Protector: Doms of Mountain Bend Book 1 by BJ Wane (reading books for 7 year olds .txt) 📗

Shawn grabbed the locked metal box and tucked it under his arm. It was only sheer luck he’d caught a glimpse of what the cash box held when he’d entered the room without knocking his second day here. That was the first time he’d earned a punishment with Atkins’ fist. He dashed into the hall but slowed his step as he neared the little girl’s room, her soft cry drawing an icy shiver down his spine, her voice a tiny whimper that stirred his anger.

“No, go away, please stop!”

Without thinking, he barged into the room, took in the scene of Atkins leaning over her on the bed, his hand fumbling with her nightgown as he mumbled drunken curses. For the first time, Shawn understood the term “seeing red” and brought the box down on the bastard’s head. Grabbing Doyle by the back of his shirt, he shoved him to the floor, taking a moment to ensure he was out cold before turning to the cowering child.

With his heart pounding and no time to spare, he gave her two choices. “I can take you somewhere safe, or you can stay here. What do you want to do? We have to hurry.”

She gulped, her green eyes wide with shock and an indefinable emotion he couldn’t name. Then she surprised the hell out of him when she launched herself at him and clung to his neck with her frail little arms.

“I want to…to go…with you. Please.”

Shawn shuddered, praying he was doing the right thing as he snatched the blanket off the bed and draped it around her shivering body. “Let’s go.”

He ran through the house and out the rear kitchen door, no longer worried about waking Atkins but about his friends’ reaction. The moment they saw him coming out the door, Dakota cursed a blue streak.

“What the hell are you thinking?” Clayton asked, his eyes showing the briefest compassion as he looked at the little girl huddling against Shawn.

“He was in her room.” Apparently they both read his expression correctly because they backed off, Dakota’s eyes going stone cold as they rested on the girl’s blonde head, all that was visible of her under the blanket.

“What are you going to do with her now?”

Shawn swallowed, never liking it when a hint of Dakota’s rough upbringing on the Indian reservation came through in that soft, controlled voice. The guy could be downright scary.

“I’ll take her to Father Joe’s and meet up with you at the diner.”

“No,” Clayton said. “We’re a team; we stay together. Dakota?”

“Like you said, we’re a team. Come on, let’s move.”

Shawn handed the metal box to Dakota and set off on foot for the rectory at St. Luke’s Church, grateful for their support. He’d talked a lot about Father Joe in the months since the three of them had bonded. The priest and his father were best friends, going back to their high school days, and Father Joe had been the closest person to family Shawn could claim. Their relationship wasn’t enough to keep him out of the foster care system, but at least he had support whenever he needed someone he could rely on.

The church was a good two miles from the Atkins’ neighborhood, and hiking that distance in the Arizona summer night heat while staying off high-traffic roads was exhausting. They didn’t converse much, saving their energy, each of them worried about the little girl’s silence. Her small body still quivered against Shawn’s chest, her ragged breathing on his neck compelling him to maintain his tight hold. By the time they reached the rear door of the rectory, sweaty and tired, she had fallen asleep.

Clayton rapped on the door and stepped to the side, letting Shawn take the lead when Father Joe answered.

“Shawn! What’s going on? Are you all right?” Opening the door wider, the priest waved them in.

“Father, this is Clayton and Dakota, the friends I’ve told you about. I don’t know her name, but we can’t take her with us.” Shawn let his urgency come through in his voice as he didn’t know how long they had until Atkins roused and alerted the cops.

Father Joe nudged up his wire-frame glasses and looked them over with a critical eye, his mouth tightening as he spotted Clayton’s bruised face and Shawn’s wrapped wrist. “I’ll contact social services in the morning and insist they move you.”

Dakota went rigid. “No.”

Shawn shifted the little girl as she roused, lifting her head to peer at him out of frightened round eyes. “Don’t talk so mean,” he snapped at Dakota before telling her, “It’s okay. He’s nice, but he doesn’t want anyone to know that. Father Joe is going to take care of you, isn’t that right, Father? It would be a shame if she was sent back to that house where she’s not safe.”

No one knew him better than the priest, and Shawn released a relieved breath when Father Joe read between the lines correctly and nodded. He’d tried to talk Shawn into relocating to one of his out-of-state contacts following his father’s death, but he’d refused. Phoenix had been home his whole life, and he’d already lost so much that, at the time, he couldn’t stomach another upheaval.

Moving so the girl could see him, Father Joe used his gentlest tone to talk to her. “I know a very nice family who would love to have you. Would you like to meet them?”

Instead of answering, she looked at Shawn. “Will you be there?”

“No, I have to go somewhere else, but I promise you’ll be safe. Didn’t I save you from the bad man?” She gave him a reluctant nod and loosened her clinging arms from around his neck. “Good girl.” He smiled, setting her on her feet. Laying a hand on her head, he said,