Page 1 of Daddy's Little Sunshine

CHAPTER 1

Donovan

“Ninety degrees? It’s fucking December!”

Donovan Carter glared at the display on his phone. He jabbed a finger at the screen to refresh the app, but the same ridiculous number stared back at him.

“Has to be a glitch. I’m going to walk outside and find a foot of snow on the ground.” He stalked to one of the grimy little windows in his apartment and looked outside. No snow. Bright, sunny skies.

“It still can’t be right.” Grumbling under his breath the entire way, he pulled on a plain white T-shirt and grabbed a hoodie he’d tossed on the couch before he walked out the door.

“Donny! I hope you’re not going out in that!”

Donovan rapped his forehead against the door twice before turning to face Ms. Edith, his nosy, elderly neighbor from across the hall. “News says it’s going to be warm today.” He raised his voice above what would normally be considered polite, as he wasn’t in the mood to repeat himself a dozen times today.

His tiny, white-haired neighbor snorted and shook her head. “News doesn’t know a goddamn thing. Those weather men get itwrong more than they get it right. Don’t come crying to me for some soup when you catch your death, boy.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. Edith.” It wasn’t worth pointing out he’d never come to her, or anyone for that matter, for soup before. Thanks in part to the fact that he’d never been sick a day in his life. But that was a different conversation, and one he didn’t plan on having with anyone if he could help it. Especially not nosy Ms. Edith.

Donovan jogged down the five flights of stairs and shoved his sunglasses over his eyes before he stepped outside. Into the bright sunshine. And warm, summer air.

What the fuck was going on? Had he gotten drunk and moved to Australia without realizing it? It seemed unlikely unless Australia had a city that looked exactly like Baltimore, and he’d somehow kidnapped Ms. Edith and brought her with him.

As ridiculous as it sounded, no other explanation seemed forthcoming. Shaking his head again, he took off down the sidewalk. He was only a block from his apartment when a high, terrified-sounding screech ripped through the air. The next cry of distress was nearly lost under a sudden rumble of thunder. Confused, he glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky, and yanked the hood of his sweatshirt over his head moments before the skies opened. “What the actual fuck is happening?”

“HELP!”

It wasn’t his business, he told himself. Probably some tourist too stupid to hold on to her purse, now screaming bloody murder because an enterprising pickpocket had relieved her of it. Donovan hunched his shoulders against the freezing cold wind whipping at him.

When he turned the corner, the scene that greeted him made his blood turn colder than the winter rain.

Down a dark, nearly-hidden alley, a huge man held a struggling woman in his arms. The woman lifted her head, relief and desperation stamped all over her pretty face when she spotted him.

“Help me! Please!”

Fucking hell.

All he wanted to do was get to work and somehow make it through another day. But he couldn’t leave her there. With a resigned groan, Donovan rushed toward the pair. Before he could reach them, he was knocked sideways by a freight train.

At least, it felt like a goddamned train. Twisting in midair, he came face to face with the ugliest asshole he’d ever seen. It wasn’t even a face a mother could love.

They collided with the street and Donovan heard a loud crack accompanied by a shooting pain in his shoulder. The pair rolled across the pavement, and he found himself pinned under Mr. Freight Train Ugly Mug.

Ugly Mug lifted a fist in the air. Donovan waited until the last second and jerked his face out of the way so Ugly Mug’s fist met the pavement with a satisfying crunch.

While Ugly Mug was distracted by his shattered knuckles, Donovan reared up and slammed his forehead into the man’s unsightly face. His vision wavered for a moment but luckily for him, so did Ugly Mug. He shoved the attacker off of him and rolled away. The woman was still struggling with her captor, who was trying to force her into the back of an unmarked white van.

Donovan leapt to his feet and charged. The girl’s captor was, possibly, even uglier than Ugly Mug. The man shifted his hold on the woman and reached behind him. The tail lights of the van glinted off the dark metal of the weapon he pulled free.

A gun. The son of a bitch had a gun. Oh, well. It wasn’t like Donovan hadn’t been shot before. Uglier Mug jerked the weaponup and pointed it straight at Donovan’s chest. Donovan braced for the impact of the bullet but didn’t slow down.

Before the asshole could pull the trigger, a deafening roar split the sky and Donovan watched as Uglier Mug seemed to light up from the inside out. He skidded to a stop a few feet away from Uglier Mug and the woman. The static from the bolt of lightning made Donovan's hair stand on end.

It was like watching a movie in slow motion. What seemed like several long minutes really only lasted a couple of seconds before Uglier Mug dropped to the ground, his skin blackened and smoke rising from the charred remains.

“Holy shit!”

Donovan’s attention snapped back to the woman, who scrambled backward from the body like a startled crab. She was, as far as Donovan could tell, completely unscathed. But before he could marvel over that little miracle, he was again hit from behind by the freight train.

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