His voice is so firm and solid, I feel like I could ride in it. “This is a pain you’ll only feel once.”
“Then I’m glad that I’ll feel it with you, Daddy. Are you going to make me yours now?”
Chapter 8 Logan
Outside, a stair creaks. Holding down the anger and rage at being interrupted at such a huge moment, the very instant I was about to make this beautiful girl into my own princess, on the way to becoming my queen, I have to make her safe. I must protect her at all costs.
She sees the change in my expression. Instinctively, she reads me so perfectly. I put my finger to my lips. Signaling for her to follow, moving as quietly as I can, I pull her with me, leading her quickly along the wall to the side of the doors.
We both stay flat against the wall. People are outside. A group. They must have followed our footprints in the dirt. All at once, four guys shoulder the door and bust in. They all trample onto the flattened door. Schoolboy error.
I heave the near side of the door up. The two men closest topple into their two pals. I strain to shove the door up and over. Now four men are under it. Many arms and legs stick out. Two hands are gripping pistols. I show Greta my hand to tell her to stay where she is.
I jump onto the door. I lean down and hammer the backs and the knuckles of the gun hands with the grip of my pistol, as they out from under the wood. The guns come free. Taking one for myself, I scoot the other across the floor to the far side of the room. I roll off the door, fast.
As the two men on top come up, I’ve got a gun barrel on each of them. They back off. Fast. I fire one shot each at their feet. Quickly aim back at their foreheads. They run down the stairs. Fast.
“Stay down!” I command the other two men. I move near enough to hold a gun at each of their heads. “Guns, knives. All of it. Out and on the ground. Push it all to the farthest you can reach.”
The little guy, the evil-eyed little fucker is the one I’m watching. The other one will give up and run. Like his buddies did. These kids are thrill-seekers. Baby hoods. They want excitement and money. Probably some pussy. They don’t have a death-wish.
I keep the small one on the ground and let his buddy scramble up. He turns and runs for his life. I slide a bullet past his hairdo to encourage him along.
Holding both barrels on the little guy, I let him up. Slow. With one barrel pointed in each eye, I tell him, “This is our second meeting.” I talk slow. Ice cold. “If there’s a third, you won’t survive it.” He’s holding himself so as not to show panic. I know he’s scared enough to shit.
I know because when he turns to run, he goes out on the landing and stumbles straight through the weakened balcony rail. Must have dropped thirty feet.
Greta goes pale. I pull her shivering body close against my hard chest. Give her warmth. Strength.
“Shame to see a life wasted,” I tell her, “But I don’t think he’s a great loss.”
Russ’ voice crackles into my earbud again. “Logan?”
“Yeah.” I have to fight to keep my voice level. “Sorry Russ.”
“You’d better come in.”
“I will.”
“Now, Logan. Mikey wants words. He’s not happy.”
“Mikey? Mikey from the corps, that crook? What the fuck does he have to do with anything?”
“You didn’t know? He runs this team.” I’m feeling like my head’s gone into a tailspin. “He asked for you by name for this gig.” Something even worse, though, is the way the blood has drained from Greta’s face leaving her pale and drawn.
I pull her to me as I tell Russ, “Okay, Russ. I’m on my way.”
He’s telling me, “Don’t delay,” as I cut the connection.
The sight of her in distress is more than I can take. “What is is, sweetheart?”
“Did… did you say ‘Mikey’? Are you talking about Mikey Cippiollino?”
I nod.
“Mikey is the man who I came to see.”
I didn’t like to think of her having anything at all to do with that crook.
“Why did you go to see Mikey, sweetheart?”
She pulls away. Shrinks back against the wall and turns her head down. Hides her face. I put my arm around her but she tries to shrug away.
I take a hold of her shoulder so she’s wrapped in a firm embrace. Cradled. I touch her jaw. Lift her chin. “You’re safe. You’re with me. Nothing is going to hurt you.” She looks so miserable it made me boil inside I want to find whoever hurt her like this. Run them down and beat them to putty.
A single tear bursts out of the corner of her eye. Rolls in a squiggling track down her cheek. She blinks. I know that is her trying to stop more tears from falling. She doesn’t want to appear weak. I love and respect her for it.
Knotting her hands together and looking down, she says, “My father owes money to Mikey.”
I nod. I want to let her talk. Once you start, it’s easier to keep going if nobody fills in the gaps.
“It’s a lot of money. Well, it’s a lot of money to him. And it’s a whole lot of money to me. I doubt I’ll make that much in my whole life.”
I nod again.
“I planned to see Mikey,” her bottom lip trembled. She looks up, her face is desolate. “Logan, I can’t tell you.”
I don’t say anything. Just look steadily into her eyes and hold her firm. Keep her tight against me.
“Logan, I was going to ask him…”
“No,” I cut her off and kiss the top of her head. “It’s okay. I understand.”
I tell her, “You’re very brave. You’re fantastically strong, and your father is
