You, And No Other. Lynda Sandoval

victoriously. He knew he had her. “What will it be? Prom with a boy who will never be worthy of you, or a college education? Your choice.”

      Everything inside her went cold. She couldn’t feel. Couldn’t react appropriately. She should be weeping, screaming at him like Terri would’ve been. Instead, she just felt numb. Trapped. Tortured. “College, Chief. Of course college. What do you think I am, some kind of an idiot?”

      He released her wrist, disgust in his expression. “Considering your choice of associates, sometimes I wonder.” He swaggered over to her purse, opened it, removed her cell phone, then walked to the wall and unplugged her home extension. “These go with me. Now that I know I can’t trust you. Don’t even try to use the computer, either. The modem is also with me.”

      Icy fury bubbled in her throat.

       Fight it back. Fight it back.

      “There is no getting around this, so don’t bother trying. I’ll be staying home tomorrow to monitor you until your date picks you up for prom.”

      “I’m not your prisoner, you know.” Though sometimes she wondered.

      “No, you’re my daughter, who lives in my house and abides by my rules. Who will be your date?”

      No answer.

      “Fine.” He started toward the door. “Don’t go at all. I’d prefer that anyway.”

      “No, wait.” She blew out a steadying breath. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in this oppressive house while her best friends in the world were at prom, especially knowing it would be her father’s preference. Her heart ached for Jonas, but she was backed into a corner. She supposed she could call him from the dance and have him meet her there. That was something. “I’ll go stag. With my friends.”

      “Forget it. Only losers and sluts go stag.”

      “That’s not true!”

      He shrugged. “Name an escort or stay home.”

      She blew out her frustration. “Tad Rivers, I guess?” she muttered. “He asked me, and I don’t think he has another date. He’d planned on going stag.” She glared up through her lashes. “So, is he a loser because of that or does he pass your inspection? His dad’s the city attorney.”

      “I’ll call Will Rivers right now.”

      “I want to go in a group. With my friends. Mick and Erin and Lexy are all going together with their dates.” Maybe she could get word to Jonas that he’d have to meet her there if she had the chance to rearrange plans with them. “If I can just call Lexy—”

      “I’ll take care of it.”

      “Gee, thanks. Do you even know what to say to her?”

      He held up a finger. “Cut the snotty attitude. I’m doing you a favor. You should be thanking me.”

      Cagney clenched her fists so hard that her fingernails drew blood in her palms, but she welcomed the sting. If she couldn’t go with Jonas, she was going to smuggle in the alcohol and get stinking drunk. Her father deserved that slap in the face, at least.

      “Your mother said dinner is in twenty minutes.”

      “I’m not hungry,” she muttered.

      He whipped back, frowning. “I don’t give a damn if you ate three lunches and you’re stuffed full. Your mother cooked a meal, which is more than that worthless drunk Ava Eberhardt did tonight, I’m sure, and you’ll be at the table in twenty minutes. Do I make myself clear?”

      A long pause ensued, during which she contemplated defending Jonas’s mother, toyed with telling Chief exactly where to go. Then she remembered her college escape plan, his invisible financial choke collar on her. He hadn’t even allowed her to work a part-time job during high school, so she had no money of her own. Zippo. Not a dime. Just another way for him to keep her under his thumb.

      “Yes, sir,” she said, an emotionless, powerless shell.

      “I’m glad to see you can be reasonable. On occasion. I won’t forget your defiance, Cagney.”

      She met his gaze directly but managed to leach the emotion from her words. “I feel sorry for you, Chief.”

      His lips thinned. “Save it.” And with that, he left.

      Cagney’s feelings were twisted and stuffed so far inside her she couldn’t even cry. Her father deadened every part of her—it seemed the only way she could survive. She couldn’t even trust that her feelings were real anymore. When she hurt, did she really hurt? She thought she felt the cold clutch of fear sometimes, but was it truly fear or something else? How could she know? Everything was messed up inside her. She rested her face in her hands and breathed deeply.

      Any other girl might be able to go to her mother for an ally in an argument like this, but her mom—Cagney shook her head. Look up the word passive in the dictionary, and you’d find a picture of Mom beside the word. She’d never defy Chief, not even to righteously defend her daughters.

      Cagney sighed.

      They would pull through this, she and Jonas.

      He would get over the disappointment. He loved her.

      He’d meet her at the dance, and they’d proceed as planned. It wouldn’t be the way they’d hoped the night would play out, but somehow … some way, she’d explain away all the hassle and lies and convolutions.

      And Jonas, as always, would understand.

      Jonas still couldn’t believe how much it cost to rent an uncomfortable penguin suit for one measly night. It was worth it, though. For Cagney. A mixture of excitement and dread swirled inside him as he pulled his mom’s decrepit Monte Carlo into the circular drive in front of her house, half expecting her father to come smashing out of the door, shotgun in hand. He turned off the engine and waited, holding his breath. Nothing happened.

      He studied the front of the imposing, impeccable stone house trying not to compare it to his and mom’s shabby mobile home with its loose metal siding and squeaky porch stairs. Still, this house might be big, impressive from the outside, but he knew from Cagney how little love resided within its walls. He’d take his troubled but sweet mom and their rented trailer any day of the week.

      To his surprise, the Bishops’ porch light flicked on. He didn’t know whether to take that as welcome or warning, but one thing was sure—stalling in the driveway would get him nowhere fast.

      Blowing out a breath, he retrieved the orchid wrist corsage he’d picked up for Cagney at the grocery store florist and stepped out of the car. He took a moment to button his jacket and smooth his hair before heading toward the porch.

      Now or never, he supposed.

      The front door opened before he ever got a chance to ring the doorbell, and Chief Bishop stepped out, scowling as usual. Jonas honestly didn’t know what he’d ever done to make the man despise him so much. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Sir.”

      “Don’t ‘sir’ me.” The man’s eyebrows dipped into a deep V. “What do you think you’re doing setting foot on my property?”

      For a moment, the sheer rudeness of the question threw Jonas, and he couldn’t formulate a response. Cagney hadn’t been at school, nor had she returned any of his many phone calls or e-mails, but surely by now Chief Bishop knew who her prom date was. His mouth went dry, and he moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue to bolster his waning courage. “I’m here to pick up Cagney for the prom.”

      The older man’s laughter fell to the stone floor of the porch like shattering icicles, cold and sharp. He stood, legs apart, arms crossed over his wide chest. “Hate to burst your bubble, but Cagney left for the prom half an hour ago with her date, Tad Rivers. And her friends. Go on home now. Get.”

      Jonas blinked