11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Gideon
I leaned forward and gazed at Dion, not quite sure I’d heard what he said. “Say that again.”
“You know my cousin Duke.” I knew he ran a security company with his partner Chris because that’s who Saul, who had helped us rescue the Little, worked for.
“And he finds people?” I asked, intrigued.
Dion shrugged. “Officially, they’re bodyguards and Chris runs that side of the business. Duke handles the unofficial stuff. Duke started because his ex-sergeant’s sister went missing. She’s a Little.”
Walker leaned forward. “And why should that make a difference?”
“Because he’s gotten a database of clubs that welcome age-play. Information, contacts. Sascha’s okay now and actually Duke is her Daddy, but without that knowledge, he wouldn’t have been able to find her. It was a psycho posing as a Daddy Dom.”
“And they what…turn over that info over to the cops?” Walker asked skeptically.
Dion snorted. “Hardly. They use the lessons we all learned in combat. They get them back themselves and either deal with the fucker or turn it over if they have the easy evidence lawyers like. Very similar to what we’ve done, but they do everything, including long-term safe houses, not just the extraction for the client, and this is their full-time gig.”
“And you’re proposing…what?” I asked, intrigued.
Dion smiled. “We’re bored as fuck. We all know it. Salvation and the rest were exciting when they were new, but we all have competent managers now. Last month was a favor because it was on our home turf, but what if we did more?” He looked right at me. “You know people like that fucker with the Little and Dave Kirkman can’t be fought with lawyers.”
I grunted. Dion was right.
“So we specialize like the Denver team?” Walker asked. “Subs? Littles? We’ve taken back hostages when officially the government couldn’t, but that Little was our first here.” He shot a look at Max, who was firmly looking at the floor and had stayed silent. We all knew that job had affected him like none of the horrors we’d seen before, but the one time I’d asked he’d clammed up.
“Even just Littles if we want to,” Dion said. “You know they’re incredibly vulnerable because the whole scene is really private, and because age-play has such huge trust issues. Grown men and women admitting they like any sort of age regression isn’t generally shared with the class. Duke got Sascha back only because she confided a tiny bit of information to her bestie, who’s also a Little. Even then, it was definitely not something the cops could have either found out or realized the significance of if they did.”
“I’m in.” Walker leaned back and crossed his arms. “And we have a huge advantage the Denver guys don’t have. We have the clubs and pretty much know all the other owners.”
Dion nodded in agreement. “It’ll be good to fight bad guys again.”
“What info did Duke need that he thinks we can help with?” I asked, intrigued. Duke had contacted Dion this morning, which had led to this whole conversation.
“He just wants info on a so-called Daddy because he’s a member but never visited. I put Eric on it.”
I glanced at my phone. Two hours until I collected Abby. The professional movers had finished clearing out Abby’s apartment. I’d gone and packed her bedroom myself after taking her to work so they wouldn’t see anything she didn’t want them to.
Dave Kirkman and his father were facing a world of hurt after the call I had made yesterday to stir things up a little. I’d love to have ended him, and it wasn’t like we didn’t know guys we could trust, but everyone had seen me yesterday, so on this occasion having him suddenly disappear could take some explaining. The alerts kept going off on my phone and that would happen until our security expert went this afternoon to remove the camera. I kept glancing at the phone to check that Kirkman hadn’t completely lost his mind and was giving the movers hell, but an hour later I got a text confirming everything was packed and the apartment cleared .
I’d gotten all Abby’s stuffies arranged on the daybed in the nursery where she could cuddle them or nap while I worked. I didn’t like the idea of her being alone at the house, though, if I ever had to leave for a meeting. Maybe I should get her a guard dog? She liked dogs, and some of them could be trained to spot low blood sugar. Although, she had low blood pressure . I wasn’t sure how that worked, but it was something to look into.
I had plenty of time, and I silently congratulated myself on getting her things all moved. I’d made the mistake twice now of giving her too many choices, and I knew she didn’t do well with that scenario. Presenting her with a done deal would be much better. I also had to get creative with punishments. I’d backed off because of her health, but the guys were right. Abby putting herself in danger, and lying to her Daddy in any way, was completely unacceptable.
My phone buzzed with another alert, and for a second, I nearly ignored it. All her things were moved. She would never be going back there again, but I pulled it from my pocket, then nearly dropped the damn thing as I stared in disbelief at Abby walking into the apartment. Not only should she still be at work, but that fucker Richard Martin had his arm around her. I snarled, and Maddox stopped mid-sentence in his conversation with Dion. “What is it?”
I didn’t pause to explain, just turned and ran.
Abigail
“Where’s all your stuff?” Ricky asked.
I shook my head mutely, then managed to get my legs to work enough to carry me to my bedroom, but it was just as empty. My things, my stuffies…my clock and, oh, my list . My knees failed me, and I sat down abruptly on the floor .
“Were you robbed?” Ricky said, pulling out his phone. “I mean, I have to go back to work, but I can call the cops?”
I shook my head mutely. It had to be Kirkman. But all my things? “It’s my landlord,” I whispered. And I finally took in Ricky’s question. The cops scared me, and I didn’t trust Kirkman not to have a friend that worked there, or even someone his dad paid off.
“Did you owe rent?” he asked uncomfortably. I shook my head.
“Look, Abigail. Can I call someone for you?” Ricky shuffled from foot to foot. Then I realized he needed to get back to work. I needed to act like the grown-up I was supposed to be, but for a moment, a very long moment, I wanted the person who told me this weekend it was safe to act like a Little. To give him all my problems. It would be so easy, and I knew he would help, but he’d punched Kirkman once already.
“He might get charged with assault,” I whispered. Thinking of the cops, the boys in blue as one of my foster-dads had called them. What was that show he liked? “Blue Bloods.” But then I realized by Ricky’s face that I’d answered myself out loud.
“Can I call someone then?” he said, even as he took a step back. I shook my head.
“I got it,” I said, trying to smile brightly, or to look vaguely competent, and I stood up.
Ricky nodded, his relief obvious, and he left. And again, I was reminded of the stark difference in his behavior and Daddy’s. “No,” I sighed. “He’s not your Daddy.” It was funny because I felt calm. Almost as if there wasn’t anything worse than could happen, so I could deal with it. But I needed my list. I also needed Big Bear, my stuffie, and as I knew Kirkman had cleared my stuff out in punishment, that meant they would be in the dumpsters out back.
Which meant I had to go get them. It wasn’t like I didn’t know where the dumpsters were. We didn’t exactly have valet trash. And I needed to hurry.
I managed to sneak out the back way past the awful laundry I chose not to look at and let myself into the parking lot. Kirkman charged for parking, so I supposed it was a good thing I didn’t have a car. Silver linings and all that. I giggled and wondered if this was what being drunk felt like. I felt ridiculous. All my things had been stolen, and I’d been fired. It couldn’t get much worse, but then I remembered Kirkman’s hands on me yesterday and knew I was wrong.
I stood and looked at the dumpsters. One was usually open, which was a good thing because I was short, except they were both closed now. I spied the crates I usually had to stand on even to throw my trash in. Actually, getting the lid off the dumpsters would be more of a challenge, but I wasn’t prepared to walk away.
I had no idea how I even managed to open the lid far enough for me to see and I nearly gagged at the smell, but pushed it as high as I could and peered in.
“ABIGAIL,” came the shout just as I looked down, and I had to admit if it hadn’t been for the strong arms that surrounded my waist I might have fallen in. As it was I was clutched to a strong chest having kisses pressed into my hair.
Which I could get used to.
“What the fuck , baby girl?” Gideon nearly shouted at me. “Why aren’t you at work and what the fuck was that toe-rag doing with you in your old apartment? ”
Tears filled my eyes because I’d wanted Daddy to save me so damn much and he was here, and he groaned before pressing me against his chest again. “Do you know how much you just terrified me? What were you thinking?”
And in a very small voice, even to me, I whispered, “I got fired.”
“Well, thank fuck,” Daddy muttered, which didn’t seem to make any sense. Then two other cars screeched into the parking lot and a man—Maddox, because I knew him—erupted out of one and a really dangerous-looking one with a lot of tattoos jumped out of the other. Daddy knew him though, so that was okay, and told me his name was Dion.
And because everything was really overwhelming, my legs wobbled and my head swam, but Daddy simply lifted me up and cradle-carried me until I was tucked and belted into his car, and we were driving home.
I closed my eyes and might have pretended to be asleep because I knew when we got back it was going to be bad, but then I remembered everything and sat up as we pulled into the drive. “I was robbed.”
Daddy swung his head to me as he turned off the engine.
“My apartment was emptied. It was Kirkman, I know it.”
“No baby girl, it was me.”
I gaped. Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t on the list. “Why?” Because I was just about ready to scream.
“Because you’re moving in with me. We settled this. I’m your Daddy, baby girl. You live with me.”
Everything in me fluttered. I so wanted it to be true. But no, this was bad. When he’d had enough of me, I wouldn’t even have somewhere to live.
“Tell me what happened this morning. ”
So, I did. He didn’t ask many questions, but I could tell he was cross I hadn’t called him when I got fired. I practically scrambled out of the car and I nearly ran in, wanting to see my things, and sure enough, I could see some boxes in the entrance.
I turned with a huge smile on my face until I saw his face and my smile withered so fast it was like it wasn’t there. Disappointment creased his features and my heart sank. I was in trouble even if I thought I had done the right thing, and it was clear Daddy didn’t agree with me.
“Do you know what a Daddy is?” he asked as he led me into the mud room and bent down to undo my laces.
Was this a test?
“He’s someone who always looks after a Little,” I said confidently, balancing my hands on his shoulders as I lifted first one foot then the other. “Has her best interests at heart,” I added in case that got me extra points.
He nodded and led me upstairs to the bedroom. “And how would her Daddy know what her best interests are?”
I puzzled that over. Daddies seemed psychic, but they might not be. “She tells him?” I offered, hoping that was the right answer.
“Yes, exactly,” Daddy agreed. “And what might happen if she doesn’t tell him?”
Well, hell . But I knew. “Then she gets in trouble,” I mumbled.
Daddy took my chin and made me look into those gorgeous eyes. “The problem can sometimes be that the Little doesn’t know they can trust the Daddy yet. That the Daddy hasn’t been clear enough.”
Oh god, I wished. I wished so hard.
“So, this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to unpack. You’ll see I both packed and unpacked your bedroom myself.”
Of course he had, which made all my doubts a million percent worse.
“We’re going to go upstairs, then we’re going to talk.”
I gulped. Talk. Out of the whole dictionary, that was the word I hated the most.