Page 7 of Daddy's Rules

“Jordy, you know you can always call me. Now spill.”

“I... went out,” Jordan says. “And my car broke down. I don’t know what to do. I mean, I guess I could call a tow truck, but...” Her voice trails off and she finishes her sentence in a whisper. “My first reflex was to call you. It should have been to Triple A.”

I let out a breath, trying to relax the tension I’ve been holding as I climb into my car. I can almost hear her berating herself in her head.

“I like that you think to call me first, but I need you safe. We can call Triple A together, okay?”

“You do?”

“Jordan, safety, remember? Where are you?”

“Oh, yeah.” She rattles off an address I’m unfamiliar with and I repeat it to my GPS and switch my phone to Bluetooth.

“What’s wrong with your car?” I ask her a bunch of questions about what it’s doing.

“Well...” My instincts kick in. She’s hiding something.

“Talk, Jordan,” I demand, using my sternest tone.

I can hear her swallow on the other end of the line. “Pretty sure I just ran out of gas,” she says. “But I don’t know this area and it might be risky to try to walk to find a gas station.” Her voice hushes to a whisper. “I’m so stupid and chicken.”

“You are not, and I don’t want to hear you say that again,” I order. “Get in your car. I’m on my way.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

“Lock your doors.”

“Okay.”

I want her to say “Yes, Sir.” I’m used to being obeyed when I give firm instruction, so her casual “Okay” grates on me. She doesn’t know it, though. After all, she doesn’t obey me.

Jordan is not one of my submissives, but God, that girl needs some structure and guidance.

I end the call and pull onto the highway.

“Damn you, John!” I mumble under my breath. “She’s floundering now.” She must be so overwhelmed. And I hate that I have no way to help her unless she calls me.

She did call me, though. And that’s something, I think as I pull into the gas station.

After I fill a spare fuel canister and stow it in my trunk, I follow the GPS directions, watching manicured lawns turn into patchy untended properties, and the clean sidewalks give way to broken, dilapidated curbs and graffitied buildings. I press the gas a little harder as people milling about turn to clusters of hoody-wearing dudes huddling together near storefronts with barred windows.

And this is where she is? Alone? What the hell had she been thinking coming to a place like this?

I clench my jaw. A quick glance to my navigation screen says I’ve got a mile to go. I slow down and keep my temper in check. It won’t do to read her the riot act for risking her safety here. But I will give her a piece of my mind later. Finally, under a broken streetlight, I see her car. The shiny red BMW may as well be a beacon for criminals. I pull up behind her car, get out, and walk to her. She looks like she’s asleep, her head back on the headrest, eyes closed, and I almost forget I’m upset with her.

She’s beautiful. Stunning, as always, and the familiar pull of longing fills my chest. I shove it away, as I always do. I’m not here to seduce her.

She shouldn’t be here, and I need to make that clear.

I tap on the window lightly with a fingertip, but she jumps, startled, and blinks up at me. She gives me a sheepish smile and rolls down the window.

“Hi.”

I blow out an exasperated breath. “Hi?”

She worries her lip and looks around. “I’m... sorry?”

“Before I ask you what the hell you were thinking, get out and get in my car.” I speak through gritted teeth, eyeing a small group of loud, clearly inebriated guys in their twenties shouldering each other on the sidewalk near us.

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