Page 1 of Damaged Protector

Prologue

“Bomp, bomp, bomp. Another one bites the dust,” I sang quietly before tossing back a shot of tequila.

My eyes roamed around the wedding venue, finding each of my friends—my chosen brothers, really.

Beau “Shark” Atwood was seated in the corner, holding his sleeping two-year-old son against his shoulder while rubbing his pregnant wife’s bare feet in his lap. The big grump had surprised everyone by falling for and marrying the most adorable woman on the planet.

Let’s see… when was that? Musta been two and a half years now. Charli had definitely tamed and softened his grumpy ass.

Shark taking the plunge seemed to have set off some kind of chain reaction because six months later, our buddy Camden Fitz married the love of his life. Now that was a damn story that would send chills down your spine.

Cam and Shiloh now had a little girl named Bella, who was proving to be quite a challenge for the couple. At sixteen months old, she was already a handful. And that was putting it nicely. Bella Fitz had the biggest, bluest eyes—just like her dad—and the face of an angel. Which was probably why she got away with so much shit. I fucking adored that kid though. She was hysterical even when she was wreaking havoc.

Then Waylon “Tank” Hanford had married the brunette bombshell, Bristol, and knocked her up immediately. Their baby, Amelia, had just turned a year old. She was sweet and placid, much like Tank.

My eyes shifted to the dance floor to the next friend who’d taken the marital plunge. Mario “Woody” Diaz was slow-dancing with his new wife, Tazanna—Taz for short. That one had been a surprise as well, not because Woody was anti-marriage, but because we thought they despised each other. Guess they fooled us all.

Then today, our other friend, Bode, got married. He was truly the nicest guy I knew, and I couldn’t have been happier for his crazy ass.

His new bride, Landree, was perfect for him. She came with three kids and Bode had one of his own. They’d gone to the courthouse this morning and adopted each other’s children before marrying. The entire family was so sweet, I think I had developed diabetes.

Probably need a shot for that. Instead of insulin, I signaled the bartender for another tequila.

“Can I have one of dose?” a small voice asked from near my hip, and I looked down to see the freshly adopted Mia Bode looking up at me.

“Hey, little bit,” I said, picking her up. “Your mom lets you shoot tequila?”

“Uh-huh,” she assured me.

“Alrighty then. Bartender, set me up a shot for my pretty lady here, and make it pink.” I tossed him a wink, and he grinned.

“Coming right up.”

Mia scrunched her little shoulders in excitement as the man squirted some Sprite into a shot glass and added a dab of cherry syrup. She was a darling kid, her Down Syndrome making her seem younger than her seven years.

“Cheers!” I said, tapping my tiny glass against hers once the bartender handed them over.

“Cheerios!” she yelled, and I grinned around my glass as we downed our drinks. “Okay, I gonna go dance with Mason now.”

“Okay, have fun,” I told her, taking her glass and setting her on her feet so she could go find her twin brother. Her pink dress flowed behind her as she ran.

“Letting my granddaughter do shots?” India Bode-Webster teased, strolling up beside me and signaling the bartender.

I pressed a kiss against her cheek. “I draw the line at corrupting children. It was a Shirley Temple shot. How’s the mother of the groom?”

“Excellent!” She picked up the glass of white wine and took a sip. “I’ve got a strong, beautiful daughter-in-law and three new grandchildren. Everything I could have wanted for my son.”

“I’m happy for them. And you. How’s married life going with Troy?” Bode’s mom had married Landree’s ex-father-in-law last year.

“Hot and heavy,” she informed me with a wiggle of her gray eyebrows. “I get hay burn on my ass at least once a week. Troy really likes the barn.”

“Didn’t need to know all that.” I made a mental note to avoid the barn at Landree’s safari. At all costs.

“Then you shouldn’t have asked. And when have you ever been shy about sex?”

“Jesus, you’re like a mom to me, India. I don’t need to hear about your ass rash.”

She laughed, a loud raucous sound. “So noted.”

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