Page 19 of Gangster Daddy's Girl

“Why are you doing this? Is it because Tyson roughed you up that night?”

He finally turns to me. “You can either shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”

I glare at him. “I know you can’t hurt me. If you hurt me and Tyson sees it, he’s going to tear you both apart with his bare hands.”

Throwing his controller down, Dawson shoots to his feet and cocks his hand back like he’s going to smack me. His face is red, and he’s huffing, but he doesn’t deliver the blow, and I see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” I say.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’m going to gag you.”

He sits back down, picks his controller up again, and starts playing a first-person shooter war game. I watch him for a little while. All the while, my mind is spinning, trying to figure out how I’m going to get through to him and get out of this. If Tyson shows up to that meeting, they’re going to kill him. The mere thought of it sends a sharp lance of pain straight through my heart. I need to warn him.

“I need to use the restroom,” I say.

“Shut up.”

“Please,” I respond. “I don’t want to pee my pants.”

“Not my problem.”

“Dawson, please. Be a human being, and just let me use the restroom. You can stand right outside the door.”

He frowns, doing his best to ignore me. Dawson plays tough, but I can tell that he’s not. He’s not as hard as Rico. I’ve got a feeling he’s only in this life because he followed Rico into it. It’s not hard to see the hero worship on his face when he looks at him. It’s kind of sad.

“Please, Dawson,” I plead, my voice soft. “Just let me use the restroom.”

He sighs heavily, then pauses his game and turns to me. “No funny shit, all right?”

“No funny shit. I promise.”

He sets the controller down, stands up, and walks over to me. Dawson pulls a pair of snips from his back pocket and looks down at me for a minute, his eyes filled with uncertainty. I do my best to look innocent and harmless.

“I’m going to be right outside that door,” he says.

“That’s fine.”

He nods and bends down, snipping the plastic cuffs. The moment the cuffs slip off my wrists and fall to the floor, I throw the hardest punch I can, connecting squarely with his balls. He lets out a grunt of pain, his breath bursting from his mouth with a loud “oomph.” Dawson doubles over, his hands on his groin. Jumping to my feet, I bolt for the door. He grabs at my ankle, so I spin around and kick him in the face, sending him topping over backward.

“Bitch,” he croaks. “Fucking bitch.”

I sprint across the room, my hands trembling so hard, I fumble with the locks. Behind me, I hear Dawson getting to his feet, and I let out a sharp squeak. He’s shambling slowly toward me, one hand on his injured balls, the other reaching toward me. My heart is pounding in my ears, and my face is so hot it feels like it’s on fire as I keep fumbling with the locks.

“Come on, come on,” I cry.

I finally manage to unlock the door and throw it open. When I do, my eyes widen, and my heart sinks into my belly.

“What the fuck?” Rico growls.

Before I can utter a reply, Rico grabs me by the hair and yanks my head up roughly, forcing me to look him in the eye.

“Nice try, bitch,” he growls.

15

TYSON

Icheck my watch and see it’s five to midnight—the appointed meeting time. I’m sitting behind the wheel of my Escalade in the empty parking lot of a long-deserted strip mall. The buildings around me are dilapidated and look like they’re going to fall down on their own before any developer gets in here to knock them down. The night is dark, the thick blanket of clouds overhead blotting out the light, leaving the world in a monochromatic gloom.

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