Page 12 of Mercenary Daddy’s Girl (Daddy’s Girl #9)

GEMMA

M y eyes open to Ghost, tall, masked, and looming in the doorway.

“I won’t be out long,” he says. “This will be over when I get back.”

My wake-up confusion gives way to fear when his words hit my ear. I remember that this isn’t another night in paradise with us happy as can be. Instead, it’s my nightmares becoming a reality.

“Where are you going?” My heart flutters in my chest from the fear creeping in.

“Don’t worry, little Gem. I won’t be far. You won’t have to face anything alone.”

I understand he has to do this. That staying in this bed and holding me isn’t going to get results, but what if something happens while he’s out? Or worse, something happens to him wherever he ends up.

I’ll have no way of knowing. I wouldn’t be able to help.

And I can’t picture a life without him in it .

“I want you to wait in the office. Inside the top drawer, you’ll find a loaded revolver,” Ghost says blankly.

Giving instructions like he’s talking to a secretary rather than playing with life and death.

“You’re gonna take it out, keep it on your lap, and wait.

If someone comes inside and it isn’t me, you’re going to point your gun at the office door.

Hold it there until you see any movement. ”

With the mask on, it’s his eyes that carry the burden of this instruction. Soft and tortured, they stare down at me. Inspect my features to ensure his message is coming across.

“When you do, you’re going to squeeze the trigger. Again and again until the banging stops. Do you understand?”

“I do.” It’s real now. The terror I felt in the car ride home pales in comparison to this.

No going back and no chance for peace.

“I’ll see you soon, little Gem.” Ghost leaves.

I follow close behind to get to his office and do as he said. Sitting cross-legged in his wingback leather seat, with the cold steel revolver on my lap. Playing his words on repeat as if there’s a chance I might forget what to do.

I don’t have to wait long for a knock to come at the front door. A hopeful part of me wants to believe it’s Ghost. Knocking before entry so I don’t shoot him by accident. But my dreams are dashed when I hear that all-too-familiar voice again.

“Room service.” He’s here, and Ghost isn’t. Here to finish the job he set out to do at the Vasquez residence. “I know you’re in there, so let’s skip the hard parts and get down to business.”

I raise my gun to the door before they’ve even entered. But for a long while after his first attempt at contact, a long silence follows. Waiting for me to come to the door and open up. Give him what he wants without putting up a fight .

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” Even while screaming loud enough for me to hear, he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds thrilled. Getting a ton of sick enjoyment out of the mental anguish he’s causing. “Or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow these walls down.”

His storybook teasing is followed by a bang against the door. Then another. Until finally, it smashes open, and I can hear him clearer.

“You two, circle round the place. Make sure the Ghost isn’t around.” Affirmation comes from his men. “You, with me. We’re not fucking this one up again.”

Then footsteps. Slow, drawn-out echoes through the otherwise quiet house. My pulse slams in my ears with every step. Waiting to see movement in the doorway. To squeeze the trigger until it’s empty.

But when it finally happens, and he steps into view, I freeze.

Just do it. Pull the trigger. End this.

I can’t.

“Woah now.” He lifts his hands in the air in mock surrender. But the wicked grin on his face never fades. Like he’s ready to tank the bullets as long as it means he can get to me. “There’s no need for all this.”

“I’ll do it.” My words carry no conviction. Even in this him-or-me moment, I don’t have the nerve to shoot. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Then do it,” he says, moving one of his hands over his heart. “Right here. And don’t miss.”

He defies my order and steps into the office while talking. Knowing I don’t have it in me.

“That’s what I thought.” He shakes his head. “Kids these days. They don’t have the backbone to do what it takes.”

My mouth opens and shuts to say something. Anything. Plead a case and fight for my life. But nothing comes out .

He stops walking when he’s opposite me at the desk. His hands fall to his sides, and he crooks his head to the side while his eyes glance over my body.

“So, you’re Ghost’s plaything? Gotta hand it to him. He’s got good taste.” He clears his throat, and his face melts into a look of utter mortification. “Oh shit, where are my manners? I’m Rico. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

His playful delivery chills me to the bone. Ah, who am I kidding? Everything he says makes my skin crawl.

“Mind putting the gun down? So, you and I can have a cha?—"

“Hey, fuckface.” Ghost’s voice booms out of nowhere.

Before I can make sense of what’s happening, Ghost’s on top of him.

Vicious fists being thrown from all sides.

They tumble to the floor, the onslaught continuing.

So much seems to happen, but it’s over as fast as it begins.

Rico’s eyes pointed at the ceiling, with Ghost coiled around him like a snake.

Legs hooked around his midsection, arms around his throat.

“You can’t do this. Don Bernal won’t stop coming for you,” Rico chokes out.

“Then you can tell him I say hi when you see him in hell.” As fucked up as it sounds, there’s something incredibly comforting about hearing Ghost throw out a cheesy one-liner in the middle of this altercation.

“You’ve made your point.” Rico struggles in Ghost’s arms. “I’ll sto?—”

“Look away, Gemma.” The chilling calm in Ghost’s voice both terrifies and excites me. “I don’t want you to see this.”

Ghost flexes his arm, tightening the ironclad grip around Rico’s throat .

I follow his order and avert my eyes, shutting them tight, and shove my fingers in my ears to block out Rico’s choked sputters. I stay like this until I feel a tap on my shoulder.

Ghost helps me out of the chair, but every action he takes shields me from what he left on the floor. He tucks my head against his side, one hand shielding my eyes while the other cradles me close.

“I couldn’t do it,” I whisper against his side.

“And I’m glad you didn’t,” he says.

“Wait, there are more guys outsi?—”

“It’s over, Gemma,” he cuts me off. “You never have to think about this again.”

My fingers tremble as I wrap my arms around his waist. He leads me blindly through the safe house and into the cool night air.

It’s over plays on repeat in my head.

Because with this horrible chapter finally closing, our lives together can begin.