“No shower. I’ll give you a quick sponge bath and get you dressed.”
She sighed but let him fuss. And by the time she was dressed in clean trackpants, a camisole and a cardigan that hung off her injured shoulder, she was exhausted.
Spike held her shoulders, studying her intently. “How are your pain levels? Is your migraine completely gone? Feeling dizzy? Hungry? Thirsty?”
She placed her good hand over his mouth. “Spike.” Enough procrastinating.
He nodded. “Right. But before I tell you though, you’re going to eat and take some painkillers.” He carried her downstairs and had her lie on the sofa with a pillow at her back and a blanket over her legs as he heated up some soup. Mr. Fluffy managed to rouse himself enough to toddle over to her for a cuddle before settling in at her feet. A fresh bottle of fairy juice was placed on the floor by the sofa. Then Spike pulled the coffee table closer and sat on it. He spooned up some soup, blowing on it and held it out for her.
“I can feed myself.”
“Nope. Daddy will feed you. I need to. Please.”
There was a flash of pain in his eyes and she knew that her being shot was going to haunt him for a long time.
Maybe forever.
This connection between them was something special, maybe something that some people never experienced in a lifetime.
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Good girl.” He proceeded to feed her, checking every mouthful to ensure it wasn’t too hot. His caring almost brought tears to her eyes again and she had to take a deep breath after he finished and left to grab her pain pills. What was wrong with her? Her emotions were bubbling just beneath the surface.
Where had her control gone?
After taking the pills he handed her, she settled back into the sofa while he sat by her legs, facing her. “Good? Too hot? Too cold?”
“Spike just tell me. It can’t be . . . it can’t be worse than not knowing, surely?”
He glanced away from her and she braced herself.
“I’m going to start a bit further back so you understand how I know this. See, before Reyes was the President of the Iron Shadows, we had this asshole called Smiley. He started laundering money through the bar, got us mixed up with some bad characters. Reyes came along and got rid of Smiley. But by then it was too late, the bar was in the red and we were in deep with the Bartolli family.”
“Bartolli? I’ve heard that name.”
“Yeah, Luther is connected to them. He married Fergus Bartolli’s niece. Fergus was the head of the family. Asshole man. Involved in human trafficking, drugs, guns. Anyway, Reyes was trying to put the bar in the black and made some deals with the wrong people. Bartolli had us over a barrel. He got us to blackmail US Senator Jonathan Robins.”
“Whoa,” she stated. “What was the blackmail over? Wait, wasn’t
the senator murdered? Didn’t he have some young girl in his cabin?”
He scowled. “Yep. Robins was scum. He bought young women from Luther’s old man, raped and murdered them. Bartolli gave us photo evidence to use. We handled retrieving the cash and dropping it to Bartolli. You gotta know, none of us wanted to do it. We started watching the senator, trying to work out where he was hiding the girl in the photos so we could rescue her.”
“Did you find her?”
He sighed. “No. Not in time.” He grimaced. “Baby doll, the girl in the photos, it was Daria.”
“No,” she whispered. “It . . . it what? How can that be? The police . . .”
“They never knew about her connection to the senator. Although if they did their job better, they might have worked it out. We think the senator’s father probably has connections with the cops and got things pushed under the rug.”
“Oh God. Oh God.”
“I’m so sorry.” He reached for her hand and she drew it back. She just couldn’t be touched right then.
A flash of hurt crossed his face but she was too deeply in shock to say anything to soothe him. It wasn’t him. It was just . . . Daria. Oh God, Daria.
A sob broke free.