Page 6 of Her Protector Daddies

“No,” I spat hoarsely.

The blond man reappeared from the back room and shrugged. “He’s not here.”

My heart dropped like a rock. I’d told them no one was here in the hope that my dad would be able to fight back if they didn’t expect him here, but with that silence came a sickening realization.

My father left me.

A fist suddenly crashed into the side of my face, sending me crashing to the floor with a grasp. Hot pain exploded across my jaw, and as the crack of splintered wood reached my ears, a heavy boot landed on my chest and stayed there.

I couldn’t breathe. Dazed, I was trapped staring up at my dark-haired attacker as he leaned all his weight onto his boot and tapped the gun against my temple.’

“Well, well,” he sneered. “You’re about to get real chatty if you want to keep that pretty face in one piece.”

3

TYLER

“7-Adam-13, we’ve got a 459 at 456 South Harvard Boulevard. Suspect is male, white with dark hair.”

“7-Adam-13, show responding.” My partner, Officer Trask, sat the radio back against the dashboard and quickly typed the address into the computer as I altered our patrol and took the next left, setting us on course for the call.

A beat of silence followed. Silence I would have gladly embraced all the way to the call.

“So.” Trask drummed his right hand on the car door handle and blew air through his teeth. “You gonna tell me what you’re really doing here?”

Eyes on the road, I scoffed slightly under my breath. “What?”

“What you’re really doing here.” Trask rolled his head to stare at me.

“Shit, because hearing it twice suddenly makes me understand you more,” I muttered.

“C’mon, it must have been something really fucking juicy. We’ve been riding together for over a month now and you haven’t said a word.” Trask wiggled slightly in his seat and drove his elbow against my arm as if we were two buddies catching up over a cold beer

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied easily, leaning away from him. “But if you have concerns with being assigned to me, I’m sure you can put in a request with the Desk Sergeant. No promises that he’ll listen to you though.”

“No, that’s not it at all.” Trask’s fingers continued to drum on the car door, alternating between fast and slow thumps.

He was clearly desperate for a cigarette but when we’d been paired up together, I’d laid down the ground rules for the car really fast. No smoking in my squad car, and that wasn’t up for discussion.

“You got demoted, didn’t you?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” I sent him a sidelong glance, and his watery-green eyes were fixed on me.

“Which one will get me an answer?”

“Why do you think I’ve been demoted?” I almost didn’t want to ask. The can of worms that seemed to exist inside Officer Trask’s mind was one I tried my best to avoid. But he clearly wasn’t letting go of this bone any time soon.

“Easy. You were Detective Lamb. You had one hell of a stellar reputation. They used to say your record was so clean that you didn’t even need to polish your badge. All your fucking good deeds did it for you. All the good you did and bad scumbags you put away? There’s no way you willingly gave that up to come back to the bottom of the barrel.”

I scoffed lightly, eyeing the computer to check our ETA on route. “You say clean like it’s a bad thing.”

“Well,” Trask chuckled. “Ain’t no one can say they do this job and keep 100 percent clean. Some just don’t get caught.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, it is. Not me though!” He held both hands up as if his innocence was stamped on his palms. “Plus, no Detective worth their salt would come back to patrol unless they’ve done something that got them into a lot of trouble,” Trask continued on. “So people are curious.”

“People?”

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