Page 174 of Merciless Daddy

The silence stretched until she pulled her knees closer to her chest.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“All right.”

She turned quickly, fear flaring in her eyes.

“All right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No.Of course not, baby.”

I stood and held out my hand.

“But, it’s bedtime.”

Her face fell.

“Sal—”

“We will continue tomorrow. You need sleep more than you need another hour of fighting yourself.”

“I can work it out.”

“No. Not tonight.”

She looked toward the library door. Toward the reports. Toward every place she could turn herself into a useful instrument.

Then she put her hand in mine.

I took her upstairs. I tucked her into bed. I read three pages of The Firebird in a Russian accent so bad that she managed to smile at me through exhaustion.

When I kissed her forehead, she caught my wrist.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I covered her hand with mine.

Pietro called me downstairs ten minutes later.

A vehicle had been seen twice on the county road. Nothing conclusive. Enough to check.

I stood in the security room with him while the camera feeds rolled across the monitors. The same dark sedan. Different angles. A plate obscured by road salt.

“Could be nothing,” Pietro said.

“Nothing doesn’t repeat itself twice.”

He nodded.