening us, Mr. Caine?”

  Wyatt turned to her. Good. She had some backbone. He hated to think Ellie was being raised by two weaklings.

  Before he could speak, Tatiana did. “It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.” Her face was composed, as if she wasn’t a bit fazed by any of these revelations. “I don't know how much of Wyatt and Samuel’s history you’re aware of, but he has the right to doubt your husband. He has the right to question him.”

  Anger tightened the older woman’s lips. “This is my child…”

  “Stop. They're right.” Wyatt's father spoke, cutting off his wife. Samuel smiled at Carol and stroked his finger over her cheek, the tenderness coming from this man utterly foreign to Wyatt.

  “You see the best in me. You always have. But the things Wyatt said, the things I told you about that time, they barely scratch the surface. There are so many incidents I don't remember. But I have no doubt Wyatt does.”

  Wyatt had to keep himself from sneering, those memories crashing around his brain. A raw, exposed nerve. That was what he felt like.

  “I never hit him or physically abused him. But I’m certain that’s not much comfort.” Samuel spoke to his wife, but his gaze was on Wyatt.

  His eyes were so clear, free of the redness brought on by booze and misery. Wyatt couldn’t remember ever seeing them like that. “I would have rather you punched me, sometimes,” he admitted, the words torn from him.

  His father nodded, suddenly looking very tired. “Yes. I don’t blame you. I understand your concern about Ellie. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m proud you’re the kind of man who would be concerned about her.”

  No, he didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t need his father’s pride.

  Samuel continued. “I have changed, and she is a happy, well-adjusted girl. But if you wish to keep an eye on her, I won't complain.”

  Suspicious, Wyatt searched the older man for some ulterior motive. His wife’s outrage seemed far more normal than this easy acceptance.

  Oh. There it was. That emotion in Samuel’s black eyes. Wyatt had seen it in the eyes of men who were uncertain about the hand they held but were determined to brazen it out all the same.