Page 8 of The Biker's Single Mom
"It's Thursday," I point out.
He shrugs one massive shoulder. "Kid wanted pancakes."
And just like that, he's dismantled me again. This man who looks like he could tear apart a car with his bare hands, making special breakfast food because my daughter asked.
Violet chatters enough for all of us as we eat, telling Daniel about her favorite foods and her stuffed animals left behind in our apartment.
After breakfast, Daniel's demeanor changes. The almost-softness from earlier disappears, replaced by grim efficiency ashe checks his phone and has a brief, terse conversation with someone named Hawk.
"You need to stay inside today," he tells me, pocketing his phone. "Both of you. No going out, not even to the yard."
I bristle immediately. "Excuse me?"
"Hawk spotted an unfamiliar car doing a slow drive-by this morning. Could be nothing, could be Ricci's men."
Fear spikes through me, but it's quickly overshadowed by frustration. "So we're prisoners now?"
"You're protected," he corrects, his jaw tightening.
"Violet needs fresh air, sunshine. She can't just be cooped up indefinitely."
"She needs to be alive," Daniel counters, his voice dropping so Violet, who's moved to the living room with her toy, can't hear. "If that means a few days inside, that's what it means."
"A few days?" I step closer, keeping my own voice low. "And then what? We hide somewhere else for another few days? And then another? That's not a life, Daniel. That's exactly what I've been running from for two years."
"It's better than the alternative."
"Is it? Living in constant fear, looking over my shoulder, teaching my daughter that the world is nothing but threat and shadow?" My hands ball into fists at my sides. "I won't do it anymore. I won't raise her like that."
Daniel moves closer, his height forcing me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. "Then what's your plan, sunshine? March up to Carlo Ricci and ask him nicely to leave you alone?"
"Don't call me that," I snap. "And no, that's not my plan. But neither is cowering in corners for the rest of our lives."
"It's not cowering, it's strategy," he growls. "Keeping you safe until we can neutralize the threat."
"Neutralize?" I laugh, the sound sharp even to my own ears. "This isn't some action movie. This is my life. My daughter's life."
"You think I don't know that?" He's close enough now that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. "You think I don't understand exactly what's at stake here?"
"I think you're used to giving orders and having them followed. I think you see us as a problem to solve, not people with agency and choices."
His eyes darken. "You want agency? Choose to keep your daughter safe. Stay inside."
Something in me snaps. Maybe it's the fear that's been my constant companion for years. Maybe it's the way he towers over me, so like Carlo in size but so different in every way that matters.
"You don't get to tell me how to protect my child," I hiss, jabbing a finger against his chest. It's like poking concrete. "I have kept her safe for two years without your help. I have sacrificedeverythingto keep her away from Carlo. Don't you dare imply I would ever put her at risk."
I expect anger in return. Instead, something like respect flashes in his eyes.
"I know you wouldn't," he says, his voice softer but no less intense. "But you're not alone in this fight anymore, Daisy. Let us help you. Letmehelp you."
The gentleness undoes me more effectively than his anger. I step back, needing distance from his heat, his scent, the magnetic pull of him.
"I can't just hide," I say, hating the tremor in my voice. "I need to find a way to end this for good."
"We will," he promises. "But first, we need information. Blade and Devil are working on it. Just... give us today. Stay put."
I want to argue more, to rail against the constraints, but the memory of Tony and Vincent at the garage yesterday stops me. The fear in Violet's small body as she pressed against me.
