The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The First Collection Frost, J (good beach reads .TXT) 📖

“Room nine oh four,” one of the white-suited officers says.

The captain gives a brisk nod and sets off, with me trailing her long strides. Every corridor seems to stretch for ten miles and our destination is at the other end of the ship: past the Pink Pearl Spa, which seems to be shut, through a door marked “Staff Only” that the captain opens with a card on a lanyard around her neck, through another corridor, this one ugly with gray paint, down four doors to Room 904, which won’t open to the captain’s card.

When she jiggles the handle, it comes off in her hand.

“Kick it in,” Captain Lopez says grimly to one of the officers who accompanied us from the bridge.

I back up against the wall and try to breathe, breathe, breathe. Logan’s phone is on the other side of that door. Please let it be with him. Please let him be okay, just locked in. Please, please, please.

The captain moves away from the door after giving the order and crowds me down the corridor, away from the door.

It takes both officers, and many kicks, before the door finally bends. Each kick makes me hold my breath. Each time they try the door and can’t force the lock, the humming in my ears gains an octave. I want to be first through that door when it opens, but the captain holds me back.

“Emily, your safety is my priority, too,” she says as I push against the restraining bar of her arm.

What does she think is beyond that door?

Finally, finally, it yields.

“Captain, he’s in here!”

“Tyrrell, all clear?” Captain Lopez asks.

“Yes, ma’am, all clear.”

She releases me and I rush around her, through the door, into a huge storeroom. There are aisles of shelving and boxes and, oh, no, lying among a tumble of boxes, Logan, face-down on the floor.

There’s blood pooled around his head, spiking his hair, smearing his face. His eyes are closed. Oh, no. No, no, no. I push around the officer and shove aside two boxes and drop to my knees next to him. The screams from the little part of my brain, daddydaddydaddy, block out everything else.

“Tyrrell, call the medical center and tell them we have an injured guest. Head trauma. We need a backboard and neck brace,” the captain says coolly, stepping around me. “Emily, I know you’re scared but please don’t try to move him. He’s breathing. Can you see that?”

Now that she says it, I can. I lay a tentative hand on his back and feel the shallow rise and fall of his ribs under my palm. His wolfy-daddy heat still radiates off him and I huddle closer to him.

“Tyrrell, with me. Johnson, stay with Mr. Logan and Ms. Martin until the medical team arrives,” Captain Lopez says. “Emily, look at me.”

I tear my eyes away from Logan’s bloodied face, lift my head, and meet her sharp eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The medical team will be here shortly. They will assess whether we can treat him here or whether he needs to be taken to a hospital. I promise, he’ll get the best care. Do you want to stay with him or return to his cabin and pack his things?”

“Stay with him, please, ma’am.”

“That’s fine, Emily. I want you to stay calm and keep breathing. If you start feeling panicked again, I want you to say ‘Nautilus’ to Mr. Johnson here. He’ll help you calm down. Johnson, use the pressure points in Ms. Martin’s wrists to allay a panic attack. Call me if she begins to hyperventilate.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” the officer says.

I don’t feel panicked. Nothing like I did when I was waiting for Chief Licence. Or that horrible time in the bathroom. Instead, an icy calm has settled over me. I found my daddy. He’s breathing. I’m allowed to stay with him. For right now, that’s all that matters.

“Oh,” the captain says, as though she’s just remembered something. She draws my phone out of her pocket and hands it to me. “I think you have a message.”

I keep one hand on Logan’s back while I check my phone. There’s a text from Niall.

Is Logan with you? He didn’t check in. He’s not answering his phone.

Has Daddy been checking in with Niall? He didn’t tell me, but it’s so Daddy. Oh, Daddy, please be okay.

I text back.

Logan’s hurt.

His response is instant.

I’m on my way.

I look up at the captain, who has lingered, her eyes on me. “Ma’am, our friend Niall is on the way to help.”

She nods. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure he gets here. Johnson will call me if you need me, Emily.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She reaches out and rests her hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad we found him, Emily. You did the right thing, coming to me.”

Her praise warms me a little more. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

She nods and pats my shoulder before she beckons to Officer Tyrrell and stalks out.

Niall arrives a few seconds before the three-person medical team. He gathers me up off the floor, pulls me back a few steps so the doctor, nurse and paramedic can work on Logan, and holds me tight against him.

“Emily, I’m verra sorry Logan’s been hurt.” His brogue is as thick as molasses. “I’ll stay with yeh, doan worry. Yer nae alone.”

I look up at him and the calm that’s blanketed me melts away. I start to shake. Niall hugs me tighter. His warmth isn’t the same as Logan’s. His scent is different. I appreciate him holding me, but he’s not Logan. I need Daddy.

“How did you know where to find us?” I ask, my voice tiny in my own ears.

“Logan told me where he was goin’. He’s verra careful, yer daddy.”

I nod. He is. Careful and wonderful and I need him so much.

I try to stay calm and breathe slowly, the way the captain told me, while I watch the medical team work on Logan. They buckle a stiff cervical collar around his neck before they roll him onto a backboard and strap him