Free Dare You to Run by Dawn Ryder Page A

and powerful called the shots. Jeb Ryland was a prick with a serious control issue when it came to his daughter’s snatch. Half the politicians’ daughters in Washington fucked to their heart’s contentment. No one gave a fig, so long as they kept it out of the tabloids and off YouTube.
    But Carl Davis seemed to like the idea of having a pony no one else had ridden. Tyler shrugged, not really caring one way or the other. But recognizing that idea of exclusivity got him thinking about a way to deal with Vitus and Saxon Hale.
    Jeb Ryland wasn’t the only one who could see uses for his daughter.

 
    CHAPTER TWO
    A blender was running in the kitchen, and a moment later there was a squeak from her mother as the machine made a grinding noise and something hit the title floor. The shattering sound of glass was followed by a round of laughter. Damascus came around the corner but ended up being pushed back as one of the private security men went charging in to investigate what was happening.
    â€œIt’s fine … fine…” Her mother was laughing so hard, she couldn’t quite get her words out. “I’m just fumble-fingered.”
    Her mother laughed again as Damascus got through the doorway.
    â€œBaby!” Her mother exclaimed, holding open her arms. Damascus ducked around the security man and into her mother’s embrace.
    â€œI wanted to make breakfast,” her mother explained. A maid had emerged to clean up the remains of the blender and whatever concoction her mother had been trying to make. There was a splattered cookbook sitting on the counter along with about a dozen containers from the pantry.
    â€œYeah?” Damascus emerged from her mother’s embrace and sent her a smile. There was a scent of something burning, and Damascus turned to see the security man yanking the oven door open. Smoke rolled out in a thick cloud as he reached in and pulled a baking dish out that had burnt butter bubbling ominously in it.
    â€œThat’s great Mom.” Damascus started steering her mother out of the kitchen as the staff dealt with the mess. The cook was rolling her eyes and biting her lip. “Let’s get some coffee on the porch.”
    â€œDon’t think I’m not onto you, Damascus,” her mother muttered as Damascus ushered her out onto the back porch.
    Damascus shrugged and sat down at a table already set with a coffee pot.
    Her mother sat down with a little moue on her lips. “I am from the South. Cooking should be in my genes.”
    The maid had emerged from the house with a tray and a smothered snort. Her mother turned to look at her.
    â€œWell, it should be,” her mother exclaimed with just a hint of a whine.
    â€œYou just don’t have the time to learn,” Damascus said as she hid her smile behind a mug. Her mother was delicate and whimsical and completely perfect, so long as you didn’t need anything cooked.
    â€œThat is for certain,” her mother sighed “I can’t believe how tight my schedule is. I am never home anymore.”
    â€œThat’s because you are in demand.” Jeb Ryland joined them, playing the part of a loving family member. Damascus felt her skin prickle. Jeb was a different person when her mother was around. He smiled at his wife, dropping a kiss on her cheek. Damascus watched the way her mother smiled back at him; there was a sparkle in her eyes that needed no explanation.
    She loved him, believed in him, and that kept Damascus’s lips firmly sealed. She knew what it was like to be denied the man she loved. There was no way she was going to shatter her mother’s illusions.
    â€œWell, I am happy to be doing my share for your career,” Miranda Delacroix Ryland declared. Born and breed into a Southern political family, her mother had been groomed since birth to be the wife of a high elected official.
    Damascus had never questioned that path until she’d met Vitus and been