Erik wasnât really the type of dude to bring problems to another personâs doorstep ( unless he WAS the problem ) but...shit, he really didnât know what else to do. He had hideaways all over the world, but he didnât really fuck around with New York like that. Shit was too damn expensive, and heâd be lying if he said he didnât prefer staying in a swanky hotel and wearing one of them fluffy ass robes.
The thought had crossed his mind to check into the St. Regis, but nah. It was mad exposed and way too easily accommodating of a black ops death squad. He really wasnât trying to have a John Wick fight down twenty floors and shit --- especially not while shielding a little girl.
Oh yeah, couldnât forget about the shorty; she was the start of this whole thing. To think heâd almost hit her little ass with his whip not even a few days ago. Sheâd just been standing there in the middle of the road as he hit the corner, staring at the car dead on --- never wavering even as he went screeching to the right to avoid her.
She was young as hell, couldnât have been more than nine or ten. Didnât/Wouldnât speak a word of English ( or any other language he knew ), either. There was nothing at all to identify the little black girl, other than the white uniform she wore and the identification bracelet around her wrist. Weird? Most definitely. But what was he supposed to do? Take her to the police? HAH. Like he was about to let them shuffle her ass into the deck with the other little black kids lost in the system. Heâd take her back to his crib and figure it out from here.
Terrible idea. Fucking terrible. Bunch of bitch ass spec ops splinter cell lookin ass came kicking his shit in and shooting up all his nice things and just pissinâ ya boy smooth off.
He fought. He killed. He ran.
Heâd text Natasha most of the pertinent information, so it wasnât like itâd be weird with him just showing up to her crib in the middle of the night. But...it might be a trip when she realizes that heâd joined the Big Brothers, Big Sisters program.
Scarred fingers rap softly on the door, as the little girl clung to the back of his leg, trembling all the while.
   â Chill. Sheâs good people. Itâll be alright. I swear. â
The trembling slowed some, but didnât stop.
closed started @oftwentyeight
