Page 8 of Daddy’s Oath (The Daddy Guard #2)

Chapter Eight

Lana’s right foot caught on the neighboring balcony’s railing.

She tumbled forward and landed hard on her stomach.

Her face came inches away from the concrete.

But she landed. She was alive and not splattered on the pavement three floors below.

She stood quickly and ignored the pain of the fall as she dashed the few feet to the fire escape. Just then, she heard someone angrily call her name.

Not Lana. Her other name. The one she’d been born with.

Shit! This was even worse than she thought. Not just random burglars breaking in.

They’d found her.

A quick glance over her shoulder revealed two large men on her balcony. One was scrambling to get on the railing, the same way she’d done, but he was a lot bigger, and his balance was wobbly.

She wasn’t about to stick around and see if he ever made the jump. Hitting the fire escape, she hurriedly climbed down the steel ladder. The descent didn’t take long, but she realized she had another problem.

The fire escape ended before it reached the ground. About half a story before, in fact.

That made sense, she realized. It was a safety feature. It kept passerby from climbing up.

But how was she supposed to get down? Surely there was a way to dislodge it!

There wasn’t time to figure it out, though. She had to move fast. That one guy might have made the jump. For all she knew, he was about to be right there with her at the end of the ladder.

Or the intruders had just turned around and used the elevator or stairs.

Either way, they were probably coming quickly.

She looked below and saw an open dumpster. It was about half full. With a groan, she realized that was the only way.

Taking a deep breath and plugging her nose, she let go, falling the half story.

She’d done gymnastics all through her teen years, so she knew how to properly land.

The bed of garbage wasn’t nearly as soft as the foam pit or mats she used to dive into, but it was sure a lot better than hard concrete.

The smell was outright rancid, though.

Fighting her gag reflex, Lana scrambled to stand. Flies buzzed around her. Pieces of molted lettuce clung to her legs. Her left foot got tangled in the drawstring of a black trash bag and she had to bend low and use her hands to free it.

A moment later, she was out of the dumpster.

But still not in the clear.

Her phone was up in her apartment. The men probably weren’t there, though. They were most likely on their way down.

And while she could hear a siren approaching, a quick calculation told her the best option was to move. How would she even explain this to the cops anyway? Was she supposed to? Or should she call her handler?

She had their number memorized.

Maybe that was the best course of action. They’d know what to do.

A myriad of fears ran through her brain. Would they move her? Would she have to leave her beloved job behind? Her apartment? Clearly that was compromised. Somehow, they’d found out where she lived.

Right now, it was imperative that she just stay alive long enough to even be concerned with that stuff. Everything could be figured out once she was safe.

Part of her still wondered if she should run toward the sirens. The police would protect her until she could call her handler. But she’d been instructed not to reveal her identity to anyone.

What if the cops were involved in this?

Surely not. In Los Angeles, she was just one nameless, faceless person in a sea of humans. There was no vast conspiracy.

At least she hoped not.

The people after her were powerful. Lana wouldn’t put anything past them.

So, if she wasn’t comfortable going to the cops, where could she go?

Standing there in that alley, she drew shallow breaths, her heart feeling as if it might thump right out of her chest.

Think, Lana. Think!

Harrison Trent! He’d told her knew about a group who helped Littles!

She didn’t have his contact information, though. But they had something in common.

Auntie Athena’s West Hollywood Nursery.

It was a few miles away. She was wearing only her sleep shorts, a thin t-shirt, and had bare feet. Not ideal walking conditions. But if she kept to the shadows and made her way along the backroads and alleys, she could reach it in a couple of hours, maybe.

With that in mind, she hurried away. As she listened to the sirens stopping on the other side of the building, she wondered if she was making the right decision.

Perhaps the cops had found the two thugs as they left through the building’s front doors or something.

But also there was a chance those thugs would appear at any moment on that fire escape.

It was best that she run.

She reached Hollywood Boulevard and rounded the corner. There were still plenty of people out, even though it was probably about midnight. The Boulevard would eventually slow down. But for a couple more hours, at least, it would be busy.

Across the street, the shop advertising LINGERIE AND COSTUMES was still doing moderate business. A few scantily clad women stood a couple of doors down, as if casually waiting while leaning against the building, and Lana figured they were sex workers.

On her own side of the street, a couple of people sat against the building that housed a bodega.

That shop was closed, but the souvenir store connected to it still had its two garage doors rolled up, with patrons milling about, looking at the countless magnets, mugs, and other low-price items that read HOLLYWOOD.

Some people gave her strange looks. Others just went on about their business.

Hollywood Boulevard had its share of oddities. A young woman in her pajamas walking barefoot wasn’t the most unusual thing that could happen there on any given day.

Against the curb, several street vendors remained, though many had gone in for the night.

She kept going, past a pizza place, a smoke shop, and toward an oddly placed medieval torture museum.

Most of the stuff around there had to do with movies and entertainment.

Lana had never figured out what the Middle Ages had to do with all that.

But, then again, the Boulevard could be a strange place.

To her left was a vendor who seemed to be packing up for the night.

“Ma’am,” the older Hispanic man called. “You need shoes. It is not good to be walking like that.” His gaze fell to her feet as he put a box of fruit in the back of his pickup truck that was parked against the curb.

For some reason, Lana stopped walking and stepped closer to him. “I know. I’m… in a hurry.”

There was no use explaining any more.

A woman who was about the same age stepped around from the front of the truck. “Forgive my husband. He does not mean to pry. He’s just worried. The ground, it…” She waved her hand toward the sidewalk, as if to indicate how dirty it was.

Her accent was as thick as the man’s.

“You can have my shoes,” she added.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t?—”

The woman smiled softly. “Si. We are going home. I have more there. You must take them.”

Lana looked the direction she’d come. Thankfully, she didn’t see the two guys approaching. Had she lost them? Or had they been arrested?

She then looked back to see the couple exchanging glances.

“Where is it you seek to go?” the man asked.

“West Hollywood,” Lana replied.

She didn’t know why she trusted this couple. But she did.

“Please. We will give you a ride. This is—what you’re doing—is unsafe,” the woman said. “Please.”

Lana climbed in their truck and thanked them profusely.

Maybe she’d reach Auntie Athena’s safely, after all.