Page 47 of Vow to Protect
A mountain of plush toys gather on the bed where I locate a set of small toes. “Tilly?” I whisper, bobbing my head out of the door to check the corridor. When I turn back, I witness the prettiest bouncy curls tumble over slender shoulders and big wide eyes holding me accountable for her life. Holy shit. It’s my sister's beautiful child. Recognition squeezes my heart. “Hi, Tilly.” I offer her a smile, but her forehead wrinkles.
“Why are those men making Gretten cry?” She chews her lip. “I’m scared.”
Pages torn from an artist’s pad scatter across the floor, and disorderly colouring pens look abandoned. “Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.” I lie, then jam the door closed behind me. “Wow, look at these pictures.” Cautiously, I move into the room and hunker down. “Is this a dog?” I ask, staring at the brown, four-legged creature with a long snout.
“Yes, it’s Champ,” Tilly replies, shuffling a little closer. “We dropped him at the doggy spa. My Daddy said Champ is only allowed to sleep in my bed if he gets washed every week.”
“And rightly so.” I laugh lightly. “You have a wonderful eye for detail.” The use of varying colours and shades is quite advanced for a child, or maybe I’m biased.
My phrase raises a shy smile, which is wiped away by an explosive smash rattling from the opposite side of the apartment. Her cheeks pale. “Why do you sound like my mummy?”
How the hell do I answer that? Does she even know her mother is dead? “Your mom and I were very close a long time ago,” I say in a gust. “Tilly, I need you to tell me if there's another exit close by.” The window blind is lowered. I dash closer and pull the cord. A deadly drop below rules out any plan of escaping to a rooftop.
“Only the front door. Who are you?” Tilly backs into the wall, scrunching tiny hands. “I want my Daddy,” she whimpers.
“Your Daddy is on his way. For now, you need to trust me.” I have to trust myself to find a way out of this. The only exit is back through the hallway.
Male voices rumble. “You think I sound like your mother?” Watery brown eyes beg for answers. Heavy footsteps tread the layout further down the hall. My heartbeat elevates to the worst tempo of fear. The bastards can torture me, but they’ll only get to this beautiful child over my dead body. “Well, that's because she sent me here to protect you from the bad men.” I rush out the words, jittery and determined to find an escape.
My gaze cuts to her wilted complexion. “Did she?” Little toes wiggle in the lavender fibers beneath her feet. “Bad men?”
“Bad men,” I repeat, finding my appearance in her vanity mirror. The golden tan on my cheeks has mellowed to milky mocha and a sallow shade of stress lies beneath my stern set eyes. An unshapely dreary hoodie hides any resemblance of a female figure. I’m insignificant, like I’ve been my entire life.
“My Daddy taught me how to punch,” she says with a brave waggle of a small fist. The corners of her dainty mouth waiver. “He said to always be one step ahead of the enemy. That’s why I hid under my dolls, they’ll never find us there.” Such innocence kissed with courage. Her shoulders lower as she tries to speak ever so quietly. Without a second thought, she hurries to her bed like her feet have velvet soles. “You can hide with me.” Tilly wrinkles her nose and crooks her petite hand in such a gentle, caring manner. The glint in her eyes is born from her father. I recognise his soul tangled with hers.
Tilly’s plan has merit. If the assholes weren’t older and ruthless. The sound of a glass object shattering into zillions of fragments startles both of us. A door slams. Footsteps grow louder, now only seconds away. The world carries on regardless, oblivious to our imminent danger. Inside this child’s bedroom time stops for a fraction of a second. My thoughts still.
A life-size unicorn slumped at the foot of her bed is big enough to house one small child. “I have a plan.” Kneeling down beside the gigantic beast, I glide my fingers over its belly.
“Uncle Kaleb bought me Dazzle,” she whispers. Soft curls dangle over her face as she builds a wall of the smaller toys.
“He’s bigger than you are,” I say with a hushed tone, working quickly to pluck at the seam. “Do you have craft scissors?” A door handle rattles further down the hall.
Tilly slides off the bed, pads to a colourful box on the floor and extracts what could only be described as blunt scissors. Holy fuck, he bought her child safety scissors. “Any hair clips?” My hair whips across my chin when I glance back to the dressing table. “Those ones.” I nod to the thin wire bobby pins. She slides them off the surface and drops them into my palm. “We work well together.” I smile tightly, then burrow the pin into the unicorn’s gut and rip the tight thread. It comes apart and the fuzzy innards push outwards. Tilly bites her nails, staring at the door as the apartment falls into silence. I create a hole big enough for a kid to clamber inside and drag out the padding. Then I discard the evidence under the bed.
“Quick,” I prompt.
She blinks in a flurry of confusion. As she huddles up like a fetus in the belly of Dazzle, I scrape the dark locks away from her face. “You won’t fit in here?”
“This is for you. I’ll find somewhere else.” I wink and force a smile.
A phone beeps. A husky voice answers. Dexter is outside the door now. “In the apartment now. I’ll bring the kid straight to you when we get her.”
In a flash I reposition some fluffy filling, packing Tilly in. I rise to see her face peeking out from the long neck. Swivelling around, I grab her earphones that are attached to her iPod. Dexter finishes his call. I turn on the music and stroke the tip of her nose. “Don't be scared, little one. Don’t make a sound. Don't get out of Dazzle until your Daddy gets here. Anddon'tturn off the music. Got it?” Tilly blinks wildly. “Keeping you safe is all that matters now. It was never about me. It was about you all this time. I understand that now.” I press my lips to her porcelain forehead and gulp down the emotion sticking in my throat.
I pull the gaping sides together and stuff a few of the bobby pins through the material, roughly closing the space. Then, I shove the earphones over her ears and heave the unicorn around to face the clouds skimming across the wall. The handle on the door opposite lowers. My pulse slams as I scurry away from the secret hiding place and freeze with nowhere to hide.
The door flings open. Narrow eyes locate me instantly. “What do we have here?” Dexter chuckles. “Where’s the kid?”
My fingers curl closed to hide the obvious shake. “She’s with her dog.” I’m outnumbered.
“And where is that?” Dexter strides into the room, tapping his trouser pocket. He casually glances at each corner, checking back with me after each one.
“Doggy day spa.” I edge backward to the bed, closer to the heap of soft toys. “If you’re looking for the kid, she’s not here. I’m waiting for her to come back.”
He strolls to the dresser, gathers a bubblegum pink hairbrush and stares at it. “Why?” he asks. “Why areyouhere?”
“He bought me,” I lie, thankful Tilly is listening to music. “Those delightful bastards that Blaine happily handed me to, stripped me, drugged me and threw me into a cell,” I snarl. “When I came around, I was in a room with a bed and a fucking lock on the door. And guess what?” Dexter hitches his brow, barely interested in my tale. “The rich asshole who lives here said heboughtme.” My story mimics truth with a safety net of protection for Brett. “Apparently, I’m his now.”
