The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) 📕

“Hi, Emily.” The other man comes to stand next to the bed, then sits down on the edge. “I hear you’ve had a rough afternoon.”

Is it afternoon? Why’s my room so dark?

“Logan, maybe some light? I think she’s disoriented.”

“Sure.”

Logan moves away from the bed and pulls the curtain back from the glass door to the balcony. Warm Mexican sunlight slants in, across Michael’s square face and graying hair. He smiles at me.

“Hi, sir.”

“Ah, that’s better. Let’s check those vitals. Can you keep your eyes on my finger?”

He holds it up in front of my face, then moves it right and left, up and down, like he’s blessing me, which would make me giggle, except Logan’s watching over his shoulder and his eyes are very dark. Not that terrible black ice, but bleak and unhappy.

I’ve made him unhappy.

“Good,” Michael says. He reaches down into a bag he’s set at his feet and pulls out a stethoscope. He rubs the pad with his fingers before reaching under my fuzzy and putting it against my chest. I flinch. “Sorry, a little cold. Take a couple of nice, deep breaths for me. In and out.”

I breathe for him, which is most natural thing in the world now. Why was it so hard before?

“That’s great,” Michael says. “Let’s take a look at that throat.”

I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, which reminds me horribly of what happened before I choked. By the way Logan shifts behind the doctor, it reminds him, too.

Michael puts his warm fingers on either side of my throat and palpitates the glands under my chin.

“All fine. No swelling. No redness,” he says reassuringly. “Let’s check your temperature.”

He takes out a digital thermometer, one of the ones that looks like a pointy hammer. He pops a plastic sleeve on the tip, then inserts it into my ear.

While we wait for the beep, he asks, “How’s the tummy, Emily? Any pain?”

I would shake my head, but I have the thermometer in my ear. “No, sir.”

That horrible swirling feeling is gone. In fact, I’m kind of hungry.

“Good, good.” At the beep, he withdraws the plastic tip from my ear. He checks the display and smiles at me again. “All normal. Emily, are you on any medication? Birth control?”

“No medication. I have an implant.”

He smiles at me as he touches his fingertips to my forehead. “Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

“No.” I glance at Logan. “Did I have a panic attack?”

Logan moves around Michael and strokes my hair back from my forehead. “We’ll talk about it later, sweetheart. I want you to get some rest while I have a word with Michael.”

“Yes, um, Sir.”

His face tightens, but he leans down and kisses my forehead before he moves back to the window and draws the curtain again so the room dims. The two men are shadows as they move around the bed and through the connecting door. There’s a brief white flash in the filtered light, before Logan closes the door.

It was his eyes flashing, not his teeth. He didn’t smile at me.

I hear the murmur of voices, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. I’m sure they’re talking about me. A panic attack? No, I’ve never had a panic attack. I don’t think I had one in the bathroom. I just couldn’t breathe. I choked because Logan washed my mouth out with soap. Didn’t I?

I toss and turn, trying to remember exactly what happened. It’s all mixed up in my head and the more I try to remember, the more it swirls and darkens into old memories. The latrine stink. The water flooding up my nose. The hands holding me down.

I climb out of bed. I don’t like being alone in the dark. My mind just turns on me. I told Logan that, but he pulled the curtain and left me anyway. My fears probably don’t matter to him anymore. He can’t possibly want to be my daddy now.

I cross my cabin, pull open the curtain, slide the glass aside and step out onto the balcony. Warm, damp air rushes over my bare skin like a thousand, tiny kisses. My nipples tighten. Oops. No shirt. Are we still in international waters? I don’t remember hearing the three horns, but I also don’t want to break any more rules, even accidentally. I’ve gotten in enough trouble for the decade, much less one day.

I duck back into the cabin and grab a T-shirt out of the dresser before I return to the balcony. It’s my Suicide Squad T-shirt with “Daddy’s Little Monster” printed across my breasts. I have been a monster today, and not in a fun, Harley Quinn way. Why would anyone want to be my Dom after today?

I lean over the rail, watching the sunlight glimmer on the water. There are a lot of ships that pass, some overtaking us, some going other directions. Motoring along to their destinations. Some fast. Some slow. Each on their own course, alone.

I don’t want to be one of those solo craft. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want to be with Logan. He’s wonderful, even when he punishes me. I remember his care when I was on the bathroom floor. Clearing my throat with his fingers, holding me to his chest, telling me everything would be okay. And every time he shows me how wonderful he is, a kernel of fear swells inside me. I’m not good enough. I’m a stupid little girl when he’s used to women who look like a cross between Halle Berry and J. Lo and dress in black basque. I’m a stupid little girl who plays stupid little games. He doesn’t need to put up with me. He’ll ditch me after today, find someone else, and I’ll be alone again.

Swirling, dark water sucks me down.

I focus fiercely on the bright sunlight, trying to push back those memories. The bright glimmer on the water blinds me for a moment. I’m rubbing my tearing eyes when I hear the