Page 355 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection
“No, girl. I wasn’t freaked out.” But the slight wildness in his eyes says he was, and I feel the trench in my heart open a little wider.
“Yesterday was a lot to handle, Bren,” he says as he tucks his cock back into his sweatpants. He didn’t even undress for his blow job, just pulled his pants down enough to get his cock out. At any other time, that would add to the shivery excitement of being treated like his fuck-hole, but this morning it just makes me sad.
Sadder.
“It was, Sir,” I agree. “But that’s not why I said it. I do feel that way about you. I won’t say the words if they make you uncomfortable, but I’m not ashamed of what I feel.”
“Girl.” He shakes his head and reaches for me. I put my arms around him but it feels stiff and awkward. “I’ve gone about this wrong. I wasn’t trying to make you feel ashamed. Those words are special. They shouldn’t be said lightly or without commitment.”
I didn’t say them lightly. Or without commitment. But I’ve seriously had enough of this conversation.
“Yes, Sir. I understand.”
“I don’t think you do.”
I understand enough. I understand that I’ve idiotically thrown my heart at another man who doesn’t—or doesn’t want to—love me back.
“No, I get it. Those words are reserved for marriage for you. I know how seriously you took your vows, Sir. I admire you for that. I’m not trying to compare my feelings with what you felt for your wife. Maybe those are the wrong words.” I certainly won’t be saying them to him again. “I’ll try to find better ones.”
Mac shakes his head, but he doesn’t say anything more. When I pull away, he lets me go.
He stays in the bathroom for a moment to wash his hands and when he joins everyone at the table, I could swear his eyes are red and lookwounded. What does he have to be wounded about? I’m the one who just got her heart kicked back between her freaking teeth.
But I’m shiny, shiny, shiny. I pass the waffles and the bacon and make another pot of coffee after the first one runs out. I laugh at everyone’s jokes and make a few of my own. I assume an appropriately serious expression when we recap—again—what happened yesterday. Napa tells us he’s gotten through to the Imperial Wizard of the Fairskin Knights via whatever mysterious means bikers have. Although he also told Napa to fuck off several times, the Wizard swore any action against me or Missing Ink was not Knight business.
“Mr. Wizard wouldn’t give me Move On’s name, but the guy who gave me an in with the Knights thinks his name is Leslie Thomas. The tattoos fit.”
Logan gets busy with his phone and I’m pretty sure he’s texting Max.
The scary, bald sergeant at arms, Cinder, says, “What’s important is that there won’t be any retaliation by the Knights against Brenna. You’re in the clear, honey.”
“Thank you,” I say, digging deep among the pieces of my heart to sound appropriately grateful. Going by the look Emily throws me from across the table, I don’t succeed. “Do you think I can open the shop again?”
Mac and Logan shake their heads in unison. It’s kind of eerie watching them do shit like that. They’re so in tune. I know straight guys don’t say “I love you” to each other, unless they’re very drunk, but I wonder if Mac’s ever told Logan he loves him. I bet he has. They’re closer than brothers in some ways. The thought settles like a weight in my chest and squashes the remnants of my heart flat.
“Give it another day, Bren,” Mac says. “Let us track down Move On as well. Once we’ve got all three of these dickheads muzzled, we’ll take out the camera and you’ll be good to reopen.”
Do I argue with him? It’s still my business, not his. I should be making the decisions. But he and Logan are so security-conscious, and I wouldn’t ever do anything to put Nicky or Jules or my clients in danger. I’m not going to ignore good advice just because he’s hurt me this morning. I sigh and take out my phone to text Nicky and Jules. “Okay, Sir.”
His warm hand lands on my bare thigh and rubs lightly. That’s the first time he’s touched me since he came out of the bathroom. It comforts me a little; it also makes the gouging sensation in my chest sharper. Why do I keep throwing my damn heart at guys who don’t love me back?
Logan’s phone pings and he nods as he reads the message. “Max got a possible address for Thomas. It’s within the service area of that IP address that kept hitting your Google page, Bren. Good match.”
“Lo, can you tear yourself away from the CCTV footage for an hour or two to knock on Move On’s door while I head to the hospital?” Mac asks.
A slightly charged look passes between them. Logan’s eyes fall first. “I’ll take Manny to make an impression.”
He starts tapping his phone again.
Mac nods grimly. “I think we’ve got ourselves a plan.”
The men all nod and I feel excluded from something that I should be a central part of. But something in me—not located in my chest—understands. These guys are all alpha males. They look civilized on the outside. They work within society’s constraints, more or less. But you don’t have to scratch very far beneath the surface to find their inner cavemen, and when one of their women is threatened, the caveman roars out of his cave, beating his chest and ready to kill.
I should be grateful for that. Mac cares about me enough to protect me.
Instead, I just feel a little defeated.
Emily catches my eye again and tips her head toward the seating area and massive TV.
