Regret (Book 2, the Redemption Series)

Chapter 2

A small figure entered the apartment.

Jake turned on the lights; the knife poised to strike. The girl screamed, clutching her chest. The plastic bag she was holding fell to the floor.

"Sam!" Jake quickly lowering the knife.

"Dad! You scared the crap out of me."

"What the hell is going on?" Jake asked, realizing his daughter was unharmed.

Sam shook her head. "Exactly! What is going on? You were about to stab me with a knife."

"Sorry, honey, but I thought . . ."

"Yes?" She looked at him quizzically.

"Well, never mind what I thought."

He returned the knife to the utensil drawer and then embraced his daughter. She softened in his arms as he squeezed her tight. He missed this; he'd been gone too long. After a few seconds, he released his hold on Sam and asked, "Why is there blood in the kitchen?"

Sam laughed. "I was emptying the stupid dishwasher for you, and I dropped a glass. I cut myself on one of the pieces, and you didn't have band-aids, so I had to go out and buy some."

"Ohhh."

"You didn't see all the broken glass in the garbage?"

Jake shook his head. "I always check my garbage first thing when I get home, but I forgot this time."

Sam rolled her eyes. "What did you think happened?"

"Truthfully?"

"Yes."

"I thought someone had broken in and had hurt you."

Sucking in a breath, Sam said, "Boy, if that happened, you'd kill the guy."

It was Jake's turn to laugh, but it came out as a nervous chuckle.

Sam went to the door to retrieve her bag from the local drug store. She looked exactly like her mother when Jake and Kate first met— red hair, alabaster skin, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that could light a stick of dynamite. Kate had been gorgeous, a fact that clouded Jake's judgement because the woman had some personality flaws. Luckily or unluckily, Sam had Jake's temperament, which meant she was caring and kind but impulsiveness.

"Could you help me?" She sat down at the table and fumbled inside the bag. Her left hand was wrapped in a paper towel. Blood seeped through the white cotton.

"Sure." He grabbed the first aid cream and squirted some on a piece of gauze, dabbing it gently on the cut.

She flinched. "At least, it wasn't my right hand. It would have made painting hard."

"Good thing. Did you finish that portrait you were working on? You never told me what it was about."

"I had to start over. I'll show it to you when I'm done."

"Fair enough." Taking the box from the bag, he removed a bandage from its wrapper. He placed it over the wound and tenderly press down over the wound.

Wincing, she said, "You need to do a better job of stocking this place."

"I know. I will. I tried calling you before you got back. Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"It's dead, and I forgot my charger. Can I borrow yours?"

Jake finished applying the bandage. "Sure."