“I’ll grab a couple of burgers and fries for right now,” Raphael told the small face in the back seat.
“Oh, for you maybe. But we don’t eat animals,” she said, arching her tiny little eyebrows as if she were passing judgement. “I’m not too keen on fried food either.”
On second thought, he reached for his cell phone. The number programmed into each Technician’s phone, but seldom used unless it was an emergency, Raphael stared at with a bit of hesitation. He didn’t want to call but he had to, he needed to, and he reluctantly hit the icon of the angel. The line rang three times when the voice came across the line.
“State your need,” the voice said.
“Archangel, it’s Mr. Exit. I have three serious issues outside of Pine Knot near Daniel Boone National Park. I’ve been told by a credible source that the best time to go in is right after sunrise,” Mr. Exit said. “I don’t know what I’m walking into and could use some guidance.”
The voice replied, “We are aware. Our eyes are on it.”
“Should I make a move?”
“Sending support at sunrise; anything else I need to know?”
“Yeah,” Mr. Exit said, “she’s about 10 and in my backseat. I saved her from a date night; I think that’s the word she used. There are two mothers. I don’t know what that means. The little lady wants me to go in at sunrise to get the Moms.”
The line was quiet except the clicking of computer keys. Mr. Exit held his breath, awaiting a response. The normal calm which kept him company began to quickly evaporate and the thought of having to spend the night with a 10-year-old made him extremely uncomfortable.
“Archangel?”
“This may be sticky,” the Archangel replied. “Wait for the diversion. Go in. Get the women.”
“Then what? Do I bring them to you?” Mr. Exit asked.
“No, take them home and lay low, and I’ll be in touch in a week,” Gabriel Neary said into the line. He looked at his schedule. It would be more like three weeks, but in seven days, he would call the man.
“Take them home? Are you out of your mutherf...hello? Archangel? Hello?” He looked in his rear-view mirror at the adorable face. Truly, the Archangel didn’t expect him to take a 10-year-old and two hippie commune living women to his home. What if they smelled weird and wanted to bathe him in rose water and cook vegetable stew? “Hello?”
From the backseat, the small voice piped up, “I heard what he said. We are going home with you. We can be a family,” Karli said.
Mr. Exit didn’t know about all of that. He wasn’t the family type. Raphael Ian Hoyt was a loner who appreciated the life he led with no ties outside of his sister and niece. They were self-sufficient. He touched base and checked in with them on a regular basis and sent money when needed. Now, the Archangel expected him to take two women and a feisty 10-year-old home with him for a week?
“The Devil you know...,” he mumbled, looking for a restaurant that sold a variety of meals which were not fried and had vegetarian options. Raphael Hoyt was already making adjustments for a little lady in his backseat that he barely knew. The idea of taking her home along with her ‘mothers’ made his nut sack itch.
“Damn you, Archangel,” he growled between pursed lips. This was always the way it started. As much as he hated the idea of having three people in his home, he hated the idea of letting down Karli Jebsen, who smiled at him with hope and wonderment in her eyes. To think of a grown man touching that little girl hurt the spot in his chest where he believed his heart rested. The other issue that he had to reconcile more than his nut sack itching was his trigger finger.
That bitch was itching, too. His eyes went to the rear-view mirror. She was the key to more than just rescuing the ‘mothers’. Karli was also the key to unlocking the heart Raphael Hoyt hid away in the back of the closet away from prying eyes. If there was one thing which chapped his ass, it was nasty people with nasty vices. The man who ran the ‘nests’ as she called them was about to get a pink slip terminating his employment as the leader of the cult of sexual sadists.
“Karli, can you tell me what Him looks like?”
Chapter One – Lookalike
IT WAS ONE BIG, STEAMY pile of horse hockey, and the Archangel was the primed and primped stallion strutting his stuff and dropping loads of work for those who followed. Raphael Ian Hoyt wasn’t a follower. He wasn’t a leader either for that matter, but fancied himself as the lone gunman on the grassy knoll keeping his skills sharp by shooting the wings off gnats. A loner. A man with a specialized skillset who enjoyed fishing off the back of his boat, and living in an orderly home, clutter, animal, and noise free. The last thing he wanted, needed, or ever desired to have was a house full of any of the aforementioned, especially not a little snippy ass dog with a stupid name or an overfed lazy cat who sat on a high perch, looking down on him in judgement until he got up to feed it. This was not his way and not his life.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” A small voice called out.
Raphael didn’t hear the child. He barely heard the voice until a small hand tapped him on the shoulder and made him jump. The scowl on his face was deep as he looked in the rear-view mirror, ready to snap off her little fingers for daring to touch him. The look on his face made the child draw back, and he softened his gaze.
“Sorry, were you talking to me?” he asked, trying to sound as if he actually gave a shit about what she was saying. His mind was focused on how to get through the night with a 10-year-old girl child he didn’t know and how to stage an early morning rescue of her ‘mothers’.
“Yes, I was trying out calling you Daddy,” Karli, the child in the backseat said. “It will seem kind of weird when we go to dinner and I’m saying ‘Daddy’ and you don’t answer. We need to practice.”
“What?” he asked, genuinely surprised.
She repeated the new label for Mr. Exit and once more said, “Daddy?”
“What?” he asked again, trying to figure out where she got the idea it would be okay to call a strange man who allowed her to climb in the back of his truck Daddy.
“No, you’re supposed to answer with something cute, like a pet name for me. Like Pookie Bear, or Bunny Wunny,” Karli answered, her little face looking at him with sincerity.
“No,” he said, hitting the turn signal to pull into a gas station chain that had a family friendly dining experience attached with shopping for the traveling family. “I will never, ever call you Bunny Wunny or anything else as ridiculous as that.”
“Then what are you going to call me?”
“Why don’t I just call you Karli?” Raphael said with a frown.
“Stop frowning. It looks weird,” Karli said, scooting up in the seat. “Every father has a pet name for his little girl. You need to have one for me. We need to seem natural.”
“Nothing about this is natural,” he grumbled. “We’re going to pull into here, use the bathroom, grab some dinner, and go over the plan for in the morning.”
“Fine,” she said, crossing her small arms over her tiny chest. “You’re going to wish we had come up with a cute name for me that’s all I’m saying. Every Daddy has a cute name for his daughter. I think I should have one.”