Page 2 of Mercenary Daddy’s Girl (Daddy’s Girl #9)

GHOST

H er scent still lingers in the room, flooding my nose, lungs, and brain with sick yearning. My fists clench at my sides while I storm toward the window from which she leaped. Not out of anger for letting her go, nor the incompetence of Don Bernal’s men for having someone slip under our radar.

It's the raw, ravenous hunger she draws out of me. Knowing I must stay here and see my work through, when all I want to do is jump into the dirt and chase her into the night.

And that fucking whimper.

The broken sound of defeat for a fight that hadn’t even started. But even though it left her weak, I can’t stop hearing it. Over and over, while my mind races in panic.

God, never let it stop. Keep it on repeat. Now, while I watch her like some voyeuristic monster obscured from view, and again when she’s dripping over my cock and being ruined for every other man alive.

My entire world came undone the second I saw her cowering behind those boxes.

Wide-eyed and trembling like a doe in headlights while she looked up at me.

Christ, she was staring like her body had made a decision her mind hadn’t caught up with.

Begging to be taken, right here, right now. Claimed. Owned.

Mine.

I wonder what it says about me, seeing her scared while my cock throbbed so violently against my thigh. How could it not when her perfection was within reach? So close I could grab her, feel her soft skin against my fingertips, bend her over and…

We haven’t spoken a word to each other, and my fate is sealed.

I shut the spotless window and watch her through it far longer than I should.

Entranced by her beauty, I can’t look away.

Especially now, as she slinks through the backyard with messy golden curls bouncing down her back from every step she takes.

Better still, the view of her round ass squeezed into those tight black pants.

Suffocatingly tight and stretched to the seams, leaving me no need to imagine what’s underneath.

Begging for my mouth to mark her where no one else ever will.

I only regain control of myself when she disappears out of view. And even now, I realize, it’s a very loose definition of control.

“Everybody out,” I bark, just loud enough for Rico and Tony to hear me from the other room. I work better alone. Always have. Fewer distractions mean fewer fuck ups.

And I need all the help I can get when she’s floating through my mind and clouding my judgment.

“So, you’re the guy?” a voice asks from behind.

I spin around to find Rico Alverez standing in the doorway, cross-armed and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. I ignore him. My order was clear, concise—two simple words even he should understand .

He moves when I try to pass, but I’m sure it comes with a funny face from my disrespect.

Stepping into the master bedroom, Eduardo and Loraine lie peacefully on the ground. Clean shots, quick work, they wouldn’t have suffered. That’s a small victory I’d never share with the others. I pull out my phone and start the recorder, going over the scene and what needs to be replaced.

I did a sweep a few nights back, going over the layout, how the picture frames were placed, and their contents. With all the right friends in all the wrong places, finding suitable replacements for the furniture was easy enough.

“Mounted TV, stained. Needs replacing. Landline on Eduardo’s side stopped the bullet. Loraine’s dog-eared romance novel, splattered. Mattress soaked through with blood. Full replacement—” I continue going over the entire room until everything is covered.

Because these details matter in my line of work. Doing my job right erases our visit. No sign or trace that anyone other than the Vasquez family was here.

And her, of course.

Whoever she may be.

After my inspection, I get to work. Hours of packing, scrubbing, and moving furniture until the room is spotless. By the time it’s done, with the bloodstained bed and Loraine’s body loaded in my van, being ghosts in the wind is almost exactly how things play out.

Almost.

Just need to wait for someone in my crew to bring replacement furniture, and we’ll be?—

“What the fuck do you want?” My good mood from a job well done is ruined by the sight of Rico leaning against my van while I try to make my final delivery of Eduardo Vasquez .

“Saw someone on the street while you were busy. Too dressed up for a late-night run.”

I stop dead in my tracks, blood boiling over. It’s easy to hide with Eduardo weighing down on me.

“And?” I bite back my aggression behind a grunt while lowering Eduardo’s body beside his wife.

His beady eyes bulge with confusion. “Could be trouble.” Rico saw her. That’s reason enough for punishment. If he keeps talking, it’s gonna get a whole lot worse for him. “What if she saw or hear?—”

“She didn’t.”

“How can you know that?” Rico’s posture shifts aggressively.

That’s it, big boy, make your move. I dug their grave deep enough for three.

“It’s been hours. We’d be swarmed by cops if she did.” Which makes me wonder why we aren’t. Is her silence out of fear, or is she too smart to get the cops involved in our bad business? “Besides, Don Bernal won’t like you causing a scene with a civilian. We don’t need another mess to clean.”

“Ghost’s right,” Tony chips in. “We’ve got enough trouble on our hands.”

I slam the van’s sliding door shut and turn toward Rico lazily. At least one of them has some common sense.

“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Like wearing that mask makes you special.” He kicks off the van, baring his teeth at me.

“It doesn’t.” The mask doesn’t make me anything. But I am the best in the business, and everyone knows it.

“Why am I even asking you? You don’t call the shots.” Rico shakes his head .

I don’t respond. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Because my mind’s already drifting back to her. The girl with terror in her eyes who couldn’t even muster a scream when she saw me. The nameless beauty who turned me into a mess. Her eyes burning into mine, seeing something that isn’t there.

Not the monster I am.

But, her savior.

A set of headlights pulling up to us breaks the tension. Rico and Tony reach for their pistols until they notice it’s one of my guys delivering the new furniture.

“Go back to your car and shut the fuck up.” I smirk behind the mask. “We’re almost done here.”

An hour later, with the Vasquez residence returned to its previous state and the remnants of the mob’s crime buried, I step into Don Hernando Bernal’s office.

He’s lounging in a dark leather chair and rolling a fat cigar between his fingers. But it’s the beaming smile on his face that unsettles me more than anything.

Rico and Tony got here before me, and they’re opposite him in the guest chairs. Tony doesn’t bother looking, but Rico makes it a point to size me up over his shoulder.

“Done?” Hernando asks.

I nod.

“Excellent. I knew I could count on you.” He slides an envelope across the desk, and as I look down, I notice the bulge in my pants. Fuck. Hours later, and my cock’s still solid. Not even getting knee deep in Eduardo’s grey matter could wipe her out of my head.

Down boy, we’re not letting her get far. Just need to finish our business first .

“As always, it’s been a pleasure.” I barely glance at the cash before I pocket it. No point dragging a meeting out with anyone in this room.

We can all walk away satisfie?—

“I saw a girl outside while the Ghost was cleaning,” Rico says, just as I turn to leave.

My jaw locks down so tight it feels like my teeth are about to shatter.

“She isn’t important.” A lie that feels wrong to tell. She’s more than important. She’s everything. “A passer-by being blown out of proportion.”

Not my usual kind of outburst in front of a Don, but I need to get the bloodhounds off her trail.

“A passer-by?” Hernando chews on the end of his cigar, eyebrows waggling curiously.

“Yes. Not a threat.” Of this, there’s no concern. By looks alone, she couldn’t hurt a fly.

“We can’t risk any loose ends, Ghost. You know that.” Hernando’s jolly tone makes me want to launch over the table and tear his chubby cheeks off. “But don’t worry, we’ll handle this in-house. Your work is done.”

Fuck. It’s bad enough I’m the one who sent her off, but I can’t let Hernando send his dogs after her.

“You paid me to clean up, so I’ll clean up,” I say calmly. Too calm. Battling against every instinct to snap.

“Are you sure?” Hernando looks puzzled.

“Yeah,” I growl. “She’s min—” I stop. Too close to overplaying my hand. “My responsibility.”

He doesn’t ask what I mean, and it’s for the best.

I don’t want to become the cartel’s number one target.

Twenty-four hours.

I’m slipping.

I should’ve had her in my arms last night, but with the shitty resolution on Eduardo’s security cameras, it’s a miracle my tech guy found her at all. But times like these remind me why I work with him. He’s the best tracker in the business, and I only work with the best.

But now that I’m pulling up to the dilapidated house, more akin to a shack than a castle for a princess, I feel … odd. Almost uncomfortable. As if this isn’t a measure to protect her, but to take her on a damned date.

Keep it together, man.

First things first, get her out of here. Don Bernal might be satisfied with me handling this, but Rico? He’d shoot his own mother if it meant getting one over on the Ghost.

I stop my car on the gravel driveway and watch for a moment.

Shadows dance behind the drawn curtains, but I’m not surprised to see another inside.

From the intel we gathered, the house belongs to her mother.

Suppose I should’ve put more thought into what I was going to say before I got here.

How I was going to whisk her away without raising suspicion.

I’ll just have to come up with something on the spot because this can’t wait.

Christ, what the fuck’s wrong with me?

I’m not here to talk.

I’m here to take.

And nothing’s going to stop me.