Page 135 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
DM4XX: That’s everything I need. I’m going to work on the meatspace side for a while. Thank you for your help.
Kinofoo: Anything for our Fairy Bee. We hear what you’re saying about how dangerous these assholes are, but we’re in. We’ll help you. We’ll hide you. We’ll burn these assholes down.
CenturyGirl: What Kin said.
DM4XX: Thank you.
I clear all my logs and cycle down my rig. The best way to prevent someone from breaching your online security? Turn your computer off. I jot that down on my phone for the next UncleM4xx security tip. I’ll admit I rarely follow my own advice, particularly because I have a lot of automated scripts that run at night. But now I have something more important that runs around at night, something I don’t ever want interrupted, so it’s time to get into the habit of powering down my system.
Cynnie’s disappeared while I’ve shut up shop. So has Ty, without even giving me a hug, the little shit. He’s getting a dozen noogies for that the next time I see him. I lock up, checking and double-checking my security. On the way back from checking the manual lock on the fire escape door, I find the dress Cynnie was wearing draped across the foot of the staircase up into the loft like a fallen flower petal.
“Baby?”
Her wild giggle answers me.
Grinning, I scoop up the dress and carry it up the stairs.
I expect her to be naked in the bed, but she’s not. There’s no sign of her.
“Baby, where are you?”
Another wild giggle. With the open plan of my apartment, the stairwell, and the screen of trees in the loft, the acoustics can be weird. I was sure the first giggle came from upstairs. Now, it sounds like her giggle is coming from downstairs.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, bumble baby,” I call.
Insane giggles. I spin around in place on the landing, trying to locate the source of those irresistible giggles.
“When I find you, I’m going to bite my bumble very hard on her bottom,” I growl.
“I sting you!”
That was definitely from my bedroom. I tear through the doorway and look around. No naughty bumble in my bed. I yank open the closet doors. No naughty bumble in my closets. There aren’t many hiding places in my bedroom. There’s no way she could fit between the trees.
Then I spot the black rectangle half-hidden in the rumpled bedding. A phone. She’s put it on speaker and dimmed the screen. That sneaky little bee.
I grab the phone and growl into it. “I’m going to find you.”
“I fly away!”
“You’ll never get away from me, little girl. And when I catch you, I’m going to eat you up.” I grip the phone, so turned on my hand shakes, muscles bunching. I pant into the phone. “I’m going to find you, wherever you are, and rail you into the ground.”
She squees. There’s a very faint echo, and I realize where she is.
I tear out of the bedroom and thunder down the stairs. Wild squeaking comes out of the phone and as I round the half-wall at the bottom of the stairs and a blur of golden skin and black hairstreaks by me. She races into the open area between the couches and TV, grabs the futon, and drags it onto the floor. She bounces on it like a boxer in a ring, sticks out her tongue, and blows a huge raspberry at me.
With a roar, I dive for her.
She squeals, giggling wildly. She tries to roll away from me, but I snag her around the waist, sink my hand in her hair, and pin her to the futon.
“Caught you,” I growl.
“No-no-no, can’t catch me. I sting you and fly away.” Sharp teeth sink into my shoulder.
“Ouch.” I haul her up to her knees and slap her ass. “Naughty bumble.”
She wiggles and squeals.
I throw her over my shoulder. I’m on my knees, on the futon, so there’s no risk of her getting hurt if she manages to squirm out of my grasp. I pepper those round ass cheeks with swats, until she’s moaning and the air’s heavy with saline and musk. Then I pry her legs apart and sink two fingers into her hot wetness.
