The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
Read free book Β«The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
Read book online Β«The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) πΒ». Author - Frost, J
Patting my pockets to make sure Iβve got the two boxes of brick, I back away from the spa supplies and quickly make my way down the long aisle. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out. Missed call from Miranda. Fuck. Iβll deal with her later. First, I need to get out of here and call Ed Isaak. With any luck, heβll still be at the office. We need to figure out a plan for getting Merullo off the boat tomorrow. We donβt dock at MazatlΓ‘n for another two days, but there is a helipad on the ship, so Iβm assuming they could airlift him off. I know Ed wonβt want to involve the Mexican authorities, but thereβs no way he can leave Merullo running around the boat. If this were a Navy vessel, we could stick him in the brig, but, despite a surplus of dungeons, Iβm guessing this ship doesnβt have a holding cell.
A flicker in my peripheral vision as I round the end of the aisle pulls me out of my thoughts. I have a split-second to react, snapping my head away and raising my arm, before a lightning bolt crashes through my head, driving me to my knees.
The painβs so sharp it drives the breath out of my chest, all thoughts out of my head. I slap at the floor in an attempt to support myself but collapse onto my side. The movement makes thunder roll through my ears and more lightning strike behind my eyes.
βYou fuck.β
The words draw my eyes up. Merulloβs standing at the end of the aisle, in the shadow of the shelving, holding a fire extinguisher with the nozzle near his shoulder and the butt-end pointed at me.
I see blood on the end of the extinguisher. My blood, which runs, stinging, into my right eye.
I squint through it as Merullo lifts the fire extinguisher again. I meet his eyes and see what he sees. Itβs so clear.
Me, lying on the floor, with my head bashed in.
I swallow hard as bile spurts into my throat. Fear. I know this feeling. I felt it a hundred, hundred times bouncing through the churned, blue waters of the Gulf of Aden.
This time the fear isnβt for me or my men. I donβt care about my own life in this moment.
I care about the little girl waiting in her cabin. Waiting for her daddy to return. My little girl. Iβd do anything not to leave her. Even beg for my life, although I donβt think it would bend the bastard.
Maybe the truth will.
βItβs too late,β I rasp through bile and fear. βThey know itβs you. I found the brick.β I reach shakily into my pocket and pull out one of the white boxes. βPut the extinguisher down, mate. You hit me again, and itβs murder. Youβll never run far enough. Be smart. Pink Pearl doesnβt want bad publicity. Theyβll cut a deal. Just put it down.β
Merulloβs eyes flick from my face to the white box in my hand. βYou fuck,β he repeats.
I tuck the box back into my pocket and hold my hand out placatingly. βPut the extinguisher down. Letβs call Ed Isaak. We can work this out.β
Merulloβs nostrils flare. He takes a slightly different grip on the extinguisher before he snaps it at my face. I throw my arm up to deflect the blow, but still feel the lightning strike again inside my head before everything goes dark.
Chapter Sixteen Emily
Daddyβs late.
Iβve been waiting on the floor of my room, naked except for the cute, striped thigh-highs he likes so much, since five twenty-eight. Iβve been waiting to hear the click that means heβs unlocked his side of the connecting door. Waiting while my nose twitches from the dust in the carpet. Waiting until my knees and hips ache.
Iβve been waiting too long.
Loganβs always on time. He wouldnβt be late for this, would he? He told me heβd be back at five thirty for the last edging scene. Despite how well our last scene went, Iβm a little anxious about this oneβit feels so important that it goes rightβand the waiting is making my anxiety mount. He wouldnβt keep me waiting just to make me anxious, would he?
I turn my head to look at the clock on my bedside table, but I canβt see it from where I am at the bottom of the bed. Damn.
I put my head back down between my arms and tell myself to be patient. Daddyβs coming. If he was going to be really late, heβd text me. Although I canβt see my phone, which is beside the stupid clock, Iβd hear the text notification. Which I havenβt. I need to be patient. My submission is whatβs important, not my little discomforts. Daddy wants me to be ready and waiting. I want him to come in and find me in position and start the scene smiling and calling me his good girl.
I wait. Knees and hips aching. Nose tickling.
I finally sneeze and lose patience. Thereβs nothing sexy about this and itβs not cool for Daddy to make me wait so long. I climb up off the floor and look at the clock.
5:47 p.m.
I grab my phone. No messages. No way would Logan be seventeen minutes late without telling me.
Somethingβs wrong.
I try the connecting door. Itβs still locked on his side. I knock, and knock, and knock. No answer.
Gritting my teeth at
Comments (0)