Page 82 of Ballistic

“Okay,” he said, and toddled across the room to grab his sister’s hand.

I looked away as she stood up from the bed, and the two rustled around in the drawers across the room. Within minutes, they were dressed, and Daniel led his sister back to where I stood.

The little girl’s lips turned downward, and she dropped her gaze from mine. “Are you gonna tell the lady I was bad?”

“What lady, sweetheart?”

“The lady that comes to our house and asks my daddy questions. I don’t want to go to jail.”

I reached out to stroke her hair, and when she flinched, telling she’d undoubtedly been hit before, another twinge of anger scorched my blood. “Nobody’s gonna put you in jail. What’s your name, princess?”

She glanced at her brother and picked at her nails. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“I’m here to help you. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Her gaze fell from mine, and she wiped her finger across her nose. “Larissa.”

“I called hew Lala.”

“You’re not bad, okay? Nobody’s going to put you in jail.” No doubt the rotten cocksucker must’ve told her someone would take her away, if she’d told anyone about the abuse. “I’m gonna grab your dad here and take him to the hospital, to make sure he’s okay. You guys are going to stay with a really nice lady I know.”

“Is she—”

“Not the lady who asks questions. A nicer lady, I promise.”

One who wouldn’t have been duped by a few practiced responses.

I strode across the room and hoisted the fat fuck off the bed, slipping my arms beneath his. Bastard probably only stood about five eight, which put him at about two-twenty- or- thirty deadweight in my arms.

I transported him out of the room and down the staircase. The two kids followed behind me, as I carried his half naked ass across the yard, to where I’d parked my ‘Cuda behind the adjacent bushes.

“You two hop in the backseat.”

Kenny groaned, when I dragged him around the vehicle to the trunk, popped the lid of it, and shoved him inside. Turned out he wasn’t dead. Yet.

Good.

I slammed the trunk shut and tugged my phone from my pocket. Yeah, it was late, but I didn’t have any choice.

Gina’s number remained at the top of my recent calls, and I dialed it, feeling like shit for calling in the middle of the night.

“Dax?” Her groggy voice carried a hint of irritation and small bit of concern. “It’s almost two in the morning. What’s going on?”

“Found two kids. They’re young. Maybe six and three. They don’t have a place to stay tonight.”

She cleared her throat and swallowed. “Bring them over. They can stay here tonight.”

“Sorry for calling so late, Gin. I didn’t know where else to take them.”

“It’s okay. Five years, and you’ve never let me return the favor. I’m happy to do this for you.”

Five years ago, I’d been exploring an abandoned building downtown with my buddies, Xavier and Rhys, when I’d stumbled upon a woman who’d O.D.’d on drugs. Got her to the hospital, where she’d been placed in detox, got clean, and then I’d hooked her up with a buddy of mine. They’d married soon after, and she’d opened up her own shelter for kids—teens, mostly—that specialized in drug abuse.

I made my way to the driver’s seat, and stared into the rearview mirror at the two kids who were going to be fatherless by night’s end.

Too fucking bad. The little girl might not have known better at her age, but someday she’d be a woman. One who’d go through life feeling different from the other kids. She’d feel inadequate, and never fully connect with anyone because she’d forever be unable to trust people. She’d blame herself and start ripping apart her best pieces. And every time she’d look at a man, she’d see that piece of shit’s face.

“Why’d you put him in the trunk?” she asked, as I fired up the engine and drove away from the house.