Page 52 of Boss Daddy

Her head rests briefly against my chest before she steps back, running a hand through her hair. “I know. It’s just... I’d bet anything that Misha did this to get back at me. And I hate that Tiffany had to be the one to pay for it.” Her eyes flash with anger.

“Wait,” I say. “Why would Misha go after Tiffany?”

“She works at one of Misha’s other bars,” she explains. “He must’ve beat her there, then dumped her outside your club to send a message. He wants me to know that even if I hide out with you he can still get to me.”

The thought makes my blood boil. “The cops need to know about this.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “The hospital will more than likely contact them. But Tiffany’s in no position to talk, and even if she could, she wouldn’t.”

“Why not?” I’m not sure why I’m asking that question since I already know the answer. I know how men like Misha work.The look on Erin’s face confirms I should know better.

“Because Misha has half the police force in his pocket. Reporting this will be a waste of time, and it might even make things worse.”

I nod, clenching my jaw. She’s right, and it pisses me off more than I want to admit. Misha’s reach is long, and it’s not the first time I’ve seen someone too scared to stand up to him.

Knowing that, there’s nothing to do but wait. Erin spends the time going through her contacts and reviewing her messages with Tiffany, trying to find a way to get ahold of her parents. After some doing, she manages to place the call.

An hour passes before a doctor approaches us, clipboard in hand. “We’re admitting her,” she says, glancing between us. “One of her lungs is punctured, and she has a mild concussion, not to mention countless bruises. She’ll need to stay for a couple of days.”

Erin’s expression hardens. “What room? I want to see her.”

The nurse hesitates. “Are you family?”

“I’m a friend,” Erin says quickly.

“And he is?” the doctor asks, nodding toward me.

“Her boss,” I reply, gesturing toward Erin. “We found Tiffany.”

The doctor nods. “Contacting her family is our top priority at the moment.”

“I called her parents,” Erin says. “They should be on their way.”

“Good. The staff will update them when they arrive.” She leaves without giving us anything more.

Erin exhales slowly, her hands tightening into fists at her sides.

“You did what you could,” I tell her. “Tiffany’s alive because of you.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not enough. I should’ve been there for her, should’ve checked in. I knew Misha was after me.”

“You’re not responsible for the actions of evil men, Erin. There’s no way you could have prevented it.”

She looks at me with glistening eyes, a tear trickling down her cheek that I quickly wipe away. But more tears come. I pull her close, letting her cry quietly against my chest.Erin leans againstme, her body tense, her head resting lightly on my shoulder.

“She’ll be okay,” I assure her. “This is a good hospital. They’ll take good care of her.”

She nods, but I can feel the stress radiating from her, guilt and anger pressing down like a stone.It’s almost four in the morning, and she’s been running on fumes for hours. She’ll need rest. I’ll stay close, just to make sure she gets it. I’ve already decided she’s taking the night off whether she likes it or not.

The sound of hurried footsteps coming down the hallway grabs my attention. A woman bursts into the waiting area, her face tight with panic, her features strikingly similar to Tiffany’s. She crashes into the space like a storm, her voice rising in panicked bursts before anyone can stop her.

“What happened? Where’s Tiffany? Is she okay? Who did this? Where is my daughter?” Her words are directed at no one in particular, her eyes flicking from one nurse to another.

The nearest nurse barely has time to open her mouth before the woman turns her attention to Erin, her wild gaze pinning her down. “Do you know? Were you with her? Who hurt her?”

“Ma’am,” I say, stepping in. “Take a breath. I know you’re worried, and I promise we’ll answer your questions, but you need to calm down first.”

My words stop her cold. I’ve dealt with enough crises to know that sometimes, a stern tone is best.

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