Page 20 of Babydoll

I don’t carry a firearm, but tasers don’t just sting, they take you down, at least temporarily. Unfortunately, knife wounds are far more permanent.

The only thing in my favor is that I’m bigger, height and weight-wise, but if Python steps in…

“Private property, guys.” I shoot Lu a look, ignoring the fearful expression pinching her face. Her big blue eyes, watery from being choked, are harder to ignore, but I do. “Do your damn business somewhere else,” I say to the others and then to Lu, I add, “You’re still on the goddamn clock.” I purposely plaster a disgusted look on my face, but it stabs at my chest like a sword.

Lu leans closer to Preach, who’s looking at me like he has plans to end my existence, clutching his arm. Her fingers are pressed desperately against his leather jacket. In a harsh but fear-laced tone I have to strain to hear, she says, “Let him go. I’ll tell you whatever you want. I’ll get you the information.”

My brow knits. Did she just try to protect me? Me? That hits me hard in the chest like a cinder block. The tiny, underweight, five-foot-nothing Lu, in all kinds of mortal danger, just gave up something big and she did it to keep me out of harm's way.

And just like the fucking Grinch, my heart grows three sizes.

Preach raises one brow a moment then shoves Slash back. Slash is the impulsive one—and right now, I can relate. Preach is calm but a complete psychopath and the one I want more than any of the others. If hate were corporeal, it would be oozing,thick and black, from my soul to choke the life from him. I look at Python, partly to regain control, but mostly to assess him. He cracks his neck and widens his stance, readying himself. He’s the brute force. In it for the amusement of pummeling people it seems. Hurting me wouldn’t be personal, I can’t say the same.

“We’ll move our party elsewhere then,” Preach says, and with not so much as a backward glance, he sends Lu flying into Python’s arms. My fists clench, hard enough to crack the plastic casing of the taser. Python smiles as he drapes an arm across Lu’s shoulders. My brows shoot up, because it’s the lazy look of a bully that’s won his prize with little to no effort or challenge, but also because there’s something else behind that look. Surprise maybe. I’m not sure, but it’s gone as quickly as I notice it.

My heart pounds, my eyes flicking to Lu’s and the way she’s hiding her fear, but I keep my glare hard and my stance steely. “She’s got a shift to finish. Take her now, and I’ll have her fired.”

“Like we care,” Slash replies with a snort, still playing with his knife.

Lu shoves herself out of Python’s grip. “You should care,” she says through clenched teeth then checks her tone at the stilling of Slash’s knife. “He’s right, boys. Gotta finish my shift. I’m no good to you broke.” She moves forward enough that I can step between her and the bikers, and as soon as I do, she bolts for the door.

Slash shoves me hard while simultaneously flicking his blade across my cheek. Despite my size, I stumble back, the wet feeling on my face letting me know his blade is as sharp as a scalpel. I could take him down, but with the knife and the backup, the likelihood of me walking away unscathed is nil. Blood boiling or not, I need to check my protective instinct and be smart. Now isn’t the time.

“Have a good night, gentlemen,” I say and turn, heading after Lu who’s just disappearing through the door. My every nerveending screams at the stupidity of turning my back on them. I can almost feel the stab of Slash’s knife coming from behind, but I keep my gait confident.

As I hear the rumble of their bikes, my shoulders relax, but my heart doesn’t slow. I need to know that she’s okay—I need to know what she gave up for my safety.

I enter the building, my eyes instantly darting in all directions searching for Lu. It’s crazy, the way I feel. I need to search her over for injury, I need to know she’s okay. I have to. Even if it breaks my cover, because damn it, I care.

I’ve been watching her for months and I like her—a lot. Her spunk, spirit, and vulnerability make both my heart and cock throb. And talking to her, our interaction, and what she did tonight, it only cemented that.

It’s a goddamned enigma. Here’s a woman that clearly works with Satan’s Ransom, doing who knows what, because as of yet my investigation has come up with zip on this, and yet, she won’t do more than steal my pudding. And clearly she’s starving. She’s lost at least fifty pounds since I first laid eyes on her. And here’s me, not caring about the investigation I put my whole life into, not caring if it goes up in fucking smoke, not even caring if she’s a dealer or a junkie—I’ll protect her with everything I’ve got.

It makes no sense.

She makes no sense.

How I feel makes no sense.

See, damn enigma.

Right now, as I rush through the building searching for her, I fight the urge to… To what?

There’s a myriad of urges running through me. I want to…

What?

Grab her? Shake her? Put her over my knee and spank her senseless for her recklessness?

Yes, yes, and yes!

And then what, dumbass?

Search every inch of her for injury, kiss the hell out of her, and hold her until she stops feeling afraid?

Yes, tightly, and possibly forever after that.

I spot her in the corner, curled into a tiny, Lu-sized ball, her forehead resting against her knees, her janitor cart across from her, effectively blocking her on three sides. Sliding onto the linoleum, my knees polishing the floor, I reach for her but at first touch she jumps, recoiling deeper into her self-made cave.

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