Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“No, love. I don’t ever leave what’s mine.”
That quickly, she returned to my embrace, and she was sobbing into the side of my neck with her string-bean arms wrapped around me.
I held her tight, rubbing her back, rocking her a bit, telling her I was there to help her and watch over her and keep her safe. It took some time to get all that out of her system, and when she was done, I asked where her bathroom was. We walked to her room, out of the kitchen, through the dining room and around a wall that, on the other side of, were stairs that led up to the second floor. Her room, last one on the right, was a wonderland of fairy lights, murals, and flower rugs. Her bathroom was all mermaids, from the shower curtain to the light fixture to the shell-shaped sink. It made me happy to see. Easy to see how loved she was, and that helped soothe my worry.
Once there, I pulled tissue after tissue and had her blow her nose until there was nothing left. I then supervised the washing of the face, and she showed me her routine. I had no idea ten-year-olds even did that, but what I knew about little girls left a lot to be desired. She still appeared blotchy after all that, and her eyes were puffy, but it was as good as it was going to get. I made sure she felt better before we left her room.
“Okay,” I said once we were back in the kitchen. “Sounds like we gotta go shopping, but first, do you know where everyone is?”
She nodded.
“Would you tell me?”
There was squinting then, and I couldn’t help smiling.
“I know your name, and I know you’re here to take care of me, but who are you, exactly?”
I pulled my ID out for her and passed it over.
After a moment of scrutiny, which I was careful not to smile over—this was serious, after all—she looked up at me. “Chicago?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lifting my jacket, I showed her my shoulder holster and the Glock 19 there, and then passed her my conceal and carry license.
“So if someone tried to hurt me, you would shoot them.”
Wow. Straight to violence with this one. “Well, I would do other things first, and even then, I would wound them, not kill them.”
“That’s good.” She gave me back my licenses, studying my face. “Do you have pictures of your kids?”
“I don’t have any kids.”
“Are you married?”
It was an interrogation, and compared to others I’d been on the receiving end of, this was by far the best one ever. “No, I’m not.”
“How come?”
“Never found the right person.”
She crossed her arms. “Lots of women around here want to date my dad.”
I had no doubt. Luke Duchesne, with his short dirty-blond hair, stubble, golden tan, and deep, dark blue-green eyes he’d passed on to all three kids in various shades, was a beautiful man. If the pictures in the file did him any justice, I was betting lots of women had designs on him. As both men and women caught my eye, I’d noticed right away.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “But he works so much, he doesn’t have time to date.”
“I see.”
“He hardly has time to see us,” she said under her breath.
“I’m sorry about that.”
There were quick tears then.
Using my thumb, I got her left cheek and under her eye. “Try not to cry any more, or we’ll have to go wash the sad off a second time.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself.
“All right, now, we need to feed you, so we gotta go get groceries, as long as you’re sure there’s nothing in the refrigerator.”
“Go see. It’s all in the freezer. Dad stocked it before he left.”
After a quick perusal, I concluded that she was not wrong. “Okay, so yeah, we gotta go, because I can’t eat any of that.”
“It’s gross, right?”
“It’s not gross,” I said, not wanting to throw her father under the bus. “But I’m not one for processed food. I eat a lot of veggies and grilled chicken.”
“Gross.”
“But we can make other things too,” I offered.
The instant smile, how big her eyes grew, was quite telling. She was starved for home-cooked meals. I was betting, from the look of the large kitchen, that her mother had been the one making the meals for her family.
“I told him not to get so much junk, but he was in a hurry to leave.”
Which sounded horrible. “Well,” I said, closing the door, “can we walk it, or is there a car here I can borrow?”
“You could drive Mom’s Jeep. The keys are on the hooks by the garage door.”
“Sounds good. Now, where is everybody, honey?”
“Dad is in some place called Blaze or Blake or something like that. I wasn’t really listening, and he didn’t write it down. I do know he’s on a big landscaping job for a millionaire or a billionaire, but…”