Page 25 of Daddy P.I. 3.0

Sometimes when I journal, I just sit down and the words flow out like water from the tap. Other days, not so much. I remember readingTarzanin high school. When Tarzan’s teaching himself to read—as unlikely as that actually is—he thinks the words are bugs on the page. That’s how I feel about words today: they’re bugs on the page, scrambling around with all their little legs going every which-way and not making any sense at all.

I tap my pen against the smooth paper and write a hasty line.

The more I love my daddy, the more I can love him.

Ugh, wriggling bugs. That doesn’t make sense and it’s not what I’m trying to say.

I scratch through the line. I don’t erase it or scratch it out so thoroughly Logan can’t read it, because Daddy likes to see the evolution of my thoughts. But it’s not right. Rubbing the sore spots in my side where the diaper pin punctures are healing and shifting on the very sore spots I’m sitting on, I try again.

The more I love my daddy, the more capacity I have for love.

That’s closer but it’s not about capacity. My chest is already much too small to contain all my adoration.

It’s about depth.

The more I love my daddy, the deeper my love gets.

That’s right. It’s not my most elegant turn of phrase but maybe that’s good. My feelings transcend words. Their expression should be raw.

I put my pen aside and pull out my sticker box. I go through my collection one by one, trying several combinations on the page before settling on a combination of hearts, a skull with a rose, a black cat, and the Batman logo.

Daddy likes puzzling out what the stickers in my journal mean. He usually figures them out. When he doesn’t, I don’t enlighten him. Daddy likes little mysteries.

I wiggle in my chair. My butt’s so-so-so sore. Belphegor is an evil, evil, evil paddle that must be destroyed. Sable, who is lying on the table, trying to worm his way onto the journal so I pay attention to him instead of writing in it, looks up at me and purrs.

I put my face down to his and kiss between his ears. “You’re awesome, boy but Daddy’s a little bit awesomer. Not much. You’re the most awesome kitty in the world. But Daddy’s Daddy. He’s hard to top.”

“That’s good to hear, baby doll,” Daddy says, strolling into the kitchen through the open door to his office. Master Mac’s a step behind him, looking extremely bleary after a scene last night that went late. He mumbles something about dinner I pretend not to hear before he stumbles upstairs.

If I’m speedy, I might have dinner prepared before he wakes up. Mwahaha.

Daddy makes tea and brings two cups over to where I’m sitting. He puts both cups down in front of him as he sits at the breakfast table across from me. He blows into one cup several times before testing it with his pinkie and passing it to me.

“Ta, Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It looks like Mac and I are going to have to stake-out Sacrum to see if we can catch this thief.”

“Really? What about all the cameras you installed?”

He seemed so sure the cameras would work. I know he even gave the club extra cameras on his own dime, because he asked me what I thought before he did it and I encouraged him if it would give everyone at Sacrum peace of mind.

“One caught an image of someone in a black hoodie. All the rest were disabled with electrician’s tape. Out of my own damn bag. Joker’s B didn’t do any damage to them, just stood under each one and put a piece of tape over the lens, without getting caught in any of the overlapping fields of view. I swear, baby doll, it’s like she watched me install them. She knew exactly where each camera was.”

“Could she have watched you install them?”

“I have no idea how. I was alone in the hallways most of the time.”

“Spooky, Daddy.”

He nods but the frowny doesn’t leave his face.

“I know you and Bren think Joker’s B is harmless but I’m not comfortable with you coming on the stakeout, baby. This isn’t a sexist thing, even though I know you and Brenna think I’m a caveman. I just can’t take any risks with your safety. Can you understand that, sweetheart?”

I bite back my smile. Bren and I discussed our respective Dom’s caveman tendencies a great deal after a business rival and two of his Neo-Nazi friends attacked her before Halloween.Brenna’s a kickboxer and they got the surprise of their lives when she turned the tables on them. That wasn’t enough for our Doms. Daddy and Mac and some of Mac’s biker friends tracked down the bad guys and made sure they would never bother Brenna again. Daddy won’t tell me what happened but Bren found out that bones were broken.Morebones were broken.

I slip out of my chair, kneel next to Daddy’s, and put my arms around his waist. “I know you’ll keep me safe. I’ll be sad that you’re away overnight but I’ll be fine. Brenna’s here. And I could have a Littles’ Army sleepover.”

Daddy groans. “We need to talk about this Littles’ Army thing, Emmy. I don’t approve of militarizing your playgroup.”

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