Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Ajax

“Okay, Piglet, time to go,” I say without glancing down at my daughter, making sure to keep my voice light and cheery, the exact opposite of what my body is. I’m tense, my body on full alert as my eyes track the man farther up the aisle.

I knew what he was the minute we locked eyes. It’s written all over his face. The way his eyes assess those close, the way he tracks anyone walking into the aisle, the way his body shifts as his woman moves. His face pales slightly as we hold our gaze. He sees what I see.

We’re the same.

He’s a killer . . . like me.

He walks his woman to the other end of the aisle, but it’s still too close for my liking.

He’s tall and broad, but I’m stronger, and while I’d like to avoid it at all costs, I’m not above killing a man in a grocery store.

Anything to protect Piglet.

“Daddyyy,” Mary whines, drawing my attention. She lolls her head back far enough to pout at me without turning. My gaze flickers between her and the man leaving. We need to leave.

Placing my hand on the back of her head, I tilt it until she’s standing straight and facing the cereal we stepped into the aisle for. “Mary Lou, it’s time to go,” I repeat, glancing down at her briefly.

Her little shoulders sag.

A smile creeps onto my lips. I give one last look down the now empty aisle, happy that Mary is safe for now. I crouch down behind my daughter, then reach out to take hold of the end of her pigtail. Twisting her waist-length hair, I tickle her under the chin with it. Mary squeals, and her smile melts away some of my anxiety.

“You can have those,” I say, pointing at the obnoxiously bright and sugary-looking cereal box she’s been eyeing for the last few minutes. “But then we are leaving.”

I watch as Mary squints, looking at me through narrowed eyes. She twists her lips left to right, and I know she’s about to fleece me.

“I get to pick two things from the checkout.” She tries to bargain.

“One,” I counter.

“Deal,” she rushes, offering me her small hand .

Giving me a grin that I know mirrors my own, Mary shakes my hand with an enthusiasm that says she thinks she won. She didn’t. I’d have crumbled if she doubled down at two items. Anything to get us the fuck out of here.

“You’re too good at this. How are you only five?” I huff, feeding her pride.

“I know!” She smiles up at me.

God, I love her.

Chuckling, I twirl my finger above her head, and she spins instantly. Gripping her under her arms, I lift her to the top shelf so she can retrieve the cereal before safely placing her back down.

Using one hand to hold our basket, I reach out the other for my baby girl to take. With her hand secure in mine and the large box clutched tightly to her chest, Mary lets me lead her to the nearest checkout, a few tills away from him.

The length of the queue makes me groan. So much for a quick escape.

Keeping Mary close as we shuffle forward, I bite the inside of my cheek, pushing down the urge to tap my foot.

Finally, within reach of the conveyor belt, I try to distract Mary from the Halloween candy that’s now brightly marked as on sale. The last thing this child needs is more candy. Her Halloween haul had been an epic success.

The corners of my mouth tip up. She did make a very cute pig .

Pulling the cart closer, I ask, “Baby, can you come help Daddy, please?”

Mary sighs like only a dramatic five-year-old can. I find myself fighting another smile. My mouth twitches, but I keep a straight face. I won’t encourage her sass, no matter how cute it is.

Grabbing the few items we managed to get out of the cart one by one, I pass them over for her to place on the belt along with her cereal, which she does with care, shifting our purchases until she’s happy with their placement. Hmm, maybe my OCD is rubbing off on her a little too much.

Shit.

Keeping our lives and the things in them clean and precise help me be the man I am, but I don’t want that for Mary. I want my daughter to be better than me—happy, healthy, and stress-free.

Satisfied our last item is balanced and neat, Mary turns to me.

I grin. “Perfect, thank you.”

Her sweet face smiles up at me, happy with the praise. Remembering my promise, I nod to the shelves just behind the conveyor belt. “You get one item,” I remind her. After a small squeal, she’s perusing for her next treat.

Please don’t pick candy, I pray as she hems and haws over what she wants.

My gaze flits over to where the man and his woman had been, and they’re still there. His face is drawn into a frown. Looks like I’m not the only one impatient to get out of here. Good , that means he doesn’t want any trouble either.

Mary lifts her arm, her prize held up for me to see. A small rubber ball. Perfect . It’ll keep her busy while I look at where we can head next since staying in Cromwell Town is no longer an option.

“That’s a great choice, Piglet.” I praise with a bright smile.

A bored-looking teenager starts to scan our items, shoving them to the bagging section with little care.

“Hi, welcome to Cromwell and Greene Grocery. How are you doing today?” he asks in a drab and monotone voice. The kid really hates his fucking job. Fair .

“Good, thanks,” I answer, bagging our things quickly. He doesn’t care that I’m about to have a fucking heart attack if I don’t get my daughter out of a building that holds another killer.

Mary hands him her ball to be scanned, then hurries the few steps to stand on the right side of the scanner where the kid has been throwing our stuff. I chuckle when her little body slams into my leg.

So impatient and uncoordinated.

My baby girl grins up at me, pushes off my leg, and stretches her arm out to take her treat back from the cashier. Her smile fades quickly when the little prick carelessly throws it down to the end of the counter, past where I’m standing.

Instead of being stopped by the walled edge of the counter, like our bread and milk were, the ball bounces a few times, shoots off the end, hits the floor, and rolls between the feet of people heading for the exit.

Panic grips my heart when the sound of little feet running hits me at the same time that her small body zooms past me.

“Mary!” I snap, but she pays me no mind. Focused only on her runaway ball, she’s oblivious to me rushing after her.

“Hey, you gotta pay!” the kid behind the counter shouts.

I don’t answer, too busy snatching my daughter by the back of her jacket. The pink denim holds strong in my fist. Lifting her slightly, I draw in a deep breath and try to calm my pounding heart.

One more deep breath and Mary’s feet touch the ground again as I set her down gently. Turning her toward me, I crouch in front of her.

I push my gray baseball cap up slightly, needing her to see how serious I am. “We’ve discussed you running off before. There’s a lot of people here. What were you thinking?”

Wide blue eyes blink back at me for a few seconds before she tearily answers, “I just wanted my ball.” Her little thumb points behind her at the still rolling toy.

I give another deep sigh. Standing, I offer my hand, squeezing her fingers when she takes it. Together, we weave between the other customers until we’re close to the runaway item .

Stretching my leg out, I block the path of the ball. Mary is quick to take advantage of that, scooping up the ball and clutching it tight in her left hand.

And just like that, her smile is back. At least one of us is happy. My heart is still pounding, something that only gets worse when I look over to where the other killer had been . . . he and his girl are gone.

Shit.

Another dangerous man in the building is one thing, but not knowing exactly where he is, is another thing entirely.

We need to leave now.

Rushing back over to where I abandoned our shopping, I frown when I see two security staff approaching.

“Is there a problem here?” one asks, looking just as bored as the cashier had. The same little prick who’s now sitting up straight, arms crossed with a look on his face that says he thinks he found one of America’s most wanted. If he only knew.

“He rushed off without paying.” He points at me.

“And without my groceries,” I add, gesturing to the brown paper bag where I left it. Giving no further explanation, I reluctantly release Mary, take out my wallet, and grab a few twenties to toss on the counter. “My daughter ran off,” I explain to security. Thankfully, he seems more understanding than the kid.

The same man who spoke up when they first arrived nods. “Ahh, I have two myself. All sorted.” He smiles when his coworker passes me my change .

“All sorted,” I agree, curling my fingers around the few notes and coins. The cashier nods toward a tip jar at the edge of his counter.

He’s fucking joking, right?

I give him a look that says just that and shove my fist into my pants pocket, tucking away my change.

“Hand please, Piglet. Little girls who rush off don’t get to roam freely,” I remind her. With the bag secured in my left arm, I offer Mary my right.

Security chuckles at the pout she gives me. Their hushed words reach me as we turn to leave.

“Don’t press that security button again unless you actually need security. Last warning.”

With Mary’s hand in mine, I scan the crowd as we head out, but I can’t see the couple anywhere. The grip on my chest loosens more and more the closer we get to the exit. That is until the one person in the world determined to give me a heart attack decides that today is the day that I have it.

Bored with just holding my hand, Mary starts bouncing her rubber ball. Catching it clumsily, she bounces it again and again. The exit is only a few steps away when she pitches it a little too hard, the angle all wrong, and instead of coming back up to her, the ball scampers off. Bouncing right out of the building.

A jostle to my shoulder from someone entering through the exit door is all it takes. One minute I’m holding my daughter’s hand, the anxiety is leaving my body, and the next, Mary is rushing after her damn ball, squeezing through the small cracks in the crowd like only a small child can.

Panicked, I try to follow, but there are just too many people.

“Mary!”

A tight fist closes over my heart, and I can’t breathe.

“Mary!”

I shove through the crowd, people huffing as I push them out of the way. Then I hear it . . . a small scream of pain, followed by my daughter’s cries.

I’m going to kill someone. Whoever it is, is a dead man.

I’m gasping, unable to breathe by the time I lay eyes on my sweet girl. Sitting on the cold floor, Mary hiccups, her tears not stopping. Blood rushes to my ears as I run the short distance that separates us.

A woman is crouched in front of my daughter. Okay, so I’m killing a woman today. Won’t be the first.

Barely a few steps away now, the woman’s words hit me. “Shhh, that’s okay, sweetie. It’s just a scrape.” Her voice is sweet and calm, with a husk that sends a shiver running down my back.

Mary sniffles, and they both lean in, wanting a better look at Mary’s bent leg. My eyes follow theirs. My daughter’s flowery denim overalls have a large tear. Her knee is grazed, and it looks sore, with blood trickling from the wound.

My heart gives another sharp squeeze.

“Mary Lou!” I snap, my worry escaping as anger and frustration. Both girls jump, and two sets of startled, wide eyes snap to me—one brown, one blue. One terrified, one guilty.

The woman shuffles closer to Mary. As if I’m not standing above them furious, Mary gives her new friend a small smile and then looks at her knee again. The woman, however, remains tense. Her brown eyes might be back on Mary and her head tucked down, but I see how she turns her ear toward me when I take a final step.

She’s ready to fight . . . for a child she just met.

Raising an eyebrow, I stay silent, swallowing the urge to apologize. Since when the fuck do I do that? Especially when I’ve done nothing wrong.

Mary ran off, and this woman hurt her, I remind myself. But I don’t want them to be afraid.

“Mary Lou,” I repeat, much calmer.

Shoulders hunched, Mary finally turns to look up at me.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” And she is. Her words are quiet but sincere.

Anxiety slowly seeps from my body. Red catches my attention from the corner of my eye— blood. Her little knee really does look sore, but the woman is right. It’s just a scrape.

“It’s my fault,” the woman defends, jutting her chin out.

Another shiver courses through my body. Only this time, it’s not her voice that causes it. She’s beautiful. Her big brown eyes meet mine defiantly, the fear from just a moment ago nowhere in sight. That is until I take in the rest of her face.

Thick dark lashes surround her glaring eyes, her tan cheeks are flushed, and her cute nose flares as she breathes in deep, but what really gives her away is the death grip her teeth have on her bottom lip.

Yep, definitely having a heart attack today.

My heart isn’t the only thing that’s stirring. I’m getting a hard-on outside of the grocery store. Who the fuck is this woman?

Dropping down, I quickly join them on the ground. Startled, the woman flinches and falls on her ass.

“Careful,” I warn, reaching out to steady her. A wide-eyed stare is my only answer, and we’re back to terrified. My cock twitches, a smirk settling on my lips.

I turn my attention to Mary. “What did I say about running off?”

“Not to,” my daughter mumbles.

“I ran into her,” the woman rushes.

“Nuh-uh.” Mary shakes her head. “I wasn’t looking. I just wanted my ball.”

At least one of them is being honest. “Lying is not tolerated in this family,” I warn.

“But I’m not lying,” Mary huffs with a little too much attitude from the person who caused this mess. I give her a look.

“I didn’t mean you, Piglet.” Turning to the woman who captured my attention with one look, I repeat, “Lying is not tolerated in this family. ”

Her slim throat bobs. “Yes, sir,” she whispers so low I barely hear it.

“So try again,” I tell her sharply, enjoying how her body shivers.

“I was told to be quick, so I rushed into the building just as . . .” She pauses for a second, “Mary Lou rushed out. It was both our fault.” Her eyes flicker to Mary, whose face is scrunched up.

“Mary Lou is for when she’s in trouble, which she is,” I remind my daughter, then turn back to my brown-eyed girl. “Otherwise, it’s just Mary,” I explain.

“Or Piglet!” Mary adds.

“Or Piglet,” I agree with a chuckle.

“Well, I like Piglet.” The woman reaches out and gently wipes away my daughter’s tears, which have thankfully stopped. “Is it because you wear pigtails?”

Mary frowns, her small hands holding one of her braids. “I don’t know.”

Both turn to me, looking for an answer, and something inside me shifts.

Never in Mary’s life have I thought she needed a mother until now. This moment was meant to happen. The three of us are meant to happen.

“No, it’s because she loves pigs. What’s your name?” I ask, wanting to know exactly who my future wife is.

Her eyes flicker between mine before she finally answers, “Lulu. It’s Louise, but my grammy used to call me Lulu, and it stuck.”

Mary squeals, “Mine’s Louise! ”

“Mary Louise,” I elaborate. “Louise was my mother’s name.”

“And we match!” Mary rushes, poking an embroidered flower on Lulu’s denim overalls.

Lulu grins, not seeming the least bit perturbed by my daughter’s enthusiasm. “I guess we do. Although yours are cooler since they have way more flowers than mine.”

Mary’s shoulders drop along with her excitement. “I ruined them.”

“No, baby, it’s just a tear. A needle and thread and they’ll be as good as new. Maybe your mommy could even sew a flower over to hide it.”

I cringe internally at Lulu’s words. Opening my mouth, I go to correct her, but my daughter beats me to it.

“I don’t have a mommy. She’s in heaven,” Mary whispers, shredding my heart.

“Oh.”

A blanket of silence settles over us, awkward and sad.

“I don’t have a daddy. He’s in heaven too,” Lulu whispers, her words not traveling outside our small triangle.

Mary blinks quickly, her eyes searching when she looks at Lulu. “Do you think they’re together?” she asks, turning toward me.

I frown at the question. She’s never asked anything like this before . . . We rarely mention her birth mother .

“Maybe,” I answer, stroking my hand over the back of her head.

“So Mommy’s not lonely without us?”

My heart squeezes. Mary will never know what truly happened to her mother . . . or her birth father.

A ball of emotion lodges in my throat, cutting off any words I could come up with.

“Yeah, baby, I think they’re together.” Lulu nods, answering for me as she blinks back tears.

Piglet’s head bobs along with ours. With my left hand, I wipe her small cheek, and reaching out her right hand, Lulu wipes Mary’s other cheek until we’re both happy my daughter’s tears are gone.

Sneaking a look at me, Lulu gives a small, sad smile.

Fuck, I’m in trouble . . . and so is she.