Page 2 of Knocked Up by Her Daddy's Friends

“Hurry back, dear, I was just about to tell you all about my new holiday home in Cabo, I’m sure you’d love it,” John says suggestively, placing his hand on the small of my back, dangerously close to my ass.

I smile and dart out of his grasp, making a swift exit before he can invite me on a getaway or to go talk ‘somewhere quieter’. There’s no way I ever want to be anywhere alone with that creep. I don’t know how many times I can politely decline or avoid him before he gets pissed off but if Bill thinks I’ll be some old guy’s plaything to further his career he’s dead wrong.

I take my time in the bathroom, enjoying the moment’s peace before I inevitably have to go back out there. I touch up my makeup and ensure my hair is still in place. I’ve no idea what John Higgins wants with me when there are plenty of other, more attractive women here who would probably jump at the chance to be his trophy in exchange for his money.

As I re-enter the main room, the main doors at the other end swing open with such force that several people turn around in shock at the noise. They’re even more surprised when they see the four men entering the room. These guys most certainly don’t belong here. All four of them are covered in tattoos and wearing matching leather vests branded with a matching wing insignia. The symbol triggers some distant memory in my mind that I can’t place.

My mouth pops open in surprise as I drink the sight of them in, my brain struggling to process what is happening.

Why are they here? And why the heck is my mind going to all sorts of naughty places at the mere sight of them? These guys are the epitome of trouble and yet all I can think is—they’re so freaking hot!

Chapter 2

Skye

The tallest of the four men, who appears to be the leader, is a giant of a man, at least six feet four of pure muscle. His shoulder-length dark hair is peppered with gray streaks, and he has a long, thick beard, he looks like a goddamn Viking. He radiates a completely different kind of power than the sort the people in this room have, a pure animalistic, violent power. Like two of the others, he’s wearing faded denim jeans and a tight t-shirt under his vest that clings to his rippling muscles.

One of the men has forgone a shirt altogether, revealing his bare chest under his vest. My eyes pop as I note that every inch of his skin is covered in colorful tattoos and under his impressive six-pack, I see that he’s got a gun tucked into his leather pants. He wears his light brown hair short and tousled, and a smattering of stubble highlights his strong jaw.

To his left, another giant of a man stands, he’s leaner than the rest and has long blond hair and a short beard. If it wasn’t for the tattoos and the dangerous energy that radiates from him, I’d say he almost looks like a surfer. But like the others, it’s easy to tell that it’s not waves he rides.

The fourth man is as dangerous and handsome as the rest, but unlike the others, he’s mixed-race. He has to be around six feet, though he’s not as tall. He has a shaved head and only the slightest amount of stubble, his tattoos snake across his huge biceps. He stands slightly back in a boxer's stance, his watchful eyes taking in the room. As his gaze wanders my way, I find myself ducking out of sight, though I don’t know why. These dudes look scary as hell and yet I don’t feel afraid. If anything I feel… turned on.

God, what is wrong with me? Four dudes with guns have just come barging into this event looking for trouble and all I can think about is how hot they are.

“Where is Bill Anderson?” the leader calls out, his voice commanding and calm yet there’s an undercurrent of threat in it.

If I was confused before I’m even more so now. What do these men want with my stepfather?

Silence.

Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. It’s as though everyone is holding their breath. Even the pianist stops playing, missing a note in an abrupt clang of the keys.

From across the room, I can see the color drain from Bill’s face in horror. My mom looks on in abject horror, confusion flits across Ethan’s face.

A devious thought crosses my mind. I could point out Bill to the bikers. If he thinks me wearing the wrong dress is bad, this is apocalyptically bad. Like, losing the election bad. I’m ashamed to say this gives me a slight smug feeling of satisfaction. Of course, though, I keep quiet. Bill might be an ass, but he doesn’t deserve whatever punishment these guys are coming here for, I can’t imagine it’s for a friendly chat.

Apparently, John Higgins doesn’t feel the same way as he bursts out, “He’s over there!” in a panicked strangled voice, pointing at Bill.

Bill’s gaze darts between the men, Mom and Ethan, and the door, as though the coward is considering saving his own skin and leaving his family behind. The men stride across the room toward him as people hurriedly jump out of the way, like Moses parting the Red Sea. We all stand by helplessly anticipating what will happen next.

“Bill, what’s going on?” my mom asks, her eyes wide and frightened.

“It’s okay, Rose, these gentlemen aren’t going to hurt me,” he says unconvincingly before looking at the men, “Are you?” he asks, his voice coming out in a squeak.

The men tower over Bill and he physically cowers. He’s a normally imposing man but Bill looks small next to these giants. Bill’s security team rushes forward ready to intervene, the men shoot them a look and they pause for a moment, uncertain of how best to act.

“No we won’t, we just want to talk,” the leader of the group replies coolly, unfazed by the security team.

The others stay silent but it’s clear from their expressions that they won’t hurt him in front of witnesses if he complies. Otherwise, no promises. Bill gulps, composing himself.

“Very well, let’s go somewhere more private, shall we?” he suggests.

“Dad…” Ethan pipes up, stepping forward.

“Leave it, son. Stay here with your mother,” Bill orders, and Ethan doesn’t argue.

The leader nods his approval, “Alright, let’s go outside,” he says gesturing for Bill to lead the way.

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