Fate Book Two Read Online Free PDF Page A

mystery even to me. On the outside, he was the sort of man you might see walking through an airport—briefcase in one hand, cell in the other—and assume he was an uptight executive who’d lost his ability to smile. Tall, athletic, with broad shoulders, short silver hair, and a serious expression, he’s the sort of person people noticed and easily forgot. Unless you pissed him off. Then you never forgot. Scary.
    When I was little, I used to think everyone’s dad was like mine: distant both emotionally and physically, only making an appearance when schedules permitted. But on those rare occasions when we’d spend time together—a random vacation to Disneyland, a weekend in Palm Springs, dinner in San Francisco—it was the best feeling in the world. Because for those few moments, I felt important. Dad had pushed aside whatever was on his plate to spend time with me.
    As I grew older, though, I began to see him in another light. While on an unauthorized shopping trip with Mandy during school hours, I’d spotted him in the city with another woman. That was the day I realized my father wasn’t who I thought. Nor was he like the other dads. Mine was a man with secrets, and later, I would discover I was one of them. Officially, he held the title of CEO for his modeling agency based out of the UK. He had a wife (a.k.a. “the other woman”)—a decoy who worked for him—and no children. Privately, however, he ran the world’s most powerful underground organization with a handful of trusted men. He answered to no one but himself, operating outside the confines of any laws or international treaties, gathering information for the “good guys.” (A subjective term, depending which side you were on.) Privately, he was married to my mom and had a daughter.
    One might say the man lived a life only heard of in Hollywood spy flicks. Only, there was no glamour in this crappy version. My life had been permanently disfigured by his choices, and I knew I would forever be looking over my shoulder, because his enemies would always see me as a way to get to him. And that was why Paolo meant so much to me; he was my safe haven in all this.
    “Sit down, Dakota.” My father’s light-gray eyes flickered with annoyance, and he pointed to a lonely office chair in the corner that had been abandoned by the previous occupants along with the beat-up desk.
    “What are you doing here?” I asked, still frozen in the doorway.
    The look on his face indicated he was about to start yelling. “Close the door. And sit.” He wore his usual tailored dark-gray suit, which was atypically wrinkled today, indicating he’d just flown in from somewhere far away.
    I slowly did as he asked with the door, but leaned against it. I wasn’t a child any longer, and mentally I’d already revoked his “dad card.”
    I crossed my arms. “What are you doing here?”
    “What are you doing here?” The deep lines in his forehead scrunched together, and his lower lids were lost in a sea of dark shadows. He was tired and on a short fuse.
    Stay strong, Dakota.
    “Clearly this is an office. And I’m standing in it,” I replied.
    “With a view of your own safe house? Were you planning to spy on yourself?” he asked.
    “How did you find this place?” I asked bluntly.
    “The rental agency you used ran a credit check on Penny Prentise.”
    A testament to my father’s powerful connections, he had secret access to every agency and database imaginable. I’m sure he had standing alerts set up—credit, INS, CIA, police reports, etc.—anytime my name (or one of my aliases) popped up anywhere. After all, if he could find me that way, then so could someone else—something he didn’t want. All that said, the question begged, “How did you know about my alias?”
    My father’s harsh gaze softened a bit, and he loosened his black silk tie. “Why don’t you sit?”
    “If I sit, will you start answering my questions?”
    “Why do you think I’m here?”
    Oh, the