by Chelle Bliss
Her face had bruised overnight, the impact of the airbag leaving its mark. She’d heal in a few days, and with a little makeup, it’d be barely noticeable.
After she spat out her toothpaste in the most unladylike fashion, she turned to face me. “Will you take me home after coffee?”
I cupped my hand under the water, filled my palm, and brought it to my lips. After I swished it around and stared at her, I spat it and answered. “We’ll talk about it after coffee.”
“Don’t make me call my dad.”
“He knows you’re here.”
“But I’ll tell him you’re holding me hostage,” she threatened with a small grin.
“Go ahead.” I placed my toothbrush back in the cup where it belonged.
“Coffee,” she said, changing the subject.
I grabbed the crutches and handed them to her. “You first. I’ll follow in case you fall.”
Her nostrils flared as she placed the crutches under her arms. “You’re a little overbearing.” She took a step forward, wobbling a little.
“I know,” I admitted, reaching out and grabbing her hips.
“The last thing I need is another overprotective man,” she huffed, slowly making her way out of the bathroom.
I dashed in front of her, kicking shit that I’d left on the floor out of her way. “Hey, now. You’re injured, so yes, I’m going to be protective of you.”
She didn’t respond as we made our way to my kitchen and I started to make the coffee. I left her on her own to sit down at the island and deal with her crutches. I didn’t want to suffocate her, but I glanced over my shoulder a couple of times, making sure she was okay.
“Your place is nice. I haven’t looked around too much, though.”
I hit start on the coffee maker. “You sound surprised.”
“I am,” she said, glancing around the room. “I expected it to be more…”
“Frat-like?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe. It’s cleaner than I thought.”
“It’s the military in me.”
“Interesting.”
A phone started to ring in the bedroom, but it wasn’t my ringer. “Can you get that? It’s my phone. It may be work.”
I pushed off the counter and ran to the bedroom, grabbing both phones from my pants pocket. It wasn’t the school calling, but her father.
“It’s your dad!” I yelled from the bedroom.
“Answer it!”
“Fuck,” I muttered before answering the call. “Hello.”
“Frisco?”
“Yes, sir.” I grimaced.
“How’s my girl?”
“She seems good. Feisty as ever.”
“Good to hear,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Would you mind bringing her here for the day?”
I scratched my head and turned in a circle before heading back toward the kitchen. “Sure.”
Georgia gave me a strange look and held out her hand.
“Georgia wants to talk to you.” I started to hand the phone to her.
“Frisco!” he yelled into the phone.
I brought it back to my ear. “Yes, sir?”
“You and I have some work to do today.”
I glanced at Georgia and dragged my eyes away from her. “Yeah.”
“Put my baby girl on the phone.”
I held the phone out to her.
She gave me a weird look as she studied me. “Hey, Daddy.” She leaned forward against the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she spoke.
The knot in my stomach that had dissipated returned full force. I wasn’t scared of the man or what he wanted us to do, but lying to Georgia about it didn’t sit well. It wasn’t an outright lie, more a lie of omission.
I poured our coffee and slid a mug in front of her as she chatted. Watching her, I sipped the warm black liquid I couldn’t do without.
“We’ll be there in an hour,” she told him, sliding her cup closer. “Yeah, Dad. See you soon.” She stared at the screen before setting her phone on the counter. As she wrapped her hands around the mug, she sighed. “Sorry about him.”
“I like your dad,” I lied and took another sip.
“Mm-hmm.” As she tipped the cup back, taking her first sip, she closed her eyes and savored the taste.
Her father had me a bit on edge, and I’d forgotten to even ask how she wanted her coffee, but I guess she was like me, no bullshit, just caffeine. After grabbing the Tylenol from the cabinet, I set two pills down in front of her. “Take those.”
She nodded and swallowed them down with her coffee before I had a chance to get her a glass of water.
“I need a shower.” She pushed her empty cup toward me and smelled her hair.
“How about a sponge bath?” I asked with a grin.
“Never mind.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ll just wait until you take me home.”
“I won’t be leaving you alone for a couple of days.”
“Why?”
“When you’re less sore, then I’ll leave you alone.”
Her eyes bored holes into me. “Why?”
I could see how this conversation was going, and Georgia wasn’t happy with me. “’Cause you need help.”
She rose from her chair and balanced on her crutches. “I don’t.”
“I think you need a shower,” I said, changing the subject. “Let me get a garbage bag.”
She looked at me confused. “Why?”
I motioned toward the cast with one hand and pulled a bag from the cabinet. “You can’t get that wet.”
Her lips formed a perfect O. “Fuck, I forgot.”
“Let me take care of you and stop bitching.”
Her body recoiled and her eyes narrowed. “Did you just call me a bitch?”
My eyes widened and I moved toward her. “I’d never utter those words,” I said, touching her cheek and dusting my lips against hers.
“You better not. I think this cast could do a number on your balls.”
I laughed into her mouth before kissing her. “Will it be that awful to shower with me for a few days?” I murmured against her lips.
“No,” she muttered and sighed. “Doesn’t sound so bad.” Her eyes roamed over my face before I felt her smile.
“We better hurry. Wouldn’t want to keep Dad waiting.”
It was my turn to sigh. “No, we wouldn’t want to do that.”
***
“Georgia, I’m going to steal Frisco away for a few minutes.” Mr. Phillips nudged my shoulder, almost knocking me off-kilter.
Her eyes darted to me. “I guess it’s okay.”
“Thanks, baby girl,” he said, leaning forward and kissing the top of her head before moving toward the living room.
“We’ll be quick.”
“What’s he want with you?” She studied my face.
“Just guy talk,” I lied.
“Let them go,” her mother said, putting her hand on top of Georgia’s before she glanced at me. “We can girl talk.”
Georgia nodded, and I took it as my cue to join her father in the living room.
“Sit,” he commanded and motioned toward the couch across from his chair. Coming face-to-face with a man, the father of the woman you’re currently trying to bed, who you can’t punch if they speak out of turn, is all kinds of scary. It’s the one person in the world who can hate your fucking guts and you’re helpless to defend yourself with your hands.
“Let’s get a few things straight,” he started as I sat down. “We didn’t get to talk privately much at the hospital yesterday, and I have a few things to say.”
I nodded and knew where this conversation was headed.
“I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of you dating my daughter when she told us about you. For one, you’re kind of old for her.”
Smiling didn’t feel appropriate, but I couldn’t help but feel my lips twitch. “I understand. I had the same worry.”
“But Georgia speaks highly of you, and she doesn’t upsell anyon
e. Then she tells me you’re a PI. I’m not knocking the profession.” He held up his hands and made a look of disgust. “But it’s not a solid job.”
“It is,” I argued and leaned back in the chair, pretending to be relaxed.
“What’s your background? I checked your criminal record, but you don’t have one. I figured since you’re on the fringe of law enforcement that you possibly had a criminal background.”
“I attended college and served in the military.”
“What branch?” He stroked his chin, waiting for my response.
“I was a SEAL, sir.”
He whistled, and his hand stilled on his chin. “Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“College?”
“I studied pre-law.”
“Why didn’t you do anything with your degree?”
“Much to the dismay of my parents, I found it too boring. Private investigation fits me better. It’s a solid company run by two guys who used to work for the DEA.”
“Dirty law enforcement?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
I shook my head and grimaced. “No, sir. They were sick of working undercover and wanted to put their skills to use. They felt they could be more helpful with their own firm.”
“Burned out,” he said quietly and turned to stare out of the window. “It happens sometimes.” He sighed before he looked back at me. “Why Frisco? It’s an odd first name.” He scrunched up his face.
“You’d have to ask my mother, sir.” I gripped the arm of the couch tightly. I couldn’t lose my cool or seem snippy. Georgia’s father held a lot of clout with her, and I wasn’t about to let him come between us.
“Enough of the bullshit. Let’s talk about last night.”
“Hit me,” I muttered, grimacing and regretting the term.
“Was a man driving?” He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. “I can’t go after a woman.”
“From what I could see. It all happened so quickly but, yes, it was a man.”
“Good.” He nodded and pushed himself up from the chair. “I want you to write down everything you remember. Get your people on it, and I’ll do some digging down at the station. I want to find this person.” He leaned against the wall and looked out the window.
“But shouldn’t we let the cops handle it?”
“Are you a pussy, son?” He turned to face me.
“No.” I shook my head. “But—”
“No buts. We find them first. Were you scared last night?”
I nodded, remembering the feeling of fear and helplessness I’d experienced watching the accident play out in front of my eyes. “Very.” My body began to shake with the amount of anger starting to boil inside me, slowly building every time I replayed the asshole driving off.
“They drove away,” he said, turning back to look outside. “They didn’t care about my Georgia. They’re going to pay for that.”
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes, ignoring the gnawing ache in my gut.
I didn’t get where I’d turned into a one-word wonder around this man. No man had ever intimidated me. Not even the officers who outranked me in the military. But there was something about Mr. Phillips that made me second-guess everything.
He handed me a pad of paper he’d retrieved from a cabinet near the window. “Write everything down. Don’t leave one thing out.”
“Okay. Can I call you George?” I remembered his wife calling him that last night at the hospital. It was all a fucking blur, but I did remember that.
“You can call me Mr. Phillips.” He glared and hovered above me.
“Mr. Phillips.” The prick needed to chill the fuck out. I got that he was wound up about his daughter, but at some point, especially if we were a team, he needed to not view me as an inferior person.
“Write,” he growled, pointing at the paper before stalking off to the same cabinet he’d retrieved the paper from. “Drink?” he asked and removed a carafe of amber liquid.
“I don’t drink this early in the morning.”
“I’m too nervous not to have something to calm my nerves. If you’re lucky enough to have children,” he said as he glanced at me over his shoulder, “you’ll understand how I feel.”
I nodded, even though I already knew how he felt. Georgia wasn’t my kid, but she was still mine. I’d protect her with my life if I had to. Seeing her in pain and watching her almost die before my eyes in a way that made me feel helpless would never happen again. I’d make fucking sure of it.
I started to write down the details, pausing and looking up when I heard the clink of the carafe against the glass. His hand shook as he tried to pour the liquid into the crystal tumbler. From the outside, he seemed cool as a cucumber, but inside, he was a ball of nerves, much like me.
Every man dealt with stress differently. I didn’t drown it in the bottom of a bottle; I used it to drive me forward. No matter what happened, the person would pay for what they did to Georgia.
When I finished jotting down everything I remembered, I tossed the pad on the coffee table and looked at him. He stared out the window, deep in thought, and sipped his drink. “I wrote down everything I could remember.”
“Good,” he said without looking. “I’m sure your company can help in the search, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I replied and stood from the couch, cracking my neck to relieve the tension.
“I’ll head to the station and do some digging. I can’t do too much without drawing red flags. You head to the office and see what you can find. Got me?”
“But what about Georgia?” I glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen.
“She can stay here with Rosie.”
“I’m coming back for her this afternoon,” I told him, unwilling to back down. I wouldn’t let either of her parents run the show, and I wanted to be the one to take care of Georgia. I needed to do it to help quell my feelings of guilt over the entire situation.
“Fine.” He looked at his watch. “Let’s meet back here around four. We’ll have dinner and discuss what we’ve found.”
“That works.”
He set down his glass and moved toward me quickly. “This stays between us. Understand?” He waved his finger in my face, and it took everything in me not to slap it away.
I tried not to lose my patience. “I got it.”
“Four,” he reminded me as he held out his hand to me.
“Four.” I shook his hand and squeezed it as hard as he’d squeezed mine yesterday.
I’d made a decision about Mr. Phillips. He wasn’t going to bully me. Georgia or not, he wasn’t going to run the show. If I let him walk all over me now, there would be hell to pay in the future.
When that thought crossed my mind, I felt the blood drain from my face. The future. I hadn’t thought about the future with anyone since Jeanine. Subconsciously, I’d already started to think about Georgia and where we’d be. I didn’t have time to dissect my feelings or what this meant, but I knew there would be some major thinking to do and decisions to be made in the future.
I followed Mr. Phillips into the kitchen as both women glanced at us.
“How did it go?” Mrs. Phillips rose from the chair to kiss her husband.
“Great, love. Frisco has to go to work, but he’ll be back for dinner at four.”
Georgia’s eyes widened and honed in on the clock across the room. “Four?”
“Sorry, babe. I have to run to work and take care of a few things.”
“I can come,” she said, reaching toward the floor to grab her crutches.
“Georgia, let me take care of you today. I haven’t been able to do it in years. I want to pamper you.” Rosie grabbed the crutches from Georgia’s hand and put them back on the ground.
“But I—” Georgia began, but her mother placed her hand on her shoulder.
“Let the men work, and we’ll cook them a feast.”
Georgia glared at me. “You better come back, Frisco, or you won’t have a Felicia,” she mumbled.
“What couple?” Mr. Phillips asked, totally out of the loop.
“No one, honey.” Rosie made her way to his side. “Are you going down to the station?”
He nodded. “I told the guys I’d stop by and say hello, but I’ll be back for dinner.”
I walked up to Georgia and leaned over. “Sorry, babe,” I said, whispering in her ear. “I promise to come back for you.”
“I swear to God, if you leave me here with my helicopter parents, I’ll hunt your ass down and make you regret the day you were born,” she said with her lips against my cheek.
“Babe, I’ll be back for you,” I told her before I kissed her softly on the lips. “I have a sponge bath to give later.”
“That sounds like a reward for you,” she whispered in my ear.
“It may be my reward, but it’s going to be your pleasure.”
“I like the way you think, Mr. Jones.”
“Wait for me.” I started to back away.
She held up her hands, motioning as if to say, “Where the fuck am I going to go?” and I couldn’t help but laugh as I headed toward the front door.
“I’m going to walk Frisco out, love. Be home soon,” Mr. Phillips said before he caught up to me. He nudged me in the back and held out a business card. “Here’s my number. Call me when you get anything.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, jamming the card into my pocket before I climbed into my car and headed toward the office.
Chapter 15
Found
“So let me get this straight,” Thomas said, leaning forward in his chair after I’d explained to him and James what happened last night. “He’s a retired cop.”
“Yeah, and?”
“He wants to find this person, and what?” He tapped his pen against the desktop and stopped while he waited for an answer.
“He thinks we can be faster than the cops. He’s kind of a scary dude.”
Thomas shrugged as his lips twisted. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”
“I’m so in.” James clapped his hands together.
“Why do I have a sinking feeling?”
“Does Georgia know?” Thomas asked, tossing the pen off to the side and straightening his back.