Page 4 of Protect Me Daddy

Just a few more blocks, I told myself. Almost home.

The sound of heavy footsteps behind me made me freeze. No. Please, no.

"Told you to watch yourself, sweetheart!" Earl's drunken voice cut through the night like a knife.

I broke into a run, fumbling for my keys. How long had he been following me? How had I not noticed?

"Aw, don't be like that," Earl called, his words slurring together. "We just wanna have a little fun!"

We.

Oh god.

I risked a glance over my shoulder. Earl's hulking form was silhouetted against the dim glow of a distant neon sign. Two other figures flanked him.

My breath came in ragged gasps as I sprinted down the street. Home was so close. If I could just make it. . . .

But they were faster. Stronger. I heard them gaining on me with each pounding step.

I stumbled into the narrow alley, where my apartment was, and ran to my front door. Somehow I managed to drop my keys. I stooped to grab them but I heard them so close by. My stomach dropped as I looked up to face my pursuers.

Earl's eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger that chilled me to the bone. Gone was the drunken swagger from earlier—now his gaze was sharp, calculating. Dangerous. His two friends spread out, blocking any chance of slipping past.

"Think you're too good for me?" Earl's voice was low, menacing. "Nobody embarrasses me like that, sweetheart. Time to learn your place."

My fingers brushed against Dwight's business card in my pocket. I wished desperately that he was here, that I wasn't alone. But I was.

"Please," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. "Just let me go. I want to go home."

Earl's laugh was cruel. "Oh, we're way past that now. Don’t worry. We’ve got a whole new home for you. Somewhere where good-looking girls like you get treated like princesses."

A new home?

My heart pounded. Were they going to take me somewhere? Kidnap me?

As he reached for me, something inside me snapped. I wouldn't be a victim. Not again. Never again.

I lashed out, my nails raking across Earl's face. He howled in pain and surprise.

"You little bitch!" he snarled.

I kicked and thrashed, fighting with every ounce of strength I possessed. But one of Earl's friends grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. Pain lanced through my scalp.

Earl's fist rose, his eyes blazing with fury. I braced myself for the blow, wondering how I'd explain the bruises at work tomorrow. If I even made it to tomorrow.

"Let her go."

The voice was like a thunderclap, rumbling with authority and power.

Earl and his friends froze, all eyes turning to the tall, imposing figure who'd materialized at the mouth of the alley.

It was Dwight Brookes. He stood there, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He looked . . . powerful. He exuded an aura of confidence and strength that sent a shiver down my spine.

"I said, let her go."

This time, Dwight's voice left no room for interpretation. It was a command, laced with the promise of violence if disobeyed.

Earl and his friends shared a glance, weighing their options. The man holding my hair tightened his grip, as if to reassure himself of his control over me.

---