Blade (Daddies Ink #2)

Chapter One

Eloise

Shivers wracked my body so hard that my teeth chattered. It was February in Georgia. Like today, most days were in the high seventies, but I was freezing. Just two more bins. I can make it two more bins. Checking my dollar store watch, I was relieved to see I still had plenty of time to get my bag of cans to the scrap yard. Maybe if Elias was working, he’d give me the higher rate and I’d be able to buy more medicine before I went to the shelter for the night.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I didn’t see the person standing in front of me until I looked up from the garbage bin.

“I’m not stealing. I’m just getting the c-cans,” I blurted at the man. Why did he look so familiar? Why couldn’t I place him?

“I know, Eloise.” He chuckled. “I was hoping you’d help me.”

“How do you know my name?” That was suspicious.

“I’m sorry. That was probably scary, huh? I work with Kay and we met when you returned her wallet the other day. My name is Blade.”

That’s where I recognized him from. Several weeks ago, I’d found Kay’s wallet in a garbage bin. Her home address had been too far for me to walk, but there were business cards in there and the tattoo shop she worked at, Daddies Ink, was close. I’d returned it there. She’d been so happy, she hugged me.

“Oh right, I’m sorry. What did you need help with?” I asked, cautiously. Life had taught me not to turn down a chance to help someone, just to be super cautious about doing it.

“I’m an artist and I really need aluminum cans for a sculpture I’m doing. I don’t have the time to collect as many as I need for a project and I was hoping I could buy them from you.”

“Well, how many do you need?” I asked, as another shiver shook my body.

“Are you okay, darlin’?”

“Yes. I’m f-fine. Thanks for asking. How many do you need?”

“Three thousand over the next three months. It’s a lot, I know, but I was thinking maybe I could buy the ones you find. If you don’t mind,” he said hopefully.

“I a-average about one hundred a day, so s-seven hundred a week. Seven times twelve is eighty-four-hundred in t-twelve weeks, which is more than you n-need, but that’s good because some days I m-might not be able to do it. It’s h-harder when it rains,” I said as I calculated. Thinking made the pain in my head ten times worse. It was excruciating.

He nodded. “It would really help me.”

“C-could you pay f-fifty-cents a p-pound?” That was what Elias gave me per pound when he was working.

A mixed look of sympathy and hurt flashed across the guy's face and it made me happy to know the world hadn’t made him callous to people in situations like mine. I worked over eight hours a day collecting cans and I made less than one dollar most days. Thankfully people were kind to me and often they would give me food to eat here and there. On days they didn’t, I used the money I earned to buy lunch. It wasn’t a good life. The shelter only offered us a place to sleep and shower. It opened at 8 pm every night and closed at 7 am the next morning. The woman who ran it was so sweet, but she couldn’t afford to do anything else for us. We tried to repay her by keeping the area clean and helping her with things. Last week, I’d hemmed all her granddaughter’s uniform pants for school. Another woman, Allyson, trimmed their hair before school started. The kindness I saw gave me the courage to keep dreaming that things would get better for us.

“I will pay you more than that, actually. I know it might mess up your schedule a bit. I would need you to drop all the cans you collected for the day in my truck, so I’ll pay you more for your time.”

“Which truck is yours?” I asked, thinking about the vehicles in the tattoo shop parking lot.

“It’s the only black one in the back parking lot.”

“H-how much are you p-paying then?” I didn’t want to sound too desperate, but even five-dollars a day would go a long way.

“How is twenty-five dollars a bag?”

Twenty-five dollars a bag? Holy shit. Swallowing my hopefulness and stomping down the butterflies in my stomach, I worked to control my feelings. He didn’t need to think I was desperate. That was unsafe, so I nodded instead. “T-that’s good.”

“Could we start today?” he asked, reaching into the pocket of his ripped jeans and pulling out his wallet.

“Y-yes, Sir.”

He extended his hand with the cash and I took it before handing him the bags of cans.

“You sure you’re okay, darlin’?”

I nodded, shivering again. “J-just cold.”

“It’s almost eighty degrees out here, Eloise. Do you feel 0kay?”

“I’m f-fine.”

“I’d believe you if your teeth weren’t chattering together.” He reached back in his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping on it before putting it back in his pocket.

“Will you come back to the shop with me? I want to make sure you’re okay.”

I shook my head, only causing myself more pain. “I-I need to get b-back to the shelter soon.” Yuck. Shaking my head had made me dizzy too.

“I promise I’ll handle that for you. Let me help you right now. I think you’re very sick, Little one.”

Another wave of dizziness crashed over me and I swayed, the ground was suddenly much closer to my face.

Did he call me Little one? No, I must want a Daddy so bad, I’m hallucinating.

“Alright, I’m taking the choice out of your hands,” he said as he lifted me in his arms and kept me from eating asphalt. “Fuck, you’re burning up.”

“My bag,” I cried, reaching out for it.

“I’ll come back for the cans.”

“No, my backpack.” It held everything I owned.

He snagged it from beside the bin I’d been sorting through and slid it onto his shoulder.

“How long have you been sick?”

“I think it’s my leg.”

“Your leg?”

I closed my eyes as another wave of fatigue washed over me. From the sounds around us, I could tell we were crossing Main Street and walking back toward Daddies Ink .

“What’s wrong with your leg?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“I got shot and I think it’s infected. I’ve been treating it…”

“You were shot?” he yelled.

“Just a tiny bit.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, change of plans.”

***

Blade

“What do you mean change of plans?” she asked, struggling in my arms.

“You’ve been shot. We’re going to the hospital. That’s where normal people go when they’ve been shot a tiny bit.” Seriously, what the fuck?

“N-no, please. I can’t go to the hospital. I’ll keep treating it at the shelter.”

“Darlin’, the fact that you are burning up from an infection is a good indicator that that plan isn’t working.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, still struggling in my arms.

I didn’t understand, but dammit I wanted to. I wanted to understand everything about the redheaded beauty I’d been lowkey stalking for months.

“Help me then?” I asked, not letting her down. I walked across the street without breaking a sweat. She was too thin. Boney elbows hit my gut as she tried to get away.

“Eloise, stop fighting me before you hurt yourself more. I’m taking you to Daddies Ink where my friend will come to us. He’s a doctor and he won’t leave a paper trail, but you do have to be treated, darlin’,” I tried to explain gently. It was hard because it felt like my heart was stuck in overdrive.

“He’ll find me, you have to let me go.”

He’ll find me. I’d figured she’d been in some kind of danger and her frantic words confirmed my suspicions.

“Who will find you, darlin’?” I asked, anger causing me to grind my teeth together. I would fucking kill him.

“My ex! Please, you have to let me go,” she begged. Her chest rose frantically and sweat beaded on her brow due to her physical exertion.

I took the steps up to Daddies Ink and Rogue, my pseudo Little niece, met me at the door. Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. “Did you just take a woman from Shorty’s Gas and More parking lot?”

“No!” I answered incredulously.

“Yes!” Eloise answered, still fighting.

Oh. Right. “Technically, that is correct, but…”

“But nothing! We’ve gotten three phone calls about one of our employees abducting women,” Rogue’s Daddy Dom, Leland, said as he rushed to the front.

Right. I was wearing a Daddies Ink shirt and my actions probably did look suspicious.

“This is Eloise,” I said by way of explanation.

“I am here against my will,” she supplied, finally collapsing in exhaustion.

“She’s very sick and Elliot is on his way,” I countered.

“So are the police,” Leland said, moving back so we could get inside.

“Fuck,” I grunted when Eloise elbowed me in the ribs again.

“Please, I have to go!” she cried, renewing her struggles at the mention of police.

“Is she in trouble?” Leland asked me.

“Yeah.”

“Take her to my office.”

“You don’t understand. He will hurt her too. He will hurt anyone in his path,” she said, pointing at Rogue.

“Not anymore, darlin’,” I said as everyone parted for me to carry Eloise through.

“Please, Blade,” she begged as I settled her into a chair in Leland’s office. “You don’t understand. I’m fine on my own. I’ve made it this far. It’s not safe for you or me to be here.” Under the office lighting it was easy to see the large bags under her eyes, made worse by her pallor.

I took her trembling hands in mine. “Listen to me, sweet girl, I promise you nobody is going to hurt you anymore. Rogue, the woman in the front, was held against her will for a very long time and she managed to escape with her twin sister. She fought like hell to get out of that situation just like I’m sure you have. I think that you two probably have a lot in common, huh?”

She nodded.

“Rogue and her sister, Emily, were able to stay safe because they have friends that love and protect them and now you do too. We can help you, sweet girl.”

“You don’t even know me!” she cried, exasperated.

“Sure I do. You’re Eloise.”

If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.

“Police are here,” Bash said as he rushed into the closet and shut the door.

Eloise looked at the closet door and then back at me. “Is he hiding?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I hated how her body shook from shivers.

“He and the police don’t really get along.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Headache, darlin’?”

“Yes. And its name is Blade.”

I nodded. “I get that a lot, actually.”

“From the other woman you’ve kidnapped?” she asked dryly.

I chuckled. “I have to say you’re my first felony.”

“Lovely.” She groaned.

“Heads up,” Leland called, tossing something at me.

Flipping it over in my hands, I realized it was a fake ID. Score. We’d probably confiscated this from some kid trying to get inked too young.

“Incoming,” Rogue said, sliding into the office and sitting in a chair beside Eloise.

“Alright, honey. For the next few minutes, you’re going to be Farrah Grace Adams. Memorize that address and birthday really fast, okay?” I said, handing the ID to Eloise and hoping the police didn’t study it too hard.