Page 68 of Hired By My Rich Baby Daddy

I bent down to Summer, and she immediately wrapped her arms around me. “Baby girl, you okay?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m just very scared,” she said, her little voice shaking.

“Don’t worry, baby. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to you. You hear me?” I rubbed her back and looked up at Paisley. “Go get in the truck right now.”

That’s when I heard it—a man laughing behind me.

I stood up and turned around. There was Rah, stumbling toward me.

“Oh, look who it is,” he slurred, laughing like shit was hilarious. “Mr. Captain Save-a-Hoe. Shouldn’t you besomewhere following your brother around? Look at you, pulling up in the hood like you still belong here, pretty boy.”

I didn’t even respond. I just looked back at Paisley. “Go. Get in the car. Now! Leave the bags right there. I’ll grab them.”

She grabbed Summer’s hand and took off toward the truck. The second that door closed, I turned back to Rah.

“You put your hands on my baby mama in front of my fucking daughter. In front of your own child. You fucking crazy, nigga?”

“What you gonna do, pretty boy?” He was still smiling, still laughing like this was all a joke.

I didn’t give him time to say anything else. I pulled my pistol out before he could even blink. No talking, no warning. I started pistol-whipping him over and over. He fell to the ground, and I kept going, kept hitting him until blood was pouring out of his mouth, his nose, everywhere.

“Stop! Princeton, stop!” Paisley was yelling from inside the truck. “Please!”

I could hear Summer crying, and that’s what made me stop. That’s what pulled me back from doing something I couldn’t take back.

I was breathing hard, heated, but I stopped. I squatted down next to Rah, who was bleeding profusely, moaning and groaning, rolling around on the ground. I got close to his face.

“You a sorry excuse for a man,” I told him, my voice low and deadly. “Don’t you ever, ever put your hands on another woman again. You understand me? Not her. Not nobody. You do this shit again; I’m putting a bullet in you. That ain’t a threat. That’s a promise.”

I stood up, put my gun away, and walked back to the truck. I climbed in and looked at the kids and Paisley. “Y’all good?”

“Yeah,” Paisley said, crying and sniffling. “Yeah, we good. I just… I don’t want you getting locked up for killing him. He’s not worth it.”

“He gone live for now, but I’ma take you to the hospital.”

“Okay, just… let me go grab his car seat real quick from my car.”

“I can grab it.” I went to get out, but she stopped me.

“No, it’s okay… I got it. Can you hold him for a second?”

I nodded, and she handed me the baby. He was crying, so I held him close and bounced him a little bit, trying to calm him down.

“It’s okay, little man. It’s okay. We good,” I whispered, patting him on his back.

Paisley jumped out, walked over to her car, and grabbed the car seat. When she came back, she got it strapped up, and I handed him back to Pais. His cries were dying down as my phone started ringing.

I looked at the screen.

Unknown number. I answered it, confused.

“Yo!”

“Hi, is this Princeton Brentley?” A woman’s voice came through, sounding professional, further confusing the fuck out of me.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Oh, uh…this is Jillian, calling from St. General Hospital regarding your sister, Theresa Brentley.” We’ve been trying to reach your family. Your sister, Theresa Brentley, uh… she overdosed. We were able to stabilize her, but she’s currently in critical condition, and?—”