Protector Daddy Page 3

Baron stepped into the room and his intense gaze landed on Spike. He smiled. Spike swore those two boys were sixteen going on forty. And Baron had this almost dark streak to him.

  “There’s a hot chick out in the bar asking to talk to Spike,” he said slyly.

  Ink sighed. “Don’t call women chicks.”

  Razor started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Ink demanded.

  “Nothing man, just you in a father-role. It’s fucking amusing.”

  “Tell her I’m busy,” Spike said. He wasn’t interested in whatever this woman had to say.

  “Are you sure? She’s fucking hot. Bit weird, but weird is the new sexy.”

  “Baron,” Ink groaned.

  “What? It’s just the truth. I should always speak the truth, right?” Baron looked at Ink with confusion, but Spike wouldn’t be shocked to find out he was playing them all. He thought Baron understood more than he let on.

  “Doesn’t matter what she looks like,” Spike told him. “I’m not speaking to her.”

  “Harsh, man. Especially when she came here to warn you.” There was that sly look on Baron’s face again.

  Seriously. What did he do to deserve this?

  He sighed and crossed his arms over his wide chest.

  “Don’t you want to know what she wants to warn you about?” Baron asked.

  Spike stared at him impassively. Baron was going to have to work harder to get a rise out of him. And he had a lot to learn about patience.

  “Fine, I’ll bite since Spike could stand there all day and never ask. What does she want to warn Spike about?” Ink asked him.

  “She thinks someone is going to kill him.”

  5

  Millie laughed as Sunny told her about sewing a patch onto her boyfriend’s cut. She wiped a tear away from her eyes then reached for her soda water, taking a sip. Alcohol was a trigger for her migraines so she tended to steer clear.

  Reaching into her bag, she gave Mr. Fluffy a pat. She was going to have to take him outside soon. He didn’t seem to like it in here, he’d been hiding in her bag since they entered.

  “Oh, here’s Baron.” Betsy frowned as she looked behind him. “Couldn’t you speak to Spike?”

  “Would they not let you in without the secret handshake?” Jewel asked sarcastically.

  So far, she’d learned that Sunny’s boyfriend, Duke, was the Vice-President of the club. Betsy was with a guy called Ink and Jewel worked here in the bar but had the night off. She didn’t seem to be with any of the Iron Shadows members. In fact, Millie was starting to think she had a thing against men. And most women. Just people in general, really. Except for Sunny, Betsy and her boys.

  Baron grinned down at Jewel. “Do you think they have one?”

  Jewel snorted. “How would I know? I don’t have a dick.”

  Betsy shook her head. “Baron? Could you not find Spike?”

  “Oh, I spoke to him. I have got to spend more time with him. He is the king of showing zero emotion. Like, all he did was raise an eyebrow and then he stared at me like I was an annoying fly he couldn’t find the energy to swat.”

  He sounded rather unpleasant.

  “I’m so sorry—” she started to say.

  “It was awesome,” Baron continued on as if she’d said nothing. “I want to be him when I grow up.”

  He did?

  Betsy ran her hand over her face. “Dear Lord, help me.”

  “Anyway, he’s not interested in talking to you,” Baron told Millie bluntly.

  “Why not? Doesn’t he want to hear about the possible threat?” she asked.

  Why wouldn’t he want to know? It didn’t make much sense.

  “Spike is . . .” Sunny bit her lip. “Well, let’s just say he’s kind of intimidating. And I have no doubts he can handle himself. He’s likely not all that worried.”

  She still didn’t understand. Even if he felt capable of dealing with the threat, he should want to know about it right? Maybe he thought that she wasn’t serious. Perhaps she should leave. She’d done her bit. But she felt like she needed to do more. If she walked away and something happened to Spike, she’d never forgive herself.

  “Oh, here comes Duke and Ink. Maybe you could tell them and they could pass it on to Spike?” Sunny suggested, giving her a sympathetic look.

  She guessed she could do that. But how did she know they would tell him?

  Oh, give it up. You just want to tell him yourself. You’re being stubborn.

  It was a flaw of hers. She was sad to say she had several. Perfect, she was not.

  “Or maybe you could convince the man himself to listen,” Jewel said, nodding over at a well-built bald man that was headed towards the front door.

  All right. She now saw why he was so confident in his own abilities. He looked terrifying. A scar ran down his neck. His biceps were probably as thick as her thighs and that was saying something since her thighs were fairly thick.

  She gulped. Dear. Lord.

  Run, Millie, run.

  They didn’t make men like that back where she came from. But . . . she just couldn’t leave. She stood as two men stopped at their table, the dark-haired one kissed Sunny. The blond-haired, heavily tattooed man pulled Betsy up against him.

  “Nice to meet you all,” she said abruptly. “Hopefully, I’ll see you soon. I need to go now and catch him.”

  “Wait, Millie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Alarm filled Betsy’s face but Millie simply smiled and turned away, heading towards the door.

  She was confident she could get this Spike to listen. After all, it was just a few seconds of his time and then her good deed for the night would be done.

  And she could get back to her main mission.

  Yes. Simple.

  * * *

  “Excuse me!” She spotted him several feet away heading towards a row of motorcycles. She wondered how he could tell them apart; they all looked the same to her. “Mr. Spike? Could you wait up for a moment?”

  Nothing. He just kept walking away. Hmm. Nobody mentioned he was deaf.

  With a sigh, she started to run.

  Running was not something she liked to do. Her body was not made to run. All of her bits jiggled. Her ass. Her thighs. Her tummy.

  Her boobs.

  Her boobs, in particular, hated running. In fact, they often mutinied by bouncing right on out of her bra. This is why she avoided running.

  Shoot. There it went. Boob popage. Really, men had it so easy. Sure, they might take the occasional hit to the balls, but really. Periods. Boobs. Childbirth. Women had it far harder.

  But she managed to get close enough to reach out and grab his arm. “Mr. Spike, I—”

  She startled so badly as he suddenly turned that she stumbled backwards and tripped over her own feet, landing on her ass. She managed to keep hold of her bag, cradling Mr. Fluffy on her lap. No doubt he was wondering what all the jostling was about.

  She opened the bag, peering in. Mr. Fluffy gave her a look that loosely translated to what the fuck, lady.

  Ouch, that landing was going to leave bruises.

  The big biker loomed over her.

  Well, he could offer to help her stand! How rude. She used one hand to try and push herself up, holding onto her handbag with her other hand. Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up onto her feet.

  She gaped at him. He was strong. Really strong. Nobody had picked her up in years. And he’d done it so effortlessly. Standing next to him, she got more of a sense of how big he was. At barely five feet tall, Millie was short. But she wasn’t light. He had to be at least a foot taller and his shoulders were twice as wide.

  Holy. Hell.

  And here she was in a dark parking lot with him. Alone.

  Too late now to worry about your safety, foolish girl.

  Fear made her heart race and her tummy clench. So she did the only thing she could think of to get past her discomfort. She shoved it deep inside, into that box she l
oosely labelled as shit she didn’t want to touch.

  And she smiled at him.

  He gave her a look back like he thought she was a freaking lunatic.

  Hey, not the first time she’d seen that look. Not even the first time tonight she’d seen that look.

  “Thank you,” she told him, wishing she could put her boob back in the cup of her bra. So annoying. She shifted around.

  Wait. Why was she thanking him? It was his fault she’d landed on her ass. If he hadn’t turned so suddenly . . .

  She frowned then shook it off. Spilled milk, Millie.

  “Why are you running after me, yelling?”

  “You mean you heard me call out to you?” She scowled up at him then pushed a finger into his chest. “Why didn’t you stop?”

  “Why should I?” He stared down at her finger until she dropped it, feeling silly.

  Damn, he was intimidating.

  “Be-because it’s polite when someone is calling your name to stop and talk to them.”

  She nearly groaned.

  Really, Millie, that’s what you’re going with?

  “Never put much stock in being polite,” he drawled.

  She huffed out a breath. “I can tell.” She shifted around again. Damn it. This was so uncomfortable.

  “Do you need the toilet?” he snapped.

  She stilled. What kind of question was that? It wasn’t something you asked a stranger.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re doing the pee dance.”

  Pee dance? She wasn’t two. Well, sometimes. . .

  “I’m having a wardrobe malfunction,” she told him with false dignity. “Could you turn around?”

  He gave her a look that clearly said he thought she was nuts.

  “Listen, lady—”

  “My name is Millie—”

  “Don’t care.”

  Wow, he was rude. And he was turning away, completely ignoring her. She took the opportunity to fix her bra then called out to him again.

  “Wait! I still need to speak to you.”

  “Don’t need to speak to you.”

  “Urgh. I’m beginning to see why you don’t care that someone might be out to harm you!” She stomped her foot.

  To her surprise, he stopped and turned. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

  “Because with your attitude, I’m certain you’ve had so many threats that you likely aren’t worried about one more, right?”

  She felt terrible as soon as she said that. She bit her lower lip in consternation.

  She froze as he leaned in, brushing his lips against her ear. A shiver went up her spine. Holy. Hell. How could she react like that when she’d just met him? And when he was such a jerk?

  “There’s few that could take me on and win. Go home. You don’t belong here. Understand?”

  Her cheeks flamed in embarrassment and anger.

  Suddenly, he jumped back and gaped down at her bag which had been between them. “Your bag bit me!”

  “What? How could my bag bite you?” Had he lost his mind?

  Then she remembered. Mr. Fluffy.

  “Oh no, poor Mr. Fluffy, are you all right? Did he hurt you?” She drew Mr. Fluffy out of her bag, inspecting him as well as she could with the amount of lighting there was out there.

  “He bit me!” Spike stared down at her incredulously.

  “You obviously scared him. He’s never bitten anyone before.”

  Well, that she knew of. She’d only known the puppy for forty-eight hours and for most of those hours she was sleeping off a migraine.

  “Why is he in your handbag?”

  “I couldn’t leave him alone. He might get separation anxiety. Or have a panic attack. Poor baby. Did the big, mean man scare you? I bet he tastes bad too, doesn’t he?”

  “For fuck’s sake,” the big man muttered.

  “There’s no need to be so rude. We’re leaving.” She put Mr. Fluffy back in her bag and turned on her heel.

  What a jerk! Why did she bother coming here? It was obvious he didn’t even have the brains to be worried.

  “Wait!”

  She stilled. She shouldn’t. She should ignore him the way he had ignored her. Thing is, she’d been raised with better manners.

  “Yes?” She turned to look at him.

  He gave her a once over. She stiffened, wondering what he saw. Did he find her lacking? Did he think her hips were too thick? Her boobs were too big and saggy?

  What was it?

  “Where’s your car?”

  That’s what he wanted to ask her? She didn’t get it.

  “I don’t have a car.”

  “How you getting home?”

  “I was going to call a taxi.”

  He pinched the top of his nose. “At this time of night?”

  “And what’s wrong with that?”

  “Lady, where did you come from?”

  “Why do people keep asking me that?” she muttered.

  “Can’t believe I’m saying this.”

  “Saying what?” she asked. “At the moment you’re not saying anything that makes sense. If anyone is speaking gibberish, it’s you.”

  He stiffened then let out a deep breath. “Fuck. Don’t come back here, okay? Ever.”

  Hurt flooded her. Tiny pinpricks of pain stabbed through her skin. She wasn’t able to prevent the pain from filling her and it took her a long moment to push that hurt deep where it couldn’t reach her anymore.

  If anyone knew what it was like to feel like she didn’t belong, it was Millie. But she didn’t care.

  Or at least she tried not to. One day that box she kept everything locked up in was going to smash open. Everything would be laid bare. And she’d be overwhelmed by the feelings she’d kept at bay for years.

  But today was not that day.

  “You got two choices.”

  “What are those? Leave town or be run out?” she snapped.

  He gave her a strange look. “No. I wait with you for a taxi. Or I give you a ride home.”

  Those were her choices? What sort of choices were they? Spend time with him or spend more time with him?

  “I’ll be fine on my own.”

  Except it was much later now. There were fewer people around. And those that were around . . . okay, so he had a point.

  “Wasn’t one of your choices, lady.”

  “Millie. My name is Millie.” She sighed. She could tell from the way he stood there that he wasn’t going to budge. “I could go wait inside for the taxi.”

  He didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. That wasn’t one of her choices.

  “How do I know I’m any safer getting a ride home with you than I am standing around and waiting for a taxi?”

  He just growled at her. She guessed that was the only answer she was going to get. Pulling out her phone, she sent off a quick text.

  Spike stood there, like a silent sentry. A grouchy, rude sentry. But still . . . it was kind of sweet that he was insisting on protecting her. He didn’t know her. Most men would have just walked away.

  She knew that better than most.

  Why was he standing here?

  Why did he even care if some lunatic with less common sense than an ant roamed the streets in this neighborhood, in the dark?

  Because you know you’d feel guilty if she ended up murdered or raped. And she was so damn naïve it made his back teeth ache. Why the hell were her family letting her wander around unsupervised? Christ. She was like a beacon for anyone within a mile radius.

  Pure innocence stands here.

  Nothing about her faded into the background or was going to let her walk around unnoticed. Not from that bright red dress to her long, dark, wavy hair and that ridiculously oversized bag with the equally ridiculous dog.

  Fuck. Him.

  At least she’d stopped talking. Why the hell would she try to warn him that someone might be out to kill him? It was ridiculous. They didn’t know each other. They definitely didn’t move in the same circles. It was
obvious she wasn’t from around here.

  Either she was a fucking good actress and he was being messed with. Or she really was as innocent and naïve as she portrayed. In which case, he needed to stay far away from her.

  Spike didn’t do innocent. He wasn’t ever going to have a happy-ever-after. His happy-ever-after died years ago, along with part of his soul.

  Now he was content living in the shadows. That’s where he belonged.

  This girl here. She was pure fucking light. A star in the deep, inky night sky. Definitely not for him.

  He kept his attention on his surroundings, ignoring the petite, curvy woman beside him. She rustled around in that huge, ugly bag.

  “I know I had it somewhere. Where did it go? Oh yes, here we are. Want a mint?”

  She held out a packet of mints. He shook his head. Where was that damn taxi? Her scent was teasing him. Bubblegum. She smelled like bubblegum.

  He took a step away from her. She stiffened. “Not a mint fan, huh? Gum? I have gum. Ooh, and a pack of Twizzlers! Do you want a Twizzler? No? Huh, more for me, I guess.”

  How did she manage to carry all that stuff in her bag as well as a dog? And did she need sugar? She seemed hyped up enough as it was. If she was his . . .

  Jesus. Fuck. Why was he having thoughts like that?

  A car screeched around the corner and with a scowl, he stepped forward protectively.

  “Oh, that’s Manuel. He’s my ride.” He turned to watch her waving at the man who was half-leaning out the window.

  While he was still driving.

  “That’s not a damn taxi,” he stated. There was no signage on it.

  “Yes, it is. Manuel just started his own taxi company. I think it’s rather entrepreneurial of him. He’s crazy cheap. I told him he needs to raise his prices.”

  Yeah, he’d bet he was cheap.

  Millie stepped forward and he reached out to clasp her arm. “No.”

  “No?” She glared up at him. “Manuel drove me here. He’s perfectly safe.”

  “Millie!” Manuel called out. He’d finally come to a stop, but he was hanging even further out of his window. “Let’s go. Wheel of Fortune is on.”

  “Ooh, I love Wheel of Fortune.”

  “You’re coming with me,” Spike told her.