The Executioner (Professionals 10)

She had her father’s bright blue eyes but my jet-black hair. Her skin was somewhere between the two of us, giving her a slight tan at all times. Like the both of us, she was tall and lean.

And, again, like me, she’d turned up her nose at most girly things. Which meant she had on creepers sneakers along with the black and white plaid skirt and black sweater. She hated the uniform with a fiery passion. I couldn’t blame her. I remembered those days as well.

She got dress-coded on those shoes at least twice a month.

But since we paid so much for her to go to the school, there were no real consequences aside from a damn written essay they demanded she hand in. They usually didn’t even ask for that anymore since she’d always sent them a damn dissertation on why dress-coding was an inherently sexist practice.

“Mom,” Maldi said, rolling her heavily lined eyes. “Dad.”

“Hey pumpkin,” Bellamy said, giving her a smile.

“This is hardly the time for pleasantries,” Dr. Jones declared, frowning at our family unit from behind his desk that in no way was trying to make up for having a small dick or anything.

“What happened?” I asked, cutting to the chase.

“Your daughter broke another student’s nose today.”

“Did she now?” Bellamy asked, rocking back on his heels. “What did he do?”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Jones grumbled.

“Listen, Dr. Jones,” I said, exhaling hard. “Maldi knows the rules. She can only use her fists if someone deserves it. So what did the little spoiled rotten shithead do?” I asked.

I got the parental satisfaction of watching my daughter’s eyes light up as I stood up to a grown-ass bully.

“He asked me if my black lipstick would come off on his dick when I sucked it,” Maldi explained.

“Language!” Dr. Jones exclaimed, damn near clutching his fucking pearls.

“Language? Are you fucking serious?” I asked. “Her language is the problem, but the little future sex offender’s language was fine?”

“That is hearsay,” Dr. Jones insisted.

“Expel that kid or you can kiss the new library goodbye, Dr. Jones,” Bellamy said, voice harsh.

“I hardly think—“

“You heard me,” Bellamy cut him off. “Come on, pumpkin,” he said, holding an arm out until Maldi got up and moved in at his side. “Let’s go get you some ice cream,” he said.

Maldi rushed out ahead of us when we got outside, and Bellamy and I slowed our pace as we watched her.

“That fucker turns eighteen and he hasn’t outgrown this shit,” Bellamy said, cursing up a storm because he was truly pissed, “you and I might have to come out of retirement and handle it.”

“Bob was just saying that he needs some new fertilizer for the ground around the cabin,” I said, leaning my head into his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around me. “But I think our girl will make sure to beat that bad behavior out of that little asshole.”

“She’s all you,” Bellamy said, shaking his head.

“Ugh, you didn’t bring the Rolls?” Maldi grumbled, making a laugh escape me.

“And there’s you in there too,” I said, laughing.

“Instead of ice cream,” Maldi said. “Can we go to Italy for gelato?”

“Don’t you—“ I started.

But this was Bellamy we were talking about.

Of course he dared.

So we went to fucking Italy for gelato.

And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.