Page 7 of Protected By Her Daddy

“Remember when we were kids, Gabe?” Ed asks, breaking the comfortable silence. “We dreamed about this, about making it big.”

I chuckle, the memory warming me from the inside out. The simplicity of those dreams, untainted by the complexities of the adult world, seems so distant now. “Yeah, we thought having a luxury car and a fancy home would solve all our problems. Look at us now, closing deals in government safe houses.”

Ed glances at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Yeah, here we are. Yet you still look like something’s missing.”

Never one to shy away from speaking his mind, his perpetual calm and resilience keep me grounded and give me perspective.

“Maybe I’ve forgotten how to celebrate wins that aren’t on the battlefield.” I sigh, my gaze drifting back to the rain-slick streets. The neon lights reflect off the wet pavement, creating a surreal, almost melancholic glow. “Or maybe I’m fucking tired of having no one to share it with.”

“You need to blow off steam, brother. Go and get laid.” Ed smirks. “You know it’ll fall off eventually if you don’t use it, right? How long has it been, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business,” I grunt.

“Too damned long. I know you’re waiting for this mythical woman to complete you, but your cock will shrivel up into a button mushroom if you don’t use it soon. What use is that to anyone?” He shakes his head in disgust.

“Says the man who’s been celibate for the last ten years,” I scoff.

Ed’s mouth tightens. “And you know why.”

“Gotta move on sometime, Ed. She wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life alone.”

My friend’s eyes are filled with pain as they flick to me in the rearview mirror. “Meg was it for me,” he grits. “You only get that kind of love once in a lifetime.”

I was with Ed when he got the phone call informing him that his wife had been killed in a hit-and-run. I was with him when he buried her. I was with him when he fell apart and looked for answers he’d never find at the bottom of a bottle. And I was with him when he checked himself into rehab. We’ve been through hell together and come out the other side.

I purse my lips. “Maybe. Maybe not. But you’re a brave man, my friend, and risking your heart again is one of the most courageous things you could ever do.”

“Jesus, I wish I’d never bought you that fucking book of positive affirmations,” Ed grumbles, unimpressed.

My gaze wanders out the car window as I chuckle. That’s when I see it—a tussle in a narrow alleyway. The shadows move erratically, two figures locked in a desperate struggle. One small and quick, the other large and menacing, under the dim streetlamp. It looks like a child. My instincts flare to life, the sense of urgency overpowering any sense of safety.

“Ed, stop the car,” I command, already reaching for the door.

Ed hits the breaks. “What the fuck?—”

I'm already out of the car and sprinting through the rain toward the alley without waiting for Ed. My dress shoes splash through puddles, and the icy rain seeps into my expensive tailored suit. The world narrows to the immediate threat at hand. The familiar rush of adrenaline courses through me, the raw, primal urgency reminiscent of my time in combat. The figures in the alley come into clearer view, and my heart pounds harder.

“Hey!” My voice echoes through the deserted night, deliberately drawing the attention of the man accosting the smaller figure.

He spins to face me. Tall, stocky, eyes wild like he’s high. The black beanie on his head has a white bat skeleton logo. A knife in his hand glints wickedly in the faint light as he shoves his victim—a young boy—against the wall. The lad’s head smacks the concrete, and he slides down the wall, landing in a crumpled heap.

My hand goes to my Glock in my shoulder holster, but the attacker is already barreling toward me. Shit. Why didn’t I draw my damn weapon when I left the car? I curse myself. Getting rusty, Burns.

I brace myself, instincts honed by years in the military surging to the forefront. I have no choice but to tackle him head-on, ducking to avoid the slash of his blade.

“This has nothing to do with you, asshole,” he spits. “Little fucker needs to be set free. They all need to be set free.”

Set free? What the fuck is he talking about?

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be set free,” I growl, watching him carefully to determine his next move.

He lunges again, but I’m ready for him this time. I use his momentum against him, twisting his arm behind his back and head-butting him.

He howls as his nose shatters and blood joins the rain streaming down his face. Before he can recover, I follow through with an uppercut, sending him sprawling unconscious into the dark alley.

Without missing a beat, I move to the young boy. Crouching, I check him over efficiently to see if he has any injuries. As I slide my hands over his shoulders and down his chest, his eyes pop open. Cornflower blue orbs framed by thick lashes blink up at me, and I almost rock back on my heels at the impact. Fuck, not a young boy at all, but a girl… no, a woman.

“Do you always cop a feel of half-conscious females?” she slurs, clearly dazed.

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