Protector Daddy
Protector Daddy
Laylah Roberts
Laylah Roberts
Protector Daddy
© 2020, Laylah Roberts
Laylah.roberts@gmail.com
laylahroberts.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Cover Design by: Allycat’s Creations
Editing: Celeste Jones
Created with Vellum
Contents
Books by Laylah Roberts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Epilogue
Let’s keep in touch!
Books by Laylah Roberts
Doms of Decadence
Just for You, Sir
Forever Yours, Sir
For the Love of Sir
Sinfully Yours, Sir
Make me, Sir
A Taste of Sir
To Save Sir
Sir’s Redemption
Reveal Me, Sir
Montana Daddies
Daddy Bear
Daddy’s Little Darling
Daddy’s Naughty Darling Novella
Daddy’s Sweet Girl
Daddy’s Lost Love
A Montana Daddies Christmas
Daring Daddy
Warrior Daddy
Daddy’s Angel
Heal Me, Daddy
Daddy in Cowboy Boots
MC Daddy
Motorcycle Daddy
Hero Daddy
Protector Daddy
Haven, Texas Series
Lila’s Loves
Laken’s Surrender
Saving Savannah
Molly’s Man
Saxon’s Soul
Mastered by Malone
How West was Won
Cole’s Mistake
Jardin’s Gamble
Men of Orion
Worlds Apart
Cavan Gang
Rectify
Redemption
Redemption Valley
Audra’s Awakening
Old-Fashioned Series
An Old-Fashioned Man
Two Old-Fashioned Men
Her Old-Fashioned Husband
Her Old-Fashioned Boss
His Old-Fashioned Love
An Old-Fashioned Christmas
Bad Boys of Wildeside
Wilde
Sinclair
Luke
1
Reverend Pat always said she was going to meet a bad end.
Although never to her face, of course.
She figured he was still smarting from the time she’d accidentally freed his piglets and they’d spread mud through the church, scaring the ladies having their afternoon knitting session in one of the meeting rooms.
If he didn’t want her to play with the piglets, he shouldn’t have kept them in a pen out back of the church. Of course, technically that was actually his backyard since his house was right next door to the church. But, semantics.
Besides, she’d only been trying to reunite them with mama pig. How was she to know that mama pig had been destined for the spit roast that weekend for the local church chow down? And that after she’d been let free, she’d take off and cause havoc through the town along with her eight piglets?
If Mrs. Barlow had wanted to keep the pigs out of her veggie garden, then she really should have built a fence around it. And if Mr. Jones hadn’t wanted a huge pig eating her way through his pantry, well, he should have shut his back door.
Right?
Reverend Pat still held a grudge twenty-three years later, even though he was now retired.
She really thought it was time for him to forgive her. She’d only been four.
Although now it seemed he might be right.
He’d been surprisingly supportive of her mission. Instead, he’d waved her off with a big grin. And it was more than a bit suspicious that he’d offered to organize a goodbye/good luck party for her. He’d smiled the entire night, ending up rather tipsy.
Anyone would have thought he was glad to see her go.
Oh, well, when she returned home, she’d be able to tell him that he was right. No matter where she went, Millicent Margaret St. Clair could find trouble.
And right now, trouble came in the form of a dirty, glassy-eyed man who was holding a gun on her. His hand trembled as his gaze flitted around the dark alleyway they stood in. The stench of urine and body odor assaulted her nose, making it twitch.
Millie put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “I don’t have time for this.”
He sneered at her. “Gimme your handbag, lady.”
“I think not! This is a one-of-a-kind Kate Spain.” She patted the enormous, patchwork bag.
He looked at her in puzzlement. “Huh? Don’t you mean Kate Spade?”
“No. I mean Kate Spain. She made this bag especially for me and I’m not giving it to you.”
“Fine. Whatever, just gimme the money in it. And hurry up, I don’t like hanging around this alleyway. This is right on the edge of Steele territory.”
Steele territory?
“Who are they? A gang?”
He gave a bark of laughter. “Yeah, lady. Sure, they’re a gang. Fuck, where’d you come from that you haven’t heard of Damon Steele?”
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere is right. Now stop fucking talking and give me your money.”
“Where would I find this Mr. Steele? I have some questions for him.” Perhaps a gang leader would be able to help her.
“You have questions for him? Shit, lady, you’re insane. Can’t you see the gun I’m aiming at you?”
“I see it. I’m just choosing to ignore it. See, I don’t think you’ll actually shoot me.” Well, she hoped not since she had a mission to complete. Like she’d said, she really didn’t have time for this.
“Oh yeah? And why is that? You don’t think I’m tough enough to shoot you, huh?” He hitched up his jeans with one hand as he spoke.
“No, I don’t think you can shoot me without getting shot yourself.” She smoothly slid her gun from the pocket at the back of her one-of-a-kind handbag. Mrs. Spain, after hearing about her plan, had made this handbag for her. Complete with storage for her new gun.
And look at that, on her second night here she was using it.
She held the gun steady, pointing it at the man
in front of her. This gun was also a gift. From Mr. Spain. He’d special ordered it for her. It was a Smith and Wesson, M&P, 9mm in pink. Yep. It was pink. And awesome.
Of course, maybe she should have actually loaded the magazine with bullets before leaving the motel. Seemed like she might be needing them.
The man gulped. “What are you doing, lady?”
“I’m pointing a gun at you.” Wasn’t it obvious?
“But . . . but you can’t do that! You’re some idiot tourist who got lost. You’re not supposed to have a gun.”
Anger flooded her at his words. “So just because I’m a tourist, it’s okay to rob me at gunpoint? You scared the bejeezus out of me. I might have nightmares. I might need therapy. They don’t have a therapist where I come from. So where would I go for that therapy, huh? I’d probably turn to drink or maybe drugs. How would I feed my habit? I’d go bankrupt, be driven out onto the streets. Do you think that’s fair?”
The guy continued to stare at her.
She sighed. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. If you leave now, I’m going to let you go without shooting you. Okay?”
“Fucking hell, bitch. I need the fucking money. What’s wrong with you?”
“Quite a lot according to Reverend Pat,” she admitted.
“You’re fucking nuts!” He looked around, his breath coming in pants. “Fuck this shit, it’s not worth it. I’ll rob a fucking convenience store instead. Fucking crazy lady.” To her surprise, he turned and ran off.
That was weird. She put her gun away when she was certain he was gone. Big city criminals were odd. Mind you, the only criminal she knew was old Dan, who printed counterfeit money out of his basement. He’d given her a bag full of it to bring with her, claiming she might need it for bribes.
She hadn’t had the heart to tell him that nobody in their right mind would mistake his counterfeit for real money.
Millie took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. She turned to walk away when something caught her attention. What was that? Did it move? Was it a rat?
She stared down at it, trying make it out in the dark. The light from the street lit up some of the alley but down here by the dumpster it was dark.
She stepped forward and heard a small whine. Was that a dog? Aww, poor little thing had to be terrified. Crouching down, she held out her hand. She waited patiently as it finally decided to step forward and sniff at her. Then it gave her hand a small lick.
Wait. She had an idea. Slowly reaching into her bag, she brought out a strip of beef jerky. It was some homemade. Another gift from old Dan. She hadn’t had the heart to remind him that she was a vegetarian. Breaking off a piece, she set it on her hand. The dog snatched it and hungrily chewed at it.
“Poor thing, you’re starving.” She handed him some more. By the third piece, he had climbed on top of her, getting dirty paw prints all over her jacket and skirt.
But she didn’t care.
“Come on, handsome boy. Let’s get you home and dry.” He was so small that he fit perfectly into her handbag.
Just as she was moving to get to her feet, she heard a door squeak open.
“Luther, what the fuck, man?” a masculine voice snapped. “What the fuck are you doing, dragging me out here? I can’t fucking be seen with you.”
Instinct told her to stay hidden. Well, that and the fact that she still hadn’t put bullets in her gun. Sure, she had her stun gun, as well as her pepper spray. But she’d rather not use them if she could help it.
The side of her face started to tingle. No, no, no, the last thing she needed right now was a migraine. Crap. She had to get back to her room and take some medicine. It wasn’t surprising. With the amount of stress and lack of sleep she’d had lately they’d become quite frequent.
But this was really bad timing.
“I needed to speak to you,” another voice replied.
She peered around the corner of the dumpster. Two men stood in the alley. The one facing her was slim-built and dressed in jeans, a shirt and jacket. The other man had his back to her. He was shorter and wider. Could she sneak off without them seeing her?
Not likely.
“About what? Does the boss know you pulled me out?” the man facing her said.
“Do you see him here? He’s got better things to do with his time. I’m fucking taking some initiative. Besides, I’m pissed with him. He’s treating me like a fucking courier. You should see what the fuck is in the back of the van right now. It’s a fucking joke.”
“Jesus fucking Christ. The boss will kill you for this, Luther,” the man facing her snarled.
“He will not!” Luther protested. “And he’s not my fucking boss. We’re equals.”
“Uh-huh, how come you’re doing errands for him then?”
“You listen to me, asswipe, you’re nobody. I could take you out now and no one would give a fuck,” Luther told him.
The other man didn’t reply.
“I want to know what you’ve found out about Steele,” Luther said. “I know he had something to do with my old man’s murder.”
Her heart pounded as she listened to them.
“I haven’t heard anything about that.”
“He was always jealous of my old man. He wanted his power and his girls. I know Steele took most of them when he killed my father.”
“Steele doesn’t sell pussy, Luther.”
Hmm, that made her like this Mr. Steele more.
“Because he knew my old man would have taken him out if he’d tried. Why would he take his girls if he’s not selling them? That’s why he had my old man killed. So he could have his stable of girls.”
Stable of girls? She made a face.
“Far as I know, Steele doesn’t have any of your old man’s girls working for him. And I’ve never heard anything about Steele murdering him.”
“Then who the fuck did!” Luther screamed.
Seemed Luther had a bit of a temper problem. She ran her fingers through the small dog’s fur, hoping he didn’t give them away. But he seemed content sitting in her bag. Poor thing was probably freezing.
The man facing her held his arms out placatingly. “Look, shit, man. All I know is that Grady set up a meet with your old man the night he died.”
“Who was it with?”
“You know the Iron Shadows?”
“No, who the fuck are they?” Luther snapped.
“They’re an MC club.”
“Oh, so a bunch of loser old men walking around in leather jackets thinking they’re tough?” Luther scoffed. “Why would my dad want to meet with some old biker?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who is it then? Who did my old man meet with the night he died?” Luther demanded.
“They call him Spike. But from what I hear he never got his meet. Your old man was dead when he got there.”
“That means nothing. He could’ve lied about that. He could even have been the one to kill him. Probably on Steele’s order.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t just go after Steele. The boss has a plan—”
“Listen, fuckwit. I can do whatever I like. I’m going to find out what this biker knows. Then I’m going after Steele. And you’re going to fucking help me.”
“Does the boss know about this?”
Luther flung his hand out and slapped the other man. She jumped at the sound of flesh meeting flesh. But thankfully, she held in her cry of surprise. She had a feeling neither of these men would be happy that she’d overheard their conversation.
“You’ll do what I fucking say. I’m in charge. And when I say it’s time, you’re going to help me take out Spike and Steele. Nobody fucks with my family.”
2
She barely made it back to her motel room before she started vomiting.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Not good.
After throwing up what little food she’d eaten that day, she managed to get back on her feet. Leaning heavily against the bathroom counter, she turned the tap on. Cuppi
ng some water in her hand, she rinsed her mouth from the taste of vomit.
Meds. She needed her meds.
Grabbing them from the top of the sink where she’d left them earlier, she was grateful that she knew the different bottles by heart since she certainly couldn’t focus her eyesight to read what was written on them. In fact, her sight was nearly completely gone.
Really not good, Millie.
She managed to swallow some pills, hoping they stayed down. Then she heard a small whimper. Shoot. The dog.
“It’s okay, puppy. Momma’s just not feeling well.”
What was she going to do with him? She wasn’t sure she was even allowed to keep a dog in the motel room but she wasn’t going to ask, either.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right? That was the mantra she liked to live by anyway.
This wasn’t the best motel. She could have afforded something better. She really should have done more research before she booked it. Especially since she’d paid for a week in advance, sight unseen. But she didn’t like to spend money on things that didn’t matter. She hadn’t planned on spending much time in here anyway.
Stumbling out to the small kitchen area, she found a bowl and poured some water in it. Then she grabbed a handful of the beef jerky sitting on the kitchen counter and placed it on the floor.
She needed something for him to go potty on.
Think, Millie, think.
It was nearly impossible with how ill she was. Finally, she remembered that there was a pile of fliers for fast food restaurants around here that had already been in the room. Not ideal, but it would have to do. She snatched them up, placing them on the floor by the door.