The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection by Frost, J (great novels .txt) π
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I wash my face and brush my teeth with my finger. My toothbrush is still somewhere on the Pacific Ocean and the Marriottβs complementary cluster of soaps, shampoos, and lotions doesnβt include one. As I mechanically scrub the hours of stress, fear, and upset tummy off my teeth, I go over the phone calls Iβve made, trying to make sure I havenβt forgotten anything.
Logan made it easy for me. Along with the gun, baton, passport, and laptop that Shaan found in his safe, there were three, printed pages of instructions for me in the event of his incapacitation or death.
My daddy thinks of everything.
I made the calls he told me to make: his insurance company, his sister, his business partner, his club, and, of course, Miranda. I followed his instructions to the letter. With the exception of Miranda, every call went the way his instructions said they would go.
The insurance company accepted a code from Daddyβs instructions, which activated me as a named party on his policy, allowing the insurance company to deal with me rather than his next of kin. Thatβs something I never would have thought to do. Loganβs foresight left me sobbing silently while Niall hugged me like his arm was the only thing keeping me in one piece.
The insurance agent authorized the air ambulance, without any argument, although he spent a lot of time telling me about Loganβs co-pay and deductible, which, like mine, are horrific. I might have to sell my house after all. But, as Niallβs told me a hundred times, thatβs a worry for another day. The insurance agent also faxed a medical power of attorney to the hospital so that they would deal with me, too.
His sister, Lizbeth, cried, as he predicted. She said sheβd be on the next flight when I couldnβt tell her anything more than he was in surgery. Loganβs instruction said to tell her to stay home and take care of her girls. Lizabeth sobbed even harder when she said she would.
His business partner, Manny, was stoic and said that heβd take care of everything in New York until Logan got better. I thanked him and gave him all the contact numbers I could think of, the hospital and mine and Niallβs. I promised Iβd call as soon as I had any more news.
Daddy didnβt predict who his club would send to help me, only that theyβd send someone. The receptionist put me through to Mistress Maude when I gave the receptionist another code from Daddyβs instructions. After a momentβs silence, Maude made a quip about the hardness of Loganβs head, before she asked if Iβd prefer to have Master Javier or Master Ryan come to take care of me. I said Iβd be okay without anyone because Master Niall was with me, which Daddy couldnβt have anticipated. Maude humphed and said sheβd be on the next flight. Even though Iβve only met Mistress Maude once, the night of my first date with Daddy, that made me feel better than any other call.
The last call was Miranda. No surprise, that was the hardest call. Even though Iβve never spoken to her before, she knew who I was. She immediately made me feel that Loganβs injury was somehow my fault, that I couldnβt be trusted to negotiate the best care for him, and that heβd never recover unless she was at his bedside. She said sheβd be on the next flight, too. Unsurprisingly, that didnβt make me feel any better, but other than forbidding her to come, which I didnβt think sheβd listen to anyway, there really wasnβt much I could say to stop her.
Niall hugged me for a long time after I hung up.
He hugs me for a long time before I fall asleep, too, even though Iβm so exhausted I should be out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Finally, I curl away from him and stick my thumb in my mouth. Niall strokes my hair but doesnβt say anything, for which Iβm grateful. When my thumb comforts me enough, I fall asleep.
* * *
When I wake, thereβs a log around my waist. Itβs not the right log. Itβs too heavy, too thickly muscled, and it smells wrong, like floor cleaner and patchouli. Itβs not a great combo, but I probably stink after yesterday, too. Thankfully, thereβs no log anywhere else, and when I slide out from under Niallβs arm, he lets me go.
Iβve only slept a few hours, and my reflection in the bathroom mirror tells me I look as bad as I feel, but I canβt sleep anymore. I need to get back to the hospital to see if Loganβs woken up.
Without a change of clothes or a toothbrush, all I can do is wash with the hotel soap. The hotelβs combo shampoo/conditioner is going to turn my hair into a frizzy fright, but it canβt be helped. At least I smell a little better. My shirt and jean shorts are unpleasantly stiff and sticky when I put them back on. I wish Iβd chosen my clothes more carefully yesterday because theyβre not up to twenty-four hours continuous wear, but theyβre all I have until Iβm reunited with my luggage. I resign myself to looking like a circus clown when Miranda arrives. That sheβll be off a trans-Atlantic flight is a slight comfort. I bet sheβll still be perfectly groomed.
I roll my eyes at my reflection and trudge out into the bedroom.
Master Niall is sitting on the edge of the bed, texting, but he looks up and gives me a tired smile when I emerge from the bathroom. He holds his arm out. I sink onto the bed next to him and let him hug me.
βShaan and Vashiβll be here a little after noon. Dβyeh want some breakfast before we go to the hospital?β
I shake my head. I canβt even contemplate eating.
βI
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