“Because if, as you say, they were trying to kill me when they cut loose with that hail of bullets on the highway, that means they followed me back here—or hired someone. Again, why? Assuming it’s the people who’ve been threatening the general, why not when they had me in their custody for hours on end?”

Because they wanted to torture her for information they thought her father might have revealed to her—or information they thought the man would be willing to trade in exchange for her life? He bit his tongue on the words. If she hadn’t come to that conclusion, he wouldn’t put it in her head. “Maybe they were supposed to and decided they’d rather make more money by trafficking you?”

She frowned and gave a slow nod. “Okay, that makes sense.”

But he could tell she wasn’t completely sold on the idea.

Bad pun not intended.

“It makes sense,” she said again, “but it doesn’t.”

“Why don’t you sleep on it?”

“And this whole thing with Brianne doesn’t make any sense either,” she said as though he hadn’t spoken. “Brianne Davis.”

“Caden’s friend at the FBI, Annie, is looking into her as well, isn’t she?”

“Supposed to be. I haven’t heard anything.” She flicked a glance into the kitchen. “Speaking of Caden, where is he?”

“Working, I would think.” He paused. “What was it like growing up with the general?”

She turned the television off and set the remote on the back of the sofa. “Painful.”

The soft word barely reached his ears. When he processed what she said, he winced. “How so?”

She shrugged. “It just seems every time I turned around, he was leaving again. Mom never seemed to mind. Or if she did, she simply accepted it.”

“She knew what the life was like when she married him, didn’t she?”

“Of course, but in my opinion, they shouldn’t have brought kids into it.”

“That’s pretty harsh, don’t you think?”

She locked her gaze on his. “After one particularly nasty confrontation with the general, I asked him why they had us. You know what his answer was?”

“No.”

“‘I agreed to shut your mom up. Kids were her idea. I just went along with it because I was tired of hearing her whine about it.’”

“Okay, that was harsh.” He paused. “He really said that?”

“A direct quote.” She set the half-eaten bowl of ice cream on the coffee table. “Just for the record, my mother never whined about anything—not even when she was dying from stomach cancer.”

He stilled. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I am too.”

“She was strong.”

“So very strong.”

“You’re like her.”

She started, then smiled. “I’d love to think so.”

“Regardless of what he said or whether you believe it or not, your father loves you.”