Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

“Your mama lets you watch The Simpsons?” I questioned with a raised brow, wondering whether I should change it. What the fuck did I know about what was appropriate for children and what wasn’t? Kids weren’t exactly my forté. I didn’t do well with whining or tantrums, though Kadey seemed different.

The kid nodded enthusiastically and instantly shoved the biggest scoop of Frosted Flakes into her mouth. “If you’re not careful, you’ll get the spoon stuck in there.”

She proved me wrong a few seconds later when it popped right back out.

Along with half the mouthful of cereal.

I covered my mouth, trying to keep my laughter inside so I wouldn’t wake Missy. The doc had given her a fucking strong sedative last night—at my request—given I knew if she wasn’t forced to get some sleep, she’d probably be up and about doing God knows what today.

“Why is Mama sleeping?” Kadey asked as if reading my mind.

I leaned back against the counter, folding my arms across my chest and trying to figure out how much I should tell her. Her bright blue eyes watched me as she pushed the cereal in her bowl around and around. There was a lot of intelligence behind those eyes.

It felt like the second I tried to lie she’d know instantly.

“Mom got hurt last night, and she needs to rest so it can get better.”

Her little face changed instantly, and it was like the light behind her eyes had been switched off. She just stared straight ahead, not looking at anything in particular, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was processing in her little mind. “Did Daddy hurt her?”

Well, it definitely wasn’t that.

I tried to keep my face from changing, fighting to keep the tone in my voice natural. “No, it wasn’t Daddy.” She nodded, satisfied with my answer and immediately directing her attention back to her food with another heaped spoonful loaded into her tiny mouth.

The hell did you say to that?

Her mom gets hurt, and her instant reaction is to question whether it was her dad?

“Does Daddy hurt Mama often?”

She didn’t falter or even stop to think about her answer. “He’s mean and hurts her feelings. It makes her cry,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “I say… Daddy, don’t be mean.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding, relaxing the tension in my shoulders. “You do, huh?”

Her little head bobbed up and down, her face full of pride. And as it fucking should be, standing up for her mom at four years old. This little girl was something else, just like her mother, and I could already feel the attachment growing, the protective nature burning so hot within me wanted to wrap her in its warmth.

I was honestly just relieved.

So he was a fucking asshole who liked to run his mouth and break Missy down, but by the sounds of it, that was all. Thank fuck for that because I was already making a list of people I could call to come look after Kadey if she’d indicated at all that her drop-kick father put his hands on her or Missy.

But it looked like he was going to live.

For now.

When Kadey finished her breakfast, I helped her down from the stool just as my phone began to vibrate deep in my jeans pocket. She rushed off to the sofa while I hung back, hitting the answer button when I saw Bishop’s number flash across the screen. “Hey.”

“How’s the girl?”

My eyes drifted to the bedroom door, not a single peep. “Painkillers must have really done the job. She’s still sleeping.”

“I’m gonna drop round those contracts you wanted,” he drawled, the sounds of his feet scuffing gravel, letting me know he was walking across the compound. “Text me her address.”

“Thanks, will do,” I answered, quickly hanging up and shooting him a message with Missy’s address.

The contracts were going to be something else.

Something that she may love or something that may have me kicked the fuck out on my ass.

That was how unpredictable Missy could be.

The girl was like this amazing storm, so fucking beautiful with her gloomy skies and electric energy that whipped around her. You couldn’t help but admire the magnificence and be in awe of the strength within.

But if you got too close or made the wrong move…

… that same storm would rip you to shreds.

Here we go.

10

MISSY

My head was pounding so hard I had to wonder if my brain had finally given up on me and was trying to escape my body by pounding against my skull.

“Shit,” I groaned, rolling my body across the bed and twisting myself in the sheet.

A move I regretted instantly.

The sharp, shooting pain that radiated from the back of my thigh was like someone turning on a light switch and highlighting everything that happened last night—the asshole, the cigar, the burn, the bath.

Hawk.

His gentleness.

The way he took control.

Something I often refused to let others do because I had been doing everything for myself for so fucking long. It felt strange to hand the reins over to someone else, to let them decide and answer the questions.

Strange, but good.

It was like having one weight after another lifted from my shoulders, and with each one, I could stand taller, I could breathe easier, and my smile wasn’t so forced. The throb in my leg slowly subsided as I stayed still, trying not to move so erratically. With a heavy sigh, I looked over to my bedside table. “Oh my God!” I hissed, seeing the time.

Four minutes after eleven!

Mrs. Dawson dropped Kadey off at seven-thirty.

My leg screamed, but I shuffled to the edge of the bed, ignoring the way my head spun, and my body tingled as I fought to get to my feet. I stumbled, catching myself on the bedframe before I hit the floor. My muscles were screaming at me, telling me to sit the fuck down. They were weak, and my mind was hazy, having trouble forcing the message through to my legs that they