Ruled by her Daddies (Harem of Daddies)

“She’s wearing it in almost every photo I’ve seen of her,” Wolfe told them. “And I know where she is because I put a tracking device in it.”

“You did what? Why?” Aleki asked

Wolfe shrugged. “She was important to you. I turned it off after she left, wasn’t sure it would still work. Signal goes in and out. Can’t tell you anything more other than she’s in San Francisco. Hoping it will get better when we’re closer to her.”

Fuck it.

“Fine. When the fuck do we leave?” he snapped.

* * *

Keep moving, Vivi.

Get up, baby girl.

Don’t sit there, Genevieve. It’s filthy and you’ll get some nasty disease and die.

Her dry, cracked lips formed a smile at the last thought. That was exactly something Wolfe would say.

If only she had the energy to keep going. She hadn’t eaten in days. She’d found a dollar in her backpack, which she’d thankfully been wearing when that asshole chased and shot at her, and she’d used it to buy a chocolate bar. Best damn chocolate she’d ever eaten. But it was gone now too. She’d been getting water from public restrooms, but today when she’d tried to move, her legs just wouldn’t hold her.

She was not going to die in this alley. Alone. Filthy. Starving. A sob broke out of her mouth.

Stop it, Vivi. You can do this.

Baby, just hold on.

Do not cry. You don’t have the fluids to spare.

She huffed out a laugh. Even after eight years apart it was still the three of them that she thought of. Had she made no other friends? Did she have no one else she could rely on?

No.

There was Uncle Ben. But getting in touch with him meant risking that he’d tell her father where she was. Plus, she didn’t want to put him in any danger. Whoever shot her was likely still trying to find her.

She couldn’t figure ou

t how they’d known where she was. Where had William’s contact gotten to? Had that been the man who’d turned up while she was running? What had happened to him?

She was screwed.

So now she was hiding behind a dumpster in an alleyway. She had nothing. Her handbag was back in that basement where she’d dropped it. She’d thought about going back to see if it was still there, but she was worried that someone would be waiting for her.

She’d cleaned her injured arm as best she could. Thankfully, the bullet had just grazed her. The injury wasn’t pretty, and she figured it probably needed stitches.

Maybe she should have gone to the police. But how did she know who to trust? William had told her that her father had plenty of cops in his pocket. She didn’t know how, but she believed him.

She shivered. It was cold in the alley and yet her skin was coated in sweat. Her vision was blurry, her breathing labored.

Opening the backpack, she pulled out Piggles. The stuffed pig had seen better days, but she buried her face in the soft fluff. Piggles was the last thing her mama had given her. He’d always been her favorite toy. She started to sing. Making up silly rhymes was something she did when she was scared.

“Piggles, we’re on our own. Piggles, we’re all alone. Piggles, I’m scared, are you? Piggles, what are we going to do?”

Her arm had stopped throbbing. She wasn’t sure that was a good sign or if it was her body shutting down. It wasn’t like she was in the best health to begin with. Over the past couple of years, she’d lost so much weight that she barely recognized herself when she looked in the mirror.

She was a stranger.

The last time she’d taken a look at her ankle it was nearly three times its normal size. She’d had to remove her sneaker and then she’d been unable to put it back on. So now she had one sneaker on. She had her only spare T-shirt wrapped around her injured arm.