Page 27 of Daddy's Little Convict
"I know, sweetheart." He couldn't help but kiss the top of her head again. "I know."
She dissolved wordlessly into despairing sobs. "He hurt me, Daddy," she keened, the pain in her small voice punching straight through his gut, soul, and heart.
He held her tight, glad she couldn't see the dark fury he wasn't strong enough to keep off his face. "Who hurt you, baby? Tell Daddy. Was it Travis?"
She burrowed into his neck, then nodded. "I don't want to work on a pot farm. I don't want to go back to jail."
"You won't. Daddy's got you now," he vowed. "Daddy will keep you safe."
She hiccupped, the fury of her sobs gradually easing until, pushing away from him, Tabby sat up in his lap. She looked at the floor, her small voice as lost as the rest of her now seemed. She was hunched, huddled in around herself as she listlessly stated, "I don't have a Daddy."
After this? The hell she didn't.
Chapter 8
He was going to kill Travis.
Jeff knelt by the tub, carefully rinsing the soap from her hair. It was their second bath. The water had turned nasty the first time he'd washed her—all the dirt, burrs and twigs that she'd picked up from working the illegal pot farm, not to mention the long walk she'd ended her day on, having colored the water beyond what anyone could get clean in. Her clothes were in the wash. The doctor had come and gone, and although she had broken down crying all over again when Doc announced he was starting her antibiotics routine with a shot of the good stuff to her hip, her fussing had been more like that of any Little faced with having to bare her bottom for a shot.
"She's beyond tired," Jeff had told Doc Johnson, even as he'd pulled her up out of the newly drawn fresh water. With a towel laid over his lap, he lay her over his knees, catching her wrist and pinning it to her waist when she tried to protest. She was too exhausted—too broken in body and spirit—to offer any kind of effective fight.
Shaking his head, Doc gave her the shirt before pinning Jeff with a knowing look. "You say that as if you think I don't know what kind of kinky fuckery you get up to. You forget, I took care of Sheila when she fell off that ladder back when you two were still together. I saw the marks you put on her ass."
Heat touched his cheeks, but it wasn't the Doc's fault that he wasn't in the mood for even the slightest bit of teasing.
"She knew better. Ladders are my job, especially when I’m with a little girl who could trip over sunbeams."
"Lord knows I've been tempted to wallop my wife's sitter a time or two, but you're lucky I know you so well. If I'd thought for a second you'd walloped Sheila without… what do these young people call it, consent?"
"You'd have socked me one?" Jeff guessed.
"I wouldn't have stopped until I had your badge and you were in jail," the older man corrected, then pointed at her feet. "So, who did that?"
"Travis," he returned. "You going to stop before he’s in jail?"
Gathering his things, Doc handed him a short stack of prescriptions to get filled. "Call me. Because I will testify."
That had been, what… Jeff looked at his watch… fifteen minutes ago? He was definitely going to include Doc's statement when he arrested Travis, but that was for tomorrow. Tonight, he had more important things to worry about.
Making sure all the soap and shampoo was out of her hair, he pulled the plug so the tub could drain and reached for a towel. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, he lay it across his lap and pulled her up, dripping and all, to sit on his knees. He dried her with another towel, squeezing the extra drops from her hair before gently running a brush through the tangles. Making sure there were no burrs hidden in her tresses, he wiped her face one more time, then looked at her.
She remained silent and withdrawn, but unlike before, his confidence that at least she was aware of him was growing. She was ignoring him, but at least she was aware.
It was also strange, because although seemingly determined not to engage with him, she was making no effort at all to hide her suddenly all too apparent Little side.
Her head was down, and her thumb in her mouth. She didn't look at him or move in any way to hide her nakedness as he dried her.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
She nodded without taking her thumb out of her mouth.
Grilled cheese, applesauce… he didn't know if he had any cookies. Sheila had loved frosted animal crackers with sprinkles. Once upon a time, he used to have a cupboard full of them, but not so much since they'd parted ways.
He might have some Oreos somewhere.
Wrapping the towel around her, he carried her out to the living room couch. Turning on the TV, he handed her the remote. "I'll be right back with your jammies."
She didn't answer.
