“Daddy!”
George’s hug threatens him more than the blow to his head. She squeezes so hard, his arm flaps, trying to get free.
“Come on,” I tell her, lifting her under the opposite shoulder to where she’s hurt. “We need to get going now!”
“Help me with him.” She ignores my direction, trying to get her father to sit upright.
“Leave him.” I pull her away, grabbing her tightly around her waist when she struggles. “That man won’t stay gone. He’ll grab a few buddies and head straight back here. We need to go now.”
“I’m not going to leave my father.”
Yes, she is.
That’s precisely why I’ve paid so much to stage this scene.
I throw her over my shoulder, and immediately change my mind when she punches me in my lower back. “Jesus. Stop that.” I set her on her feet again, grabbing her wrists and holding them together. “Stop fighting me. We have to go.”
“My father needs help.”
“I don’t give a shit what your father needs!”
My shout is so loud that George stops, staring at me in confusion. I close my eyes, fighting for control. “If we’re here when they come back, they’ll hurt you. We need to go. You can call for help from the car.”
“I don’t need an ambulance,” her father groans, sitting up and leaning back against the counter cabinets. “You go on, love.”
Love.What a fucking joke.
“No. I’ll stay here and we’ll—”
This time I scoop her into my arms, one around her shoulders, one under her legs. We’re halfway out of the kitchen before she adjusts to the change enough to struggle. I try to open the door one-handed, but she kicks it shut, bowing her body until I have no choice but to set her down.
“Dad needs help. We can’t just leave him here.”
“He needs help.” I let my head drop forward, giving a hollow laugh. “And has he asked you for help, George? Did he ask you to take him along to a meeting? Help him get back on track?”
“N-no, but once he’s—”
“No. The answer is just no.” I cup her face in my hands, staring into her blazing eyes, hoping she can see past the panic long enough to listen. “He caused this mess. He can live with it. We’re leaving.”
Her chin juts out as she stands her ground, eyes so angry they should come with their own fire hazard dial.
I can manhandle her to the car, but it’ll draw attention. A pretty white girl screaming blue murder while fighting off her attacker is every cop’s wet dream.
“Go get in the car, George.” I hand her the keys. “I’ll help your father call an ambulance but we’re not staying. Do you understand?”
“I’m not leaving until I see him get into the ambulance.”
“He’s right,” her father calls out. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
I arch my eyebrow. “See?”
The man’s no further up the food chain than a cockroach. Of course, he can take a beating and survive.
She takes the keys, eyeing me with visible reluctance. I sigh with relief when she walks outside, casting a worried gaze back at me.
I walk back to the kitchen and eye her father. He grimaces and I throw a teatowel at him. “Use this to stop the bleeding.”
“Thanks for your—”
