Page 69 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

“I know. That’s not what I meant. You told me you always pictured yourself ending up with a woman. I feel like I’m taking that away from you. What happens if you wake up one day andrealize you picked wrong. Fiona can give your children, Abi. I can’t do that. We’re never going to be able to look at a kid and know he’s half of you and half of me. I’m the wrong choice. How do you not see that?”

“I am not picking a side,” he says, his voice serious. “I am picking a person.” His lips graze mine, and I open my mouth in invitation, but he ghosts past it, bringing his mouth to my ear. “I pick you, Tatum. I am picking the man I love. If we have children one day, that is fine. If we do not, that is fine as well. Whether they share our DNA, I do not care. The only thing I care about is getting to spend the rest of my life with you. I pick you, Tatum.”

There are so many things I want to say to him, but nothing comes. So, when I can’t find my voice, I find him, clinging desperately to the man I’ve chosen. “I pick you, too.”

I hear a groan, but it doesn’t sound like it came from Abi. I want to pull away to see if we’ve got a Peeping Tom on our hands—probably the kinky bastard of a pastor—but I can’t bring myself to break the embrace.

When he stands, he brings me along for the journey. Once he’s up, he pats my ass the way he always does when he wants me to let go. Reluctantly, I unhook my legs from around his waist, letting my feet dangle down, ready to be on solid ground again. That doesn’t happen.

The next thing I know, I’m airborne. Apparently, Abi has taken it upon himself to treat me like an overgrown toddler. He throws me into the air, making me shriek. I brace myself for the fall, but I’m a fool to doubt him. He’d never hurt me. He catches me with his big rough hands, holding me in front of him like one might hold a puppy while musing about its cuteness. Before I can ask what the hell he’s doing, his arms rise, and I’m flying in the air again.

“Abi, what the fuck? Stop it!”

“Mine!” he says, smiling wider than I’ve ever seen him smile before. Again, he tosses me into the air like a toddler,only to catch me seconds later. “Always mine, Tatum? Forever?”

Each time he catches me, his fingertips tickle my sides. I know we would probably look ridiculous to anyone else, right now, but I don’t particularly give a damn. Because this is us. Me and Abi. It’s our moment, and we don’t have to justify our immature behavior to anyone.

“Yours,” I cry, giggling as he tickles my sides again. “You know I am. Stop that!” I try to slap his hand away, but the Russian motherfucker just throws me in the air again. There’s a loud popping sound behind us, then a groan that sounds like it’s coming from somewhere nearby. When I fall this time, Abi doesn’t catch me. I just fall to the floor in a heap. Narrowing my eyes and ready to lay into his ass for letting me fall, I look up, but he isn’t there.

Then I hear it. A grunt. A gasp. Whimpers.

It takes me a moment to realize where the sound is coming from, and when I do, my heart stalls in my chest. Lying at my side, Abi is on his back, staring up at the church’s rafters. His mouth is hanging open like he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Abi?” His eyes are fixed ahead of him, but it’s like he’s not really looking at anything. It takes me a moment to realize his shirt is stained red, and the stain keeps spreading. I don’t understand what I’m looking at. He was just standing in front of me, throwing me up and down in the air like a kid. Now, he’s crumpled on the floor, barely breathing.

Something snaps in him, because his body jolts, and his eyes search frantically for mine. “Little one?”

His teeth are red. Why are his teeth red?

“Daddy?” I whisper, touching the side of his face. “What’s wrong?” There are footsteps behind me, but I pay them no mind. Not when Abi won’t even speak to me. “Abi, I’m right here. Talk to me.”

“Tatum,” he groans, shifting onto his elbows only to fall backto the floor, wincing with pain. “Go.” I blink at him. Is he talking to me? Why would I leave? I’m right where I belong. At his side. Keeping him safe. I start to shake my head, but he moans the word again. “Go, little one. Run.”

“Probably not the best idea,” someone says behind me. It’s a familiar voice, but I don’t care enough to turn around and find out who it belongs to.

“Can you sit up?” I ask Abi. I reach for the tail of his shirt, wanting to lift it up so I can see what’s going on. Abi’s hand stops me, grabbing my wrist and refusing to budge.

“Do not panic,” he says cautiously. “But I believe I’ve been shot.”

His eyes close, and I’m left here on my own.

Abi

The little one looks frightened, and it’s a sight I can’t stand to see. I’m supposed to protect him. To care for him. Keep him safe. How can I protect Tatum when I can’t even sit upright?

This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot, but it’s the first time I have something real to lose. Before—when it was simply Brody, Fiona, and myself—I put my life on the line regularly, knowing the potential price I might pay. It’s only now I realize it’s a cost I’m no longer willing to pay. Thirty seconds ago, Tatum was mine and I was his. Now, all I feel is my body going colder.

When I saw the man enter the chapel from the foyer, I knew something was amiss. I hadn’t seen his face at first, I just watched him pull a gun from his pocket and fire a round into my stomach. I blacked out, and for a moment, I saw Tatum’s goddess. She didn’t look much like a goddess at all, however. She looked like my little one. I prayed to her, I think. I cannot remember the words, but I know their intent. To get me back tohim. To protect him the way I always do. Then, my eyes shot open, and I sat up, groaning as pain spread through my stomach.

The taste of blood is strong in my mouth, and I know I must look frightful to Tatum, but his fear is not something I can focus on. Not with the man still heading toward us. The closer he gets, the clearer his face becomes, and my heart pumps faster when the man’s identity finally registers.

Benito.

He’s got a rabid look about him, and his hand shakes around the gun’s grip. It would only take the twitch of a finger, and Tatum or I would be snuffed out of this life and launched into the next. Perhaps, he’ll meet me there. Or maybe I can wait for him. I think I’d rather enjoy welcoming him home. Of course, that would mean leaving him. How could I ever leave him alone in this world? I’ve sworn to protect him above all else. He is my love. My life. My little one. So, I fight. I kick and I claw until I’ve managed to pull myself into a sitting position, shuffling forward on my hands until I’m between Tatum and Benito.

“You took everything,” Benito says, getting Tatum’s attention. He’s been so focused on me, Tatum hasn’t even seen him approach. He jerks his head up until he sees Benito, and his mouth falls open.

Benito is not an unattractive man. I’ll give him that. He looks a bit like Brody, actually. Maybe not as muscular, but the overall aesthetic is the same. Big brown eyes. Short dark hair. A peppering of freckles across his nose.

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