Daddy PI: Book 1 of the Daddy PI Casefiles, Frost, J [great novels to read .txt] 📗

I nod numbly. He’s helped me so much today. He’s barely left my side. He’s supported me through every moment. Somehow, he convinced the air ambulance people to let us ride in the helicopter with Logan for the long, bumpy flight to San Diego, after my pleas and tears fell on deaf ears. He got someone to bring us sandwiches when I panicked at the idea of leaving the waiting area while Logan was still in surgery. He even got a portable charger for my phone when the battery ran down from all the calls I was making. Now, he’s arranged this place for us to sleep. I have no idea how to thank him.

I wash my face and brush my teeth with my finger. My toothbrush is still somewhere on the Pacific Ocean and the Marriott’s complementary cluster of soaps, shampoos, and lotions doesn’t include one. As I mechanically scrub the hours of stress, fear, and upset tummy off my teeth, I go over the phone calls I’ve made, trying to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.

Logan made it easy for me. Along with the gun, baton, passport, and laptop that Shaan found in his safe, there were three, printed pages of instructions for me in the event of his incapacitation or death.

My daddy thinks of everything.

I made the calls he told me to make: his insurance company, his sister, his business partner, his club, and, of course, Miranda. I followed his instructions to the letter. With the exception of Miranda, every call went the way his instructions said they would go.

The insurance company accepted a code from Daddy’s instructions, which activated me as a named party on his policy, allowing the insurance company to deal with me rather than his next of kin. That’s something I never would have thought to do. Logan’s foresight left me sobbing silently while Niall hugged me like his arm was the only thing keeping me in one piece.

The insurance agent authorized the air ambulance, without any argument, although he spent a lot of time telling me about Logan’s co-pay and deductible, which, like mine, are horrific. I might have to sell my house after all. But, as Niall’s told me a hundred times, that’s a worry for another day. The insurance agent also faxed a medical power of attorney to the hospital so that they would deal with me, too.

His sister, Lizbeth, cried, as he predicted. She said she’d be on the next flight when I couldn’t tell her anything more than he was in surgery. Logan’s instruction said to tell her to stay home and take care of her girls. Lizabeth sobbed even harder when she said she would.

His business partner, Manny, was stoic and said that he’d take care of everything in New York until Logan got better. I thanked him and gave him all the contact numbers I could think of, the hospital and mine and Niall’s. I promised I’d call as soon as I had any more news.

Daddy didn’t predict who his club would send to help me, only that they’d send someone. The receptionist put me through to Mistress Maude when I gave the receptionist another code from Daddy’s instructions. After a moment’s silence, Maude made a quip about the hardness of Logan’s head, before she asked if I’d prefer to have Master Javier or Master Ryan come to take care of me. I said I’d be okay without anyone because Master Niall was with me, which Daddy couldn’t have anticipated. Maude humphed and said she’d be on the next flight. Even though I’ve only met Mistress Maude once, the night of my first date with Daddy, that made me feel better than any other call.

The last call was Miranda. No surprise, that was the hardest call. Even though I’ve never spoken to her before, she knew who I was. She immediately made me feel that Logan’s injury was somehow my fault, that I couldn’t be trusted to negotiate the best care for him, and that he’d never recover unless she was at his bedside. She said she’d be on the next flight, too. Unsurprisingly, that didn’t make me feel any better, but other than forbidding her to come, which I didn’t think she’d listen to anyway, there really wasn’t much I could say to stop her.

Niall hugged me for a long time after I hung up.

He hugs me for a long time before I fall asleep, too, even though I’m so exhausted I should be out as soon as my head hits the pillow. Finally, I curl away from him and stick my thumb in my mouth. Niall strokes my hair but doesn’t say anything, for which I’m grateful. When my thumb comforts me enough, I fall asleep.

* * *

When I wake, there’s a log around my waist. It’s not the right log. It’s too heavy, too thickly muscled, and it smells wrong, like floor cleaner and patchouli. It’s not a great combo, but I probably stink after yesterday, too. Thankfully, there’s no log anywhere else, and when I slide out from under Niall’s arm, he lets me go.

I’ve only slept a few hours, and my reflection in the bathroom mirror tells me I look as bad as I feel, but I can’t sleep anymore. I need to get back to the hospital to see if Logan’s woken up.

Without a change of clothes or a toothbrush, all I can do is wash with the hotel soap. The hotel’s combo shampoo/conditioner is going to turn my hair into a frizzy fright, but it can’t be helped. At least I smell a little better. My shirt and jean shorts are unpleasantly stiff and sticky when I put them back on. I wish I’d chosen my clothes more carefully yesterday because they’re not up to twenty-four hours continuous wear, but they’re all I have until I’m reunited with my luggage. I resign myself to looking like a circus clown when Miranda arrives. That