“Quite the attitude for an eight-year-old,” he teased knowing full well she was ten.
“I beg your pardon! I’m ten, not eight.”
“Whatever you say, Deedee.”
“Deedee?” she asked.
“You look more like a Deedee than a Deidre. Suits you better,” he explained.
She seemed to ponder that while showing the way to her room. Which was on the other side of the monstrosity they called a home. She was alone on this side. Unprotected and vulnerable. He had a feeling Bradshaw didn’t care much for her and only tolerated her because it tormented her mother.
“So what’s the deal with dear old dad?” he asked her as they arrived at her room, and she went straight to the bathroom. Lifting her onto the counter, he grabbed a cloth, turning the cold water on and wet it, then placed it on her cheek where swelling had already started.
“He’s a stupid jerk,” she mumbled.
“Kind of knew that already. What’s up his ass today, though?”
“He hates me mam and doesn’t want to let me see her on me birthday.”
“That so. When’s your birthday?”
“This Saturday. I’ll be eleven years old, and Mam wants to take me to the carnival. But Da’s not letting me go.” She cried silently.
He didn’t know what to do with crying women at any time, let alone what to do with a crying little girl. Awkwardly patting her back, he muttered inconsequential things to her knowing what he said would never make a difference to how she felt anyways.
“You can go now,” she whispered. “I’m sure Da needs protecting from his stupidity.”
The seriousness in her tone had him laughing out loud. The sad part was, she was probably right. The man was a fucking moron that needed saving from himself. Too bad Dom was going to be the man to ruin him; and hopefully, send this girl back to her mother.
*****
Six months later
“But Dooommm, please, just for a little while?” The hopeful lilt to Dee’s voice almost had him caving to take her to the mall with her friends, but he needed her at home where she’d be safe. Away from anything that could possibly harm her.
Over the past six months, since the day her father had hit her over her birthday, he’d been assigned her bodyguard. Which for a ten-year-old girl pretty much meant confidante, slave, bag carrier, and taxi. He didn’t mind. She was a good kid in need of someone to show her she wasn’t just for show when called upon. That she was, in fact, a person. Someone who had quite a bit to contribute to the world. So that’s what he’d been doing.
Unfortunately, today was going to be his only chance to take Bradshaw out and get away unknown. The boss had a meeting that evening with some new “clients” and said he wanted Dom there...Only Dom. He should have been suspicious, but he’d been around long enough to be prepared for anything. Scoping out the building and planning an exit strategy for any and all contingencies had already been taken care of, so in short, he was ready.
The one part of his plan he didn’t like was that he wouldn’t be coming back, which meant Dee was essentially on her own. Once he returned to England for his debriefing, he planned on calling her mother anonymously, so she knew her daughter needed her. But there would be a delay, and that worried him.
“Deidre!” he barked, needing her to understand she was not going with her friends. “You’re to stay here this evening. I have more important things to do than be your chauffeur.”
Tears welled in her eyes immediately, making him feel like shit. Nonetheless, he needed her to be mad at him, so when he didn’t come back, it would hurt her less.
She flew up the stairs to her room, slamming the door behind her. “I’ll see ya, kid,” he whispered before going to meet Bradshaw in his study. Back to where it all began.
*****
Dom stood outside the abandoned warehouse waiting for Bradshaw to finish whatever business he was conducting. He never cared about the specifics so long as he didn’t have to get his hands too dirty for the scum bag.
It was dark, and they were on the outskirts of Dublin where it seemed civilization had abandoned ship. Only, he knew better. This was where the seedy underworld held its business—in the confines of darkness and under the guise of passing through.
A light breeze carried traces of their conversation to his ears and what he heard he did not like. “Where’s the girl?” An angry voice asked Bradshaw.
Creeping around the side of the building, he pulled out his Glock primed to kill if they were talking about who he thought they were.
“She’s home being prepared to leave for Switzerland as we speak. You’ll have to take her from there. I don’t fucking care anymore. She’s more trouble than she was ever worth,” Bradshaw spit out.