Daddy's Possessive Friend (Once Upon a Daddy Book 12)

by Kelli Callahan

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Leave her alone. If you call her again, there won’t be a body to bury. Got that, you bastard?” He growls his threat.

  “Yeah.” I exhale sharply. “I got it.”

  “Good. Now fuck off.” The phone goes dead.

  The rage of an angry father. Threats that probably aren’t idle. Lawson was a soldier just like me. He knows how to hunt. He knows how to kill. I don’t think he would breathe one ounce of remorse if he took my life right now.

  I let him hit me at the office, even though I could’ve defended myself. I welcomed it because I felt like I deserved it for putting myself in that situation—for putting Kiana and Lawson in that situation.

  If it comes down to fight or flight with my life on the line, I don’t know what I will do. I won’t lay down and die. That means one of us won’t be breathing when this is all over.

  Lawson might have been an asshole to his daughter her whole life, but there is a difference between a killer and a murderer. I won’t be able to live with myself if it comes down to him or me, and I preserve my own life by claiming his.

  That isn’t a war worth winning.

  I drink until I pass out, then I embrace the darkness where only my dreams can haunt me.

  I wake up feeling like shit, but it’s exactly what I deserve.

  It’s time for me to face the music at the office and try to repair the damage I’ve caused. I also have to face the reality of never holding Kiana in my arms again. If she went to her father, then she made a choice that had to hurt—the man who treated her like shit her whole life over the one who lied to her.

  Maybe blood is thicker than anything else, even love. Or maybe she was just living out a fantasy, and it meant less to her than I thought. Once it was shattered, there were no pieces left to be put back together.

  Every step I take is a memory of what we shared. If I close my eyes for a moment, I can imagine her still asleep beside me. If I walk into the bathroom, I can pretend I need to be quiet so that I don’t wake her up.

  Even the shower reminds me of her.

  I never imagined becoming some heartsick fool hung up on a woman. Damn it. This is a wound I’ll have to let time heal.

  Other wounds can be healed with apologetic words, and those are the ones I have to focus on now.

  I head to the office with my head aching from a hangover, and I don’t even bother with anything that could dull it. I need to feel that pain. Hell, physical pain is a lot better than the emotional one. I park my car, and the instant I step out a familiar face approaches—not one I want to see.

  “Bram Ward. We meet again.” It’s the thug from yesterday.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I’m agitated by his presence. The second time in two days.

  “Mr. Diaz wasn’t satisfied with the conversation you had with him yesterday.” He pushes his hands into his pockets. “I’m here to have a very different kind of conversation.”

  He pulls his hands out of his pockets, and I see brass knuckles on both fists. Yeah, this is about to get ugly. Not for me—for him.

  “You picked the wrong day to fuck with me.” I shake my head as I square up for a fight.

  He approaches, but he doesn’t swing. There’s anger in his eyes that wants to be unleashed, and I realize one second too late that he’s just a distraction. Two more guys approach—one on each side.

  Fight or flight. I won’t shed a tear of remorse for them. I might not be able to take all three, but I’ll make damn sure I take at least one of them with me on the way out. If this is how it ends, so be it.

  I lunge at the thug in front of me before the other two get to us. He takes a defensive stance, but he’s no match for my training. I take him down, strip a pair of brass knuckles off his fist, and hammer his face several times before the other two grab me.

  A quick throw sends the first one to put hands on me straight into the pavement. I spin to my feet and unleash a kick that catches the other one on the chin. Maybe three on one odds aren’t that bad.

  The guy I threw to the pavement starts to stand, so I turn and crush his jaw with a brass-knuckle punch. He’ll be eating through a straw for a few weeks—maybe longer. The guy I temporarily stunned with a kick recovers faster than I expected and grabs me from behind.

  He’s strong—fuck, much stronger than I expected. I try to break his bear-hug, but he squeezes me long enough for the thug who approached me first to collect himself. He’s bleeding from his head. I should have hit him harder—I should have ended him. I can’t fix that mistake now, and the result is a few hard punches in the gut before a stiff uppercut from his brass knuckles making my head spin.

  I’m fucked now. I twist out of the bear-hug and swing, but they’re wild ones. I get my receipt for the beating I gave the guy who approached, and he doesn’t pull a single punch. I’m getting hit or kicked from behind by the other one. The only solace I have is that the guy with the shattered jaw doesn’t seem to be getting up.

  But I’m going down, and it isn’t going to be pretty.

  If someone had told me that I was going to be beaten senseless at the office—twice in two days—I would have wondered what kind of company they worked for. I never expected it to happen at mine. I did everything I could to avoid violence after I left the military. I didn’t expect to get turned into a human punching bag.

  After I’m on the ground and get a few more punches along with plenty of kicks, I realize they aren’t trying to kill me. This is a message. I get it loud and clear, even before the thug that approached first grabs my hair and snarls into my ear.

  “Since you weren’t willing to make a new deal with Mr. Diaz, he decided to go ahead and set the terms on his own. Your debt better be paid by the end of the day tomorrow—or else we’ll finish what we started—and next time, I’ll bring more guys.” He slams my head into the ground for good measure after he’s done.

  If I wasn’t fucked before, I’m fucked now.

  Before I can figure out exactly how fucked I am, I need to figure out how I can stand.

  I don’t get that chance. The blood loss and shots to the head take their toll. I push with my hands to try to stand up, but I simply collapse.

  My head spins until the darkness drains all the light from my eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kiana

  Sleep feels like a punishment I’m forced to endure. It’s not restful and when I finally get my bearings, I’m angry at my mother for giving me something without telling me what it was first.

  I reach for my phone, but it’s not on the table beside me. That sends me into a panic that erases the fog clouding my brain. I throw the covers around, check under the pillows, and finally get down on the floor to see if it landed there. It’s nowhere to be seen.

  “What the hell…” I brush my hair out of my eyes and sigh heavily. “I know I had it when I went to bed.”

  In the other room, I can hear my parents talking. It actually sounds like the conversation is rather heated. I check my room one more time for my phone before giving up and heading toward their voices. If they are having a heated conversation, it’s probably about me, and I want to know what they’re saying.

  “Good morning, Kiana.” My mother smiles and abruptly cuts my father off mid-sentence. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “A little fuzzy this morning.” I blink a couple of times. “Have you seen my phone?”

  “It’s in the kitchen.” My father’s voice is flat. He may have ended the conversation he was having, but it’s clear he’s not in a great mood.

  “Why?” I glance toward the kitchen in confusion.

  “We charged it for you, sweetheart.” My mother gently pats my arm.

  “Ah…” I nod. “Thanks.”

  I walk to the kitchen and find my phone plugged into the wall. It is fully charged, which I appreciate, even if I don’t like the fact they took it from my room. I have to pick my battles here. I could lay into my mother for literally drugging me and for taking my
phone without asking, but that fighting isn’t worth having.

  There doesn’t seem to be any point.

  The screen is blank. No calls. No messages. I feel stupid for checking. Bram has washed his hands of me. If he got injured in some way, he would have had time to get in touch with me by now. If the beating was worse than that, my father would be in handcuffs.

  My parents must think I’m out of earshot because I hear them angrily discussing something again. I hear my name. I hear Bram’s name. I can’t help but walk closer to try to figure out what they’re saying.

  “I told that bastard not to call her again, and I told him exactly what would happen if he did!” My father’s hushed but clearly angry voice echoes even when he’s trying to whisper.

  “Good. I wish I had been awake when he called. I would’ve given him a piece of my mind too!” My mother’s voice is just as angry.

  Alarm bells go off in my head. Bram called? I check my phone again. Nothing… That doesn’t make any sense. Did he call my father?

  “When did Bram call?” I walk around the corner, putting myself in the conversation whether they want me in it or not.

  “You don’t need to worry about that!” My father takes a step toward me.

  “If he wants to talk to me…” I stammer.

  “No, absolutely not!” My mother takes a step forward and shakes her head. “You will never speak to him again!”

  “Over my dead body,” my father growls under his breath.

  I finally see it—his rage, his anger. There it is. That’s the man who knows how to make me cower. My mother’s eyes narrow into the same disappointing glare that I’m so used to seeing.

  Last night was an illusion. They drew me in and now they’re closing ranks. It’s me against them, and I feel like a little girl who’s being put in her place.

  “He took advantage of you, Kiana.” My mother folds her arms across her chest.

  “He’s a grown man, and you’re barely more than a child!” My father’s words seethe across his lips.

  Here I go again. I’m getting backed into a corner. I don’t know how to come out swinging. I don’t know how to fight.

  “I’m disappointed that you didn’t have better sense.” My mother shakes her head.

  Disappointment.

  “We raised you a hell of a lot better than that!” My father’s words turn into a snarl.

  Anger.

  This is the life I tried to escape. This is what made Bram’s arms are so damn comfortable. They know how to strip me bare, tear the innocence off my bones, and leave me exposed to their predatory ways.

  They inflict emotional damage instead of physical pain.

  “Mom…” I look at her for an instant, then lose my nerve. I look down to the carpet. That’s the direction I usually face when I’m being scolded.

  This is what I escaped from. Why did I think it was going to be any different? I actually believed they were trying to be the loving and caring parents I dreamed of having. They aren’t. If I want to talk to Bram, then I’m no longer living inside the victim illusion they created, so I have to be destroyed.

  But I won’t be.

  I didn’t come so far to regress into the same scared little girl I used to be.

  “You need to go to your room, Kiana.” My mother points. “You know what happens when you upset your father.”

  “Oh, I’m past the point of being upset.” He shakes his head angrily.

  I begin to tremble. I’m not emotionally prepared for this, but I don’t have a choice. In Bram’s arms, I found the strength of independence I fought desperately for. I won’t take a single step backward. I should have rushed to Bram’s side instead of running away.

  God forgive me for what I’m about to say. My parents never will.

  “Do you know where I was when Bram found me?” I feel a chill sweep through my body, and every muscle quivers as I force the words out.

  “What are you talking about, Kiana?” My mother gives me a confused stare.

  “I was on a stage—taking my clothes off for strangers.” My throat tries to close up, but I keep going. “I was a stripper.”

  “He made you do that?” My father’s eyes flash with rage. “I’ll kill him, goddamn it!”

  My mother doesn’t say anything. She’s processing what I said. My father has entered denial. He’s got an outlet for it—an easy one.

  “No, Bram didn’t make me do it.” I shake my head. “I chose to get on that stage because it was the only way to pay Hudson’s debt. It was the only way to save his life.”

  “I thought you took care of Hudson’s debt.” My mother looks at my father in confusion.

  “I…” My father blinks a couple of times.

  “He did—until he couldn’t afford to keep paying Mr. Diaz.” I’m in full attack mode, I might as well get it all off my chest. “What was the plan anyway, Dad? Just forget you had a son until you had to pay for his funeral?”

  “Lawson!” My mother’s attention is on my father now, and he’s the one who looks like he’s backed into a corner.

  “No, I—I was trying to find a way to come up with the money.” It’s the first time I’ve ever seen fear in my father’s eyes. It’s a strange look.

  “You didn’t go to Mr. Diaz and sort it out.” I take a step forward. “I did. I made the deal, and I found a way to make the money.”

  “I was going to…” I can’t tell if my father is lying or if he disconnected from the situation entirely. Whichever it is, my mother obviously didn’t realize how serious it was.

  “Then one day, Bram walked into the club.” I decide to press on. I’ve said so much already, and I need to say the rest. “He saw me on that stage, and he didn’t judge me. He didn’t call me a disappointment. He did everything in his power to make sure I never had to do it again.”

  “Of course he did; he was after something else!” My father has found another source for blame, as always.

  “No, all he cared about was taking care of me. He met with Mr. Diaz. He made a deal that got me off that stage and saved Hudson’s life.” I take a step forward. “He didn’t pursue a relationship with me. I’m the one who wanted more…”

  “He’s a grown man!” My mother breaks the angry gaze aimed at my father and turns it back on me.

  “And while neither of you may believe it… I’m a grown woman!” I snap back at her. “I don’t care if you think I’m a disappointment anymore. I know what I want, and I’m not going to lose it because you still want to treat me like a little girl. Bram is a good man. He’s not the monster you want to make him out to be.”

  “Kiana, you don’t know what you’re saying…” My mother shakes her head.

  I’ve said all I can say. My parents want to continue the conversation, but I don’t. There’s a good chance this will be the last time I see either of them. Once they fully process everything, they’ll do what they always do—deflect blame, shift it, and put it on someone else. They can lay it all on my shoulders if they want to.

  I’m strong enough to carry it now.

  They can deal with their personal fallout. I’ve got other things to deal with.

  I leave their house with my head held high. The first thing I do is request an Uber, and then I hit the button to dial Bram’s number.

  I need to hear his voice. I need to hear him say that what we shared meant as much to him as it did to me.

  Instead, I’m greeted with a few rings and his voicemail.

  I won’t be deterred. If he’s not picking up his phone, I’ll find him. The Uber arrives and I ask the driver to take me to my apartment. I’m still wearing the same clothes from yesterday—the clothes I slept in. I just need to go home long enough to shower and get a cup of coffee.

  I dial Bram’s number a couple of more times before the Uber arrives at my apartment building. Despite not being able to reach him, I feel better about the entire situation. It could be misplaced, and I may very well find out that Bram was trying to reach me t
o say all the things I’m scared of hearing, but I choose to believe otherwise.

  I’ve finally stood up to my parents. That’s a major step for me. The biggest one I’ve ever taken with them. If they hate me, so be it, but if we’re ever going to have a relationship again, it has to be on my terms. I refuse to be mistreated by them again.

  “We’re here.” The driver turns toward me and smiles after he stops in front of my apartment building.

  “Thank you.” I snap out of my daze and give him a tip via the app before stepping out of the car.

  I pause to try Bram one more time, and when I hear his voicemail again, I can’t help but assume he’s at work. God knows there is a lot to sort out there after what my father did.

  Suddenly, there is a screech behind me. It’s so close and immediate that I spin around to find the origin.

  “What the hell?” A black van has come to a stop by the curb, even closer than my Uber driver was when he dropped me off.

  The door opens and I see two men wearing black ski-masks. Adrenaline surges through my body as the danger registers. I turn toward my apartment building and try to run, but hands grab me. I try to scream, but a hand goes over my mouth. I’m lifted off my feet in an instant, and then I land hard against a surface that I can only assume is the floor of the van.

  “Mr. Diaz wants to have a talk…” I don’t recognize the voice, but I recognize the name.

  I try to sit up. I feel like I can explain that there is a mistake if they’ll just let me talk. My debt with Mr. Diaz is cleared. Bram handled it. Didn’t he?

  “Don’t move.” The same voice is followed by a hard blow that hits the side of my head.

  I slump back against the floor, and both hands are pulled behind my back. I struggle and fight, then get hit in the head for the second time. This hit is harder. It makes me see stars, and I feel like I’m too dizzy to move. My hands are finally secured behind my back by something that hurts my wrists.

  Losing Bram may be the least of my worries right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two