Page 62 of Naughty Santa Daddy

“Ma’am. I need you to tell me what happened.” The fat fuck grabs her shoulder to pull her out of her trance, only sending her into instant fight mode instead. She’s yanking her shoulder out of his grip and screaming before the poor idiot has a chance to realize what he’s done.

I try to ignore the ping in my chest as I watch her trauma response unfold. Hadley has seen some shit in her life. I know this. I don’t even think she’s remembering half of it… but that doesn’t mean she can’t be triggered into allowing those memories to resurface.

“Fuck.” The urge for me to walk over there and handle everything with just the mere presence of showing up is tugging at me. But… I don’t care about this girl. I don’t care what happens to her once I’ve gotten what I need from her, and I sure don’t need to tie myself to her in public with absolute fuckin’ chaos going on.

I watch the video feed intently as a female deputy approaches Hadley. “Can you tell us what happened?” Her tactic to getHadley to talk is a little softer, encouraging her to share her story as another female wraps a blanket around Hadley’s shoulders.

“He came around the counter with a knife and I shot him. I was scared.” Hadley can barely be understood through her sobs, making her story one hundred percent believable.

“Good girl.” She said exactly what I told her to say.

“Why don’t you come over here and we’ll get the report written up. Then we can let you get out of here.” They guide her to the back of an ambulance and hand her a clipboard. I can’t hear anything, but I can imagine it all as it plays out. The medics begin to look her over while she stares at her clipboard, no doubt deciding if she’s going to lie on paper.

I answer my phone when it rings without taking my eyes off Hadley. “Costa.”

“Mission accomplished,” Emilio says, only two words before he hangs up. He’s pissed at me for pushing him to get the job done without fucking bothering me, but that didn’t keep him from taking care of business and handling a crisis on his own. He knows the way we work better than anyone, and with this shit going on, I needed him to get our guys back without pulling my attention away from this.

It's almost an hour later when one of the deputies begins to walk Hadley to her car. Her slow steps and the way she’s carrying herself tell me she doesn’t want to get into her car. She actually does get in, and as I watch her still idling her car after about five minutes, I decide to take this opportunity to get a little closer to my prey.

She’s looking down at her hands when I park beside her, so I roll my window down, waiting until she glances in my direction. She must recognize my SUV because she immediately opens her car door to talk to me. “Get in… I’ll take you home.” I nod to my passenger seat and then watch her ass as she leans into her car to turn it off.

She doesn’t say a word until I pull out of the diner parking lot. “I know he was going to attack me. That look…” she stalls mid-sentence, and I can imagine her mind drifting back to what happened.

“He was here to take you, Hadley.” She whips her head to look at me, with fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

“What?” Her voice is shaky, and if it wasn’t entirely silent, I wouldn’t have heard her ask.

“He was sent to kidnap you.” I don’t say the part where he was to deliver her to the most notoriously ruthless and vile humans to ever walk this Earth. That she could easily be one of the most valuable marks in the crime world if the buzz got out about who she is.

“Take me?” Her eyes swell with tears as she stares at me for clarification. “How do you know this?” She quickly looks down at her hands, her mind obviously going in every direction while she tries to make sense of what’s going on. She’s most likely regretting the fact that she got in a vehicle with me…as she fucking should be.

“It’s my job to know.”

I turn right, taking us toward one of my houses instead of driving straight in the direction of her house. “Where are you taking me?”

“You can stay at my place tonight. You’ll be able to rest knowing you’re safe.” She nods and watches out the windshield, not making another sound until we pull into my garage. She walks slowly toward the door while looking around at the cars surrounding us. It’s when her eyes lock on my Bugatti that I give her my full attention.

“Holy crap, it’s beautiful.” She holds her hand just inches away as she fully circles the car, never touching the paint. It’s the tease of her touch that sends chills up my neck and the rush ofhardness over my dick. I don’t even try to block my imagination from going wild about the idea of fucking her in that car.

I stand beside her and can’t believe I feel proud of her amazement. It’s not as if she truly knows the rarities in her presence. The Bugatti is just a fucking sharp car that draws the attention of everyone around it. It’s one of many that I own and not even my favorite in the collection.

My favorites are housed below my mansion. I haven’t had the time to drive many of them lately. Business has kept me from having as much playtime as I would like. I refuse to boast and brag about what I own, so I walk through the doors, leaving her to drool for as long as she wants while I reel my shit in.

“You did not bring her here to fuck,” I mumble under my breath as I pull some blankets out of the hall closet.

“Are you talking to me?” She comes up behind me and surprises the shit out of me. I feign ignorance and walk past her with my bedding for the couch. I’m kicking myself for taking the extra rooms in this house for selfish reasons. It’s pretty pathetic for a five-bedroom house to only have one bed to sleep in, but I felt like having an office, gym, and two fuck rooms was more important since that’s what this place is for. I’ve never had my son here, and I’ve never taken a girl to the mansion. I don’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

“You can shower in here. You’ll have to pick something out of my closet, but it should work for the night.” I hold my hand out to show her the correct door to enter my bedroom. She doesn’t walk through the door, and I start to wonder if she’s misreading my intentions.

“What are you not telling me?” I was hoping she’d hold the questions off until another day, but I understand tonight was a lot for her.

“What do you mean?”

“You know about the guy I killed tonight. Why do you know him? Why were you there so quickly to swoop in and make sure I could get away with what I had done? Why are you lingering around a murder scene until I get released?” She holds out her fingers, counting the questions as she asks them. “Why did you bring me to your house instead of my own? Why are you pretending to take care of me while at the same time talking to yourself about not fucking me?”

I close the distance between us, my hand going around her neck until she’s backed against the wall. Tightening my grip, I stare into her eyes, contemplating what I’m going to do next. What explanation am I going to give her for any of the questions she has asked?

“You ask too many fucking questions,” I grumble, my mouth just inches from hers.

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