Page 12 of Guardian

And maybe then, with the truth, my heart would remember how it was fooled before by a dangerous man. And it would stop fluttering when he touched me.

“You came to my house to rescue us when my son called. You’re staying over. You hugged my son. There’s no better night to find out than this, seeing as history with another mysterious man is what got us here.” My eyes flicked to my son’s room.

Sweet sighed and took the place on the stool where I had been sitting. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to sit there but was grateful for the distance at the moment.

I wasn’t expecting his next words, but they rang true and explained a lot.

“The tats do mean something just like you told Jackson. I’m not an ex-con, though. These aren’t prison tats.”

Truthfully, I should have known that. My ex had plenty of those. But I said nothing, listening as the man who’d cleaned and cared for my wounds continued.

“I’m an enforcer for an MC, a motorcycle club. I protect my associates in whatever way becomes necessary. I’m lethal when I have to be, but I think you’ve already figured that much out for yourself.”

I nodded, my jaw tight. It would explain the anger. The protectiveness. He did this all the time. I wondered what necessities he’d performed in the past but at least had to admit it was different than what my ex and his associates did. They harmed others for their fix, for money...not out of necessity per se.

Sweet caught my gaze and held it. There was a silent plea there. “I don’t bring harm to anyone just for the fun of it, but I do protect the people I consider to be mine. Jackson is mine. Now you are too. I promise there’s no one better to protect him,” he swore.

Mine.That word made me shiver.

After all I’d faced I didn’t want to belong to anyone. But there was something in the way he said it that made this damn traitorous heart f mine skip a beat. I guess I was still a fool.

But I had to consider what he was saying for the sake of Jackson.

I didn’t like what he was, or what it meant. It was just another form of illegal activity, one as frightening as I’d gotten caughtup in before. Yet, he didn’t act like Mitch. He was protective, not dismissive or cruel. He was kind and gentle instead of demanding. He wasn’t going to use us the way Mitch had.

I knew there was a lot more to learn, most of which I wasn’t going to like. But I felt safe with Sweet and so did Jackson.

I knew without a single doubt that when my son was with this man no harm would come to him. He’d probably give his life for my child. That made him okay in my eyes.

Or at least okay to protect my son. My guard would still be up. Maybe it always would be.

“I know what you do isn’t legal, and I’m sure there are other things about you and the MC that would freak me out. However, you’re what Jackson needs right now. So, you can remain his mentor,” I relented.

His eyes widened in surprise, but then he went back to his composed nature.

“I appreciate it. He needs you too. You’ve been strong for him in a way many others couldn’t have. Don’t discount yourself or your importance. Now, I’ll watch over things you should sleep.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he stood up and went to the bedroom only to come back with a blanket. He placed it over me just as a cold sweat took over. The shock was wearing off, and the fear was coming back.

Mitch would be back eventually.

I curled up on the couch and tried to rest, but my eyes kept landing on Sweet. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 7

My anger remained intactas the night continued. Every cut on Jemma’s pretty face was a mark against Jackson’s so-called father. Mitch didn’t deserve this family. He hadn’t earned their loyalty, yet by not calling the cops they’d protected his sorry ass.

Jemma had woken up multiple times, fear, anger, and worry striking her as she processed what she and her son had just gone through.

As Jemma had continued talking, unable to stop her rambling due to the stressful circumstances, she had accidently revealed some things that had me believing Mitch was deep into a world he couldn’t get out of without paying with his life. I smelled a rat, a really big one, most likely the mafia.

The fool had brought danger to Jemma’s door, and he didn’t even give a damn. I could only hope that he was too small a fish in a damn big ocean for the mafia bosses to bother with his ex-wife and a son he cared far too little about.

Jemma had reluctantly gone back to bed and left me to watch over her and Jackson. I’d found some plywood in the garage and nailed it up to cover the gaping hole where the door had once stood. The door was trash, bent in the middle and splintered, so there was no repairing it. Jemma and Jackson would be forced to use the back door until the front one was replaced.

I checked in on them both and was satisfied to see them sleeping, so I tried to lay down on the sofa. That was an effort in futility and laughable. My height meant my knees were bent over the armrest letting my feet dangle uncomfortably. I sat up, pushed the coffee table far enough away so that my feet could be supported on it, crossed my arms over my chest, leaned my head back, and dozed as much as I could until sunlight and the scent of coffee woke me.

I groaned out loud as I lifted my feet from the table. Every muscle in my legs ached from being stretched over empty space. I stared bleary eyed at Jemma as she poured a large mug full of the heavenly-smelling coffee. The tiny cuts on her face didn’t change the fact that she was beautiful or that I had a morning hard-on that grew heavier as she bent to take something out of the oven, showing me her round ass.

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