Page 5 of Her Protector Daddies

“No,” my Dad said flatly. “No. This is mine now. Don’t you see, we can have everything now? Me and you. We can live like Kings. We just have to… we can’t stay here, so we’ll leave and go somewhere else. No one will find us. This much cash can make us disappear!”

A tired, quiet part of me was tempted. I couldn’t help it. I was only twenty-three and yet I felt like I’d lived more than one life just trying to keep myself and my father afloat. Six years of trying to keep him alive, hold down a job, and keep a roof over both our heads had surely shaved years off my life.

I was tired, and for a dreamy moment, that money was the easy solution. Take it and disappear into new life, reinvent myself as someone with worth, and seek a brighter future beyond stocking shelves and scrubbing toilets for spare change.

I hurriedly wiped away a few stray tears that escaped my eyes and forced a slow breath to try and calm myself.

“And how long until this new version of himself sticks a needle in his arm?” I asked brokenly. “How long until your reinvention becomes just another tinfoil distraction.”

“I’ll get clean,” my dad scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“If I had a dollar for how often I’ve heard that, this money really would be ours.” I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers to the bridge of my nose as my restrained tears slowly developed into an ache in my skull. Deep down, I knew I had to report this. If I didn’t and the cops found it? I’d be carted off alongside my father.

“Selena, why don’t you trust me?”

Opening my eyes, I locked eyes with my father, and my heart shattered. There wasn’t a single hint of understanding in his bloodshot eyes, no fatherly warmth or acceptance of his actions. There was just disbelief.

As if I was the bad guy.

“Dad,” I said softly. “This is too far. You have to hand yourself in, or take it back or something but we can’t keep it!”

“The fuck we can’t,” he scoffed, shuffling from foot to foot. “This is mine, fair and square. It’s important, and the guy? He won’t even want it back because?—.”

“No! No more excuses, no more stories because I don’t care. The more you tell me, the more I’ll end up in jail right alongside you so this, this has to go?—.”

A sudden sharp knocking rang through the apartment and we both froze. A beat of silence followed, then the knocking repeated much more insistently than before and we both launched into action.

“Is it the cops?” my dad hissed and he threw himself toward the table.

“I don’t know, but— I mean, maybe? They questioned me a few hours ago,” I whispered and desperately wished I’d opened a curtain when I arrived.

“Get rid of them!” My father grabbed my arm and shoved me toward the door, more concerned with gathering up the stray money than anything else. I wanted to curse him out and tell him to take responsibility but I didn’t. Instead, I smoothed down my plait, tucked some hair behind my ears, and approached the door with my politest smile.

I reached for the handle and opened the door only when I heard the bedroom door close.

I’d barely opened it an inch before a force hit the door and sent me crashing backward against the coat rack with a cry of fright. As I struggled to steady myself, a thick, meaty hand wrapped around my throat and jerked me up so sharply that my head snapped back against the plaster. Pain exploded through the back of my skull.

“What the fuck?” I gasped, choking as the hand around my throat closed tightly.

“Where the fuck is he?!” the stranger barked and a pair of dark eyes bore down on me. He was taller than me, with jet-black hair slicked back from his forehead and a snake tattoo winding down the forearm of the arm he pinned me with. Behind him, a man of similar build with blond hair shoved further into the apartment.

“Marcus!” the second man yelled and he disappeared from sight.

“Where is he?” the first stranger yelled in my face again. I clutched at his thick wrist with all my strength, fighting for air as my heart pounded so violently I was sure it was about to burst out of my chest. When his hand finally relaxed enough for me to breathe, I gasped in the air and coughed roughly.

“I don’t— I don’t know,” I gasped. “There’s no one else here!”

Despite everything, protecting my father came first like a gut instinct.

“Liar.” He leaned close, so close that the stale smoke from his breath invaded my lungs and I coughed violently again. Just as I angled my body, lining up a kick to the stomach so I could make a run for the open door, the chilling press of a gun barrel thrust against my side.

I froze up, my eyes wide and my heart skipped a beat.

“Please,” I whimpered, “it’s just me. There’s no one here.”

The stranger hauled me away from the wall and kicked the door closed behind us. He threw me forward and I clattered into one of the wooden chairs by the now-empty table. Not even a dollar had been left behind. As I straightened myself, my mind racing with how the hell I was going to survive this, the dark-haired stranger leaned close and pressed the tip of his gun against my jaw.

“Are you his girl?” he asked. My stomach rolled.

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