Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
“Nothing.” Baron held up his hands. “I’m innocent.”
“He is, Ma,” Royal added. “He was with me when the car caught fire so it couldn’t have been him.”
“Car? What car? I thought you were talking about the chemistry lab?” Betsy demanded.
“Whoa, you set a car on fire?” Zippy stared up at Baron with wide eyes.
Ink couldn’t tell if she looked horrified or excited. Maybe a bit of both.
“I didn’t,” Baron said. “I couldn’t have. I was with my brother. At a party.” He shot a look to Betsy. “Where we were not drinking.”
“I think at this stage; underage drinking is the least of my worries.” Betsy sat, looking exhausted.
Ink shot her a worried look. There had been a lot going on lately. And now he had to tell her about Zippy’s ex-foster father. Their time together on Monday had been good for both of them, but also far too short.
Maybe what they all needed was a vacation.
“Don’t worry, Ma. The guy that owned the car was a real dick,” Baron said. Then he glanced at Zippy. “Urgh, I mean, not a very nice man.”
“I’ve heard the word ‘dick’ before,” Zippy informed him. “What did the guy do?”
“He hit his girlfriend,” Royal said coldly. “We don’t like men that hit women.”
“Or children,” Baron said.
Zippy was watching them both with a strange expression on her face. Then she nodded solemnly.
“They’re bad men that do that,” she whispered.
God.
Had her foster father hit her? Was that why she’d threatened him?
Baron crouched in front of her. “Yeah. They sure are. Very bad men. Has anyone ever hurt you like that, Zippy?”
Ink held his breath. It could be the wrong move. She could clam up.
To his surprise, she shook her head. Was she lying?
“That’s good. If anyone ever does, you will tell me and Baron,” Royal said firmly. “We’ll take care of them.”
“Will you set their car on fire?” Zippy asked.
Baron grinned. “Now would we do a thing like that?”
“I swear, I’m getting gray hairs from you two,” Betsy muttered.
“Don’t worry, Ma. No one can prove a thing.” Baron winked and sat back on the sofa. “Now, did you bring us any dinner?”
“No, but I can order pizza,” Betsy said, pulling out her phone.
“Pizza!” Baron crowed. “Now, you’re speaking my language.”
“Baron? Royal?” Zippy asked.
“Yes?” Royal asked, sitting back down.
Baron moved to the couch with Bandit.
“Do the two of you have letters for Santa?” she asked, looking up at Betsy skeptically.
“Sure do!” Baron said, jumping to his feet and pulling a crumpled list out of his back pocket.
“You carry it on you?” Ink asked dryly.
“Uh, yeah. What if I need to add to it and I don’t have it? Then I might forget what I want.”
“You could write it on your phone,” Zippy told him.
Baron gasped, his hand on his chest as he gave her a comical look of horror. “Santa isn’t digital. Santa likes paper letters. Look, I’ve even said please and thank you.”
Ink had to shake his head with a grin as Baron showed Zippy his letter to Santa complete with what looked to be a long wish list.
Betsy moved closer to him. “She told me that Santa didn’t come the last two years, so she doesn’t believe in him anymore.”
Ink closed his eyes, letting the pain of that wash over him. “We’ll change that.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I convinced her to buy a stocking and we got matching Christmas pajamas for everyone. As well as some gifts.”
“You had fun, then?” He tilted her chin up.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He kissed her lightly.
“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” she asked, reading him easily.
“I’ll tell you later, Brown eyes,” he told her.
“Okay, enough of the public displays of affection,” Baron protested, shaking his head. “Old people. Gross.”
Both Zippy and Royal nodded.
“Why don’t you guys carry this stuff up to our bedroom?” Betsy suggested. “No peeking.”
“Do you really think that Santa is going to bring you a jet ski for Christmas?” Zippy asked Baron as they moved to gather everything up.
“If you don’t ask, you don’t get,” Baron replied.
“He is not getting a jet ski,” Betsy said as they disappeared upstairs. “Right?”
“Well, not from us. And Santa better not get any crazy ideas,” Ink said.
“What’s going on?” Betsy asked as he took her hand and led her to the playroom.
After unlocking the door, he guided her in and shut the door behind them.
“Ink? You’re starting to worry me.”
He headed to the bed and sat, pulling her between his open legs.
“I’m going to take care of this, okay? There’s nothing to be worried about.”
“Then just tell me.”
He sighed and explained everything that had happened. God, he hated seeing the worry on her face.
“Oh God. He could be coming for her. How would he know where she is, though?”
Lifting her, he placed her on his lap so her legs straddled his. “Listen to me. Nothing is going to happen to Zippy. Or to you.”