Page 3 of Protect Me Daddy

Earl’s hand tightened around my wrist. I couldn't break his grip, and no one was stepping in. Maybe if I screamed . . .

Suddenly, a large hand clamped down on Earl's shoulder. I blinked in surprise, recognizing the quiet man from the corner. His presence seemed to fill the space behind Earl, radiating a controlled power that made my breath catch.

"The lady said no more drinks," his deep voice rumbled, calm but leaving no room for argument.

I felt a flutter in my chest, relief mingling with something else I couldn't quite name. Earl's grip on my wrist loosened slightly, and I dared to hope this nightmare might be ending.

I held my breath, watching the silent battle of wills unfold before me. Earl's face contorted, clearly torn between maintaining his tough façade and backing down from the imposing figure behind him.

"This ain't your business, pal," Earl snarled, but I noticed a slight quaver in his voice. His grip on my wrist loosened further, and I slowly pulled my arm back, rubbing the sore spot where his fingers had dug in.

The stranger didn't move, his steady gaze boring into Earl. The tension in the air was palpable, crackling like electricity. I found myself mesmerized by my protector’s unwavering composure, a stark contrast to Earl's increasingly agitated state.

Finally, Earl's bravado crumbled. "Whatever," he muttered, stumbling back from the bar. "This place is a dump anyway." He shot me a venomous glare that made my skin crawl. "Watch yourself, sweetheart. Next time your knight in shining armor might not be around."

As Earl retreated with his group of cronies, hurling slurred insults over his shoulder, I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. The handsome stranger stayed vigilant, his eyes tracking Earl's movements until the door swung shut behind them.

When my savior turned back to me, his expression softened. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, genuine concern evident in his deep voice.

Our eyes met, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest. "I . . . yes, thank you," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. I was struck by the gentleness in his gaze, so at odds with the commanding presence he'd shown moments ago.

"That was . . ." I trailed off, searching for words. Terrifying? Incredible? I settled on, "You didn't have to do that."

His lips quirked into a small smile. "I couldn't stand by and watch," he said simply. "No one should have to deal with that kind of behavior."

I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. His kindness, after years of enduring the worst of humanity in this bar, threatened to overwhelm me. "Really, thank you," I repeated, blinking back the sudden moisture in my eyes.

I busied myself wiping down the bar, trying to regain my composure. The night wore on, the usual cacophony of clinking glasses and murmured conversations fading into background noise. My thoughts kept drifting back to the man who’d come to my aid. He was still seated quietly in the corner, his presence a reassuring anchor in the chaotic sea of O'Malley's.

I kept glancing over to check he was still there. He made me feel safe. Thankfully, he stayed all the way until the end of the night.

As last call approached, I started my closing routine, my muscles aching from the long shift. Gathering empty glasses, I noticed Dwight had slipped out without fanfare. A pang of disappointment hit me, though I couldn't quite explain why.

"Time to cash out, Tilly," Marcus, the night manager, called from the office.

I nodded, making my way over. As I counted my tips, a folded bill caught my eye. Unfolding it revealed a crisp hundred-dollar note wrapped around a business card. My heart raced as I read the neat handwriting:

"A little extra because of what you went through tonight. In case of trouble, call me. - Dwight"

His number was printed below.

"Everything okay?" Marcus asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I swallowed hard, slipping the card into my pocket. "Fine," I lied, my voice steadier than I felt. "Just . . . a better night than usual."

As I gathered my things, a chill ran down my spine. Through the grimy window, I caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure across the street. The streetlight flickered, and for a moment, I could have sworn I saw Earl's leering face.

"You need a ride home, Tilly?" Marcus called out.

I hesitated, my hand instinctively touching the pocket where Dwight's card lay hidden. "No," I said finally, "I'll be fine."

But as I stepped out into the night, I couldn't shake the feeling that trouble was closer than I realized.

Chapter 2

Iclutched Dwight's cardin my pocket as I hurried down the darkened street, my footsteps echoing off crumbling brick walls. Shadows seemed to reach for me from every alley and doorway. My heart raced, but I forced myself to keep a steady pace.

A streetlight flickered weakly overhead, illuminating a spray-painted curse word before sputtering out entirely. I shivered, pulling my thin jacket tighter.

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