In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)

She took off with a jerk as she hit the accelerator to follow her dad as he roared from the lot.

Her father set a determined pace through traffic and she realized they were heading home—one of the many places they called home—but the place they stayed mostly during the year when she taught and her father managed his business.

They zoomed through the security gate and it swiftly closed behind them. As soon as she pulled into the garage, her mother appeared in the doorway and she rushed over to open Ari’s door, her face a wreath of concern.

“Be careful, darling,” her father told her mother gently. “She’s hurt.”

“Oh Ari, what happened, sweetheart? Do you need to go to the hospital?” She turned anxiously to her husband. “Shouldn’t you have taken her straight to the hospital?”

Gavin Rochester put a reassuring hand on his wife’s shoulder before leaning in to help Ari from the car. This time Ari was more disciplined and didn’t let her discomfort show because her mother was already verging on panic and Ari didn’t want to add to her worry.

“There wasn’t time, Ginger. We have problems that needed to be addressed quickly. I’ve already put a call into Doctor Winstead and he’s on his way over. If he feels Ari needs to be hospitalized or that she’s seriously injured, we’ll do so discreetly in his outpatient clinic, where privacy and anonymity can be assured.”

Ginger wrapped her arm gently around her daughter and Ari could feel her shaking in fear and agitation. In turn, she wrapped her arm around her mother’s slender frame and hugged her as tightly as the discomfort in her ribs would allow.

“I’m okay, Mom. We have bigger problems than my injuries. I messed up.”

As she spoke, she glanced apologetically up to her father, regret for letting him down flooding her heart.

His expression immediately became fierce. He framed her face in his hands, turning her away from her mother, forcing her gaze to his.

“Don’t you ever apologize or feel you’ve let me or your mother down for doing whatever it takes to protect yourself. You could have died today, Ari. If you hadn’t done what you did, your mother and I would be planning your funeral right now. This is one time I thank God for your extraordinary abilities, and for the first time, I believe there is a genuine purpose—some higher reason—for your gift. Today that gift saved the life of someone very precious to me.”

Tears welled in Ari’s eyes at the sincerity brimming in her father’s.

“Now let’s get you inside,” he said, urging her carefully toward the door. “I have some phone calls to make and Doctor Winstead should be here soon. Let your mother fuss over you like she’s dying to do and don’t worry about this, baby. I promise you, I’ll take care of it.”

“I know you will, Dad,” she said in a low voice.





FIVE

ARI settled with a sigh into her bedroom her parents still kept for her, even though she had her own apartment—in one of the buildings her father owned, of course. It had been hard enough for her parents to let go, but her father’s tolerance only ran so far. He’d insisted she move into his building that housed upscale apartments not far from where she taught, because security was tight and he could be assured of her safety.

It wouldn’t at all surprise her if he had a full security detail also housed in the apartment building just to keep an eye on her.

Her mother had stood anxiously over Doctor Winstead as he examined Ari, almost as if she were afraid he’d miss something in his diagnosis. But other than the scrapes on her hands and knees, all she had suffered was severe bruising to her ribs; nothing was broken.

She’d be sore and stiff for a few days, and he’d advised her to take it easy and not to overdo it, something her mother had firmly said would not be an issue, and then he’d written prescriptions for muscle relaxers and pain medication that her mother had promptly sent out to be filled and delivered within the hour.

Talk of where they’d spend the summer hadn’t even been broached. Her father had spent the afternoon on the phone making quiet calls and she’d purposely not listened in because she didn’t want to know. Guilt still assailed her because she wasn’t a violent person. It went against her every instinct to willingly hurt another human being.

Her father had always worried that she was too soft—like her mother—but he hadn’t worried overly much, because her mother’s sweetness was what had drawn her father to her in the first place. Her father was a hard man. Unyielding. He could be scary when crossed and yet with her mother? He was a completely different man.