Page 8

Dagger

T he inside of the car was silent. Quiet as a fucking church, but not just quiet.

Tense. It was oppressive and I hated it, wished I’d done more to connect with my own damn kid.

Since the encounter with Sinclair’s stalker the other night, I’d been unsettled.

Now I had two things to worry about, being a shitty father, and the fact that the woman who was trying to help me with my daughter was being watched.

And I couldn’t be in two places at once.

I’d not seen any signs of her stalker in the parking lot, which meant that he would probably be targeting her at home.

I let out a sigh as my gaze flicked across the front seat to where Dani was pressed against the door, her forehead leaned against the window. She was just as wary of me as she would be of any stranger.

I was her father. Her protector. But I was every bit a stranger to her.

Even more than Sinclair, who she barely knew.

My mind went back to those moments I witnessed between Dani and Sinclair, the ease of their interactions and the smile they shared so freely.

I watched them with their heads bent together, smiling big as if they were sharing the greatest secret in the world.

Sinclair listened when Dani spoke, interested in a way that adults usually weren’t when kids spoke.

She treated Dani as if her words were important.

I couldn’t deny that seeing the easy way they were together made me a bit jealous, making me wish Dani had aimed her smiles at me like that.

It was the first time I’d felt anything other than regret when it came to my relationship with my daughter.

I’d made a big mistake taking my father’s words to heart.

My dad was a cold son of a bitch because he had to be, and he learned that shit from his own dad and internalized it without questioning it.

I did the same thing and now I was paying for it with a little girl who only had me to rely on, and I wasn’t giving her anything she needed beyond food, shelter, and protection.

That stops now.

After a few more minutes of silence, Dani turned to me. “Where are we going?”

I had no fucking clue. “I’m in the mood for pizza, how does that sound?” I held my breath, realizing I was actually nervous that my daughter might reject me.

“I like pizza.”

A long, relieved breath rushed out of me, and I tapped the turn signal to get into the left lane. Pizza was a good start. Though I realized I had no idea what she liked. “What kind of pizza do you like?”

Her face lit up with a smile. “My favorite is with lots of cheese, but Callie always makes me get vegetables, so my new favorite is sausage, peppers, and lots and lots of cheese.”

My lips curled into a small smile. “So what you’re saying is that you really like cheese?”

She giggled. “It’s so good, Dad. And gooey. It’s fun to eat.”

“I never really thought about it as fun, but I guess you’re right.” And I knew exactly the type of pizza to impress a nine-year-old.

***

The best pizza place in town wasn’t much to look at from the outside, just a small storefront with a burgundy awning with white handwritten cursive announcing Mancini’s Pizzeria.

The front was a brick facade, broken up by a giant window with a spray painted image of pizza and meatballs, the restaurant’s specialty dishes. “We’re here.”

Dani looked through the windshield and smiled. “It’s cute.”

“Cute,” I snorted. “Such a girl thing to say.”

She giggled again. “I am a girl.”

“Oh right.” I killed the engine and got out, rounding the car to help Dani, who’d already jumped from the car. “Ready?” I held out my hand to her, smiling when she accepted it without the usual wariness.

Inside, Mancini’s Pizzeria was busier than usual, but there were a few empty tables and one booth which overlooked the street. We claimed the booth and went over the menu together.

“Do you like peppers, Dad?”

It was an innocent enough question, but it was yet another reminder of all the ways I failed her.

Pizza topping preferences was something we should already know about each other, since we clearly loved pizza so much.

“Yes and no. I like spicy peppers and roasted peppers, but not regular ol’ bell peppers. ”

“I like ‘em grilled,” she offered. “They taste kinda sweet when they’re grilled. I don’t know.” She shrugged with a shy smile.

“Let’s do grilled peppers and I’ll get spicy peppers on the side.”

“Can I try one?”

“Of course, but they might be too hot for you.” I hoped not because I wanted to share more things with her.

The server, a pimple-faced boy who couldn’t be older than twenty, stopped at the table with a friendly smile.

“We’ll have the quattro formaggi pizza with grilled peppers and sausage, and a plain Caesar on the side. Thanks.”

Dani’s brows crinkled in confusion. “What’s quattro formaggi ?”

I smiled and pointed to the item on the menu. “What’s it say?”

Her eyes widened in wonder, and she looked so much like her mother before the crazy set in. “Four cheeses?”

I nodded. “That’s what it means, four cheeses. In Italian.” I smiled as Dani tested the words out on her tongue, again and again until she felt confident that she was saying it correctly.

“ Quattro formaggi ,” she said one last time with a satisfied smile. “I like it.”

As the meal wore on, conversation came easier, but it was still like a bad fucking first date. It was nothing like she’d been with the teacher she’d only known for a few weeks.

“How’s the pizza?”

Dani looked up and flashed a greasy smile at me. “So good. All the cheeses taste different.”

By the time the leftovers were packed and the bill was paid, Dani was half asleep, leaving me to carry her and the box to the car.

The drive home was dead silent, and I was half tempted to swing by Sinclair’s house just to check on her, but I couldn’t risk Dani waking up, so I dropped her at home first, tucking her into bed and kissing her forehead good night before I headed back out, telling Callie I had some business to deal with at the clubhouse.

The lights were still on in Sinclair’s house, which meant she was still awake. It wasn’t surprising since it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet, but I smiled when I spotted her in pink and green pajamas as she curled up on the sofa with a large glass of red wine and her e-reader.

Damn woman needed to invest in blinds. How was it that in this day age anybody, let alone a woman, could relax in their home without shielding themselves from the outside world?

I’d have to have a talk with her. At least I would when I figured out how.

What the hell could I say to her that wouldn’t make me sound like a creepy stalker?

I had to do something, dammit. I’d spent the past few nights watching her watcher.

After I spooked him the first time, I’d been in two minds about jumping the asshole.

But there was something in his manner that was too cocky, too confident, and I wondered exactly how he knew her.

So instead of beating his sorry ass, I decided I needed to find out more about him.

I managed to get a few profile shots of the asshole, but he knew what he was doing, managing to mostly stay in the shadows. Slate had the photos and was using them to try to identify him. He was comfortable watching her, confident that he wouldn’t be noticed.

Why?

We didn’t know each other well, yet, but she hadn’t mentioned anything about an ex-boyfriend or lover.

I needed to dig deeper and find out who this guy was before he found his balls and did something more than watch her.

I’d considered asking Slate to do a deep dive on her, but that seemed like an invasion of her privacy.

And standing night after night watching her wasn’t?

That asshole devil on my shoulder taunted.

He was right, that little red fucker. I needed to do something.

I needed to be proactive about keeping her safe.

There was no way to admit to her that someone had been watching and following her without admitting that I was doing the same.

I watched Sinclair for hours while she read the book, smiling at times and swiping tears during others.

It was a goddamn show, watching this woman get so consumed by a story that she lost all track of time.

Eventually, the yawns took over and she put the e-reader down, rinsed out the wine glass, and turned out the lights.

Seconds later the light came on in what I assumed was her bedroom.

Curiosity burned about what her bedroom looked like.

Was it pink and frilly like a little girl’s, or was it decorated in bold, jewel-toned colors like a mature, sensual woman?

Did she sleep in lingerie or were those pink and green pajamas how she went to bed?

Better yet, did she sleep in nothing at all?

I wanted to know.

Fuck that, I needed to know.

When I left her house that night, my thoughts were dominated by Sinclair and the need to have her, to protect her.

To keep her close.

I needed a decent plan, dammit, and I needed it yesterday.