I don’t know who the man is in the video, but I have a good guess.
Sissy’s father.
He is the T I forgot to cross. He’s the base I didn’t cover.
And now he’s taken my angel away from me. Not only that, he pointed a gun at her. He struck her. Knocked her unconscious. I come very close to crashing my SUV into the parking garage wall at the memory of it. Who could cause harm to such a gentle creature? I don’t know. But he’s going to fucking pay for it.
Two turns later, my tires are squealing onto the strip and I’m hitting the gas in the direction of I-70, knowing that if this motherfucker is bringing Sissy back to Nebraska, they will have to travel east on the interstate. He has a twenty-seven-minute head start on me, but he probably isn’t driving like a bat out of hell. At least, he better not be with such precious cargo in the back seat. Is she hurt? Is she in pain?
I slam the steering wheel with my fist and shout an expletive, my foot laying down on the gas even harder. Once I’m on the interstate, it seems to take hours to find the old blue Chrysler. I’m starting to worry that he’s taken a different route when it comes into view up ahead, right there in the middle lane. I don’t allow myself to feel relief yet. Not yet. I don’t know what condition she’s in and I can’t feel anything but violent knowing she’s scared.
I’ve always been a peaceful man, a man of God. Right now, however, I wish for a weapon. Something besides my fists and wit, both of which seem inadequate right now. But that’s when heaven sends me help in the form of a traffic jam. The Chrysler slows to a stop in front of me, brake lights appearing all around, desert stretching on all sides.
A gruff, miserable sound escapes me when Sissy sits up in the back seat, pressing a hand to her head, clearly disoriented. Definitely in pain. My heart can’t stand the sight of it-and I can’t wait anymore. I throw my SUV into park and alight from the driver’s side, my mind going into some kind of survival mode. Her survival.
It all happens in the space of seconds, but they move in slow motion for me.
I rip open the back door of the Chrysler. “Sissy,” I bark, not allowing myself to look at her or risk losing focus. If I see blood on her head, I’ll probably go ballistic and I don’t need emotion right now. I need to remain calm. I need be effective. “Go get in my car, honey. Move.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her do as I ask, whimpering my name as she bolts from the vehicle. “He has a gun, Locke!”
Without missing a beat, I wrench open the driver’s side door. It only takes a split second to register the slight resemblance to Sissy and confirm it’s her father. He’s already lifting his gun, but I’m ready for it. I catch his wrist in my hand and twist with all of my strength, snapping the bone and making him squeal like a baby. The gun lands down near his feet and I have it in my hands in seconds, cocked and pointing at a spot right between his eyes.
“Don’t shoot,” he begs, fear slackening his features. “Please.”
“Believe me when I say if there were no witnesses on this interstate, you would already be dead. I would drag your sorry carcass out into this desert and leave you for the buzzards to feast on. But the police would take me away from her. And no one, no fucking one is ever going to separate me from that girl.” I move in close, wedging the muzzle of the gun to the center of his forehead, my finger aching to pull the trigger. “Especially you, you weak, pathetic excuse for a man. Do you understand me? If you ever even think about coming within a thousand miles of Sissy again, I will leave pieces of you scattered all over Vegas. They’ll never put you together again. You don’t deserve to call yourself her father.” I flip the gun around and pistol whip him across the face, sending a spray of blood across the dashboard and two of his teeth in the back seat. “And every night for the rest of your life, when you’re lying in bed trying to fall asleep, remember she calls another man Daddy now. And I’m giving her the kind of care you never could.”
With that, I put his lights out, bringing the butt of the gun down on his temple one extra time in Sissy’s name. I reach across the man’s slumped body and put the car in park, then I slide the gun into my jacket and walk back to my SUV where Sissy is waiting. I’m barely inside the vehicle before she launches herself at me over the console, wrapping her arms around my neck and straddling me, shaking, sobbing into my neck.
“It’s okay, honey,” I rasp, overcome with love and relief so thick I can barely speak. “It’s over now. I’ve got you. Are you hurt? Did he fucking hurt you?”
“My head is sore, but I’m fine. I’m fine,” she says in a rush, her eyes wet. “I didn’t write that note-”
“I know. I know you didn’t. There was a moment of doubt, but I realized I know you better than that. I know us better.”
“I never doubted you for a second.” She rains kisses all over my face and I’ve never known deeper contentment in my life. “I knew you would come.”
“No one takes Sissy from Locke. No one takes the love of my life away from me,” I growl, plowing my fingers into her hair and looking over the bump on her forehead, adrenaline and protectiveness hardening my muscles, my abdomen. Coursing lower. “I should end his life for laying a hand on my angel.”
“I’d rather you stay with me, heal me. You’re the only one who can,” she breathes against my mouth, her fingers curling into the lapels of my shirt. The danger is finally catching up with me, making me anxious to be as close to her as possible, to absorb the fact that she’s alive and safe. And my body can only want one thing, her skin on mine, my inches inside of her as deeply as possible where I can feel her beating around me. At the stiffening of my cock, her eyelids grow heavy and she lets out a shaky breath, rocking on my lap with a moan, her pretty thighs already starting to tremble. “Can we skip work tonight?”
I reach into my jacket pocket and take out her engagement ring, sliding it back onto her finger where it belongs. “Whatever my future wife wants, she gets.”
“I want you,” she whispers. “Forever.”
“My Sissy.” My heart hammers uncontrollably. “Nothing could keep me away.”
Epilogue
Sissy
Five Years Later
My husband is not a happy camper.
I can see him just over the shoulder of the photographers, pacing and brooding like a big, angry bull, refusing to take his eyes off me, his hands balled into fists.
The casino asked me to pose for some pictures for a national advertising campaign. They want me to be, “the face of The Palace.” When they proposed the idea to me a few weeks ago, there was an argument between me and Locke. It ended with his mouth buried between my legs and a fist crammed against my lips to keep from screaming and waking the baby, but still, it was a rare argument between me and the man I love beyond all reason.
Obviously, he doesn’t want to see my face on a billboard or in a magazine-or rather, he doesn’t want anyone else to see it-but he has always been the main provider and I refuse to miss this chance to contribute. Besides, I’m fully clothed in my dealer uniform of a crisp, white shirt and black pants, albeit very tight ones. I’m dealing cards and smiling at the camera as it snaps away. Every few minutes, a makeup artist approaches and tousles my hair, adding gloss to my lips and she does so now.
But this time, she whispers in my ear, “The director is afraid to ask in front of your husband, but do you mind undoing one more button on your shirt?”
I glance down at my shirt and weigh the pros and cons. Honestly, even with one more button unfastened, my clothing is still modest. Locke might not even notice if I pop out a measly button-
“Don’t even think about it, Sissy,” he shouts over the noise.
Ah, husband. Haven’t you learned?
My favorite pastime will forever be taunting Locke. Rebelling in ways that bring out the authoritarian in him. That’s how he ended up pleasuring me during our recent fight. I pouted, stomped around our new house and shed clothes little by little until he was so stiff in his briefs that he could do nothing but kneel and drag my panties down to my ankles.
I’m twenty-four now, but I’m still his little girl. And I always will be.
Just like he’ll always be my Daddy-and that Daddy is ready to flip an entire row of blackjack tables at the moment.
“Is it possible to take a short break?” I ask the director, who smiles at me knowingly. It’s obvious that the break will be spent calming down my husband. Good thing I’m an expert at it.
Coming out from behind the table, I approach Locke, not stopping until I’m pressed up against his gorgeous body, my arms circled around his neck. “Take me upstairs, Daddy?” I purr in his ear. “I need attention.”
He’s trying not to soften, although I can see very clearly how pleased he is to have me plastered all over him in public, thus making it clear who I belong to. He’s not quite ready to let go of all his bluster yet, however. “I’d say you’re getting a lot of fucking attention today,” he growls at everyone within earshot. “Too much.”