Page 23 of Boss Daddy

He tries to push himself up. Erin steps forward, her eyes blazing. Before I can process what’s happening, she swings her leg back and drives her boot into his gut. He folds with a choked sound, collapsing onto the concrete.

I chuckle at the sight, a bit of pride surging through me. The rage begins to slip away, and I start to calm down, though my chest still heaves with each breath.

I take her hand and pull her toward the club.

“James,” I growl over my shoulder, “get that motherfucker off my sidewalk.”

“You got it.”

Erin and I enter the club and shut the door. What James has in store for the prick, I can only guess. He was already dragging the asshole away by the back of his jacket, like a piece of trash that needs disposing of.

Erin’s eyes blaze with a fire that knocks me off guard. Even after what just happened, she stands her ground, chin high, fists clenched at her sides. That fierce defiance makes the lingering anger in me crack, and I let out another chuckle, the sound scraping my throat.

“That was a hell of a kick. You could’ve taken him yourself.”

Her grip tightens on my hand.

I turn to her, my jaw twitching when I get a good look at her face. A red mark blooms across her cheek, the skin already starting to swell. Seeing that makes the rage come back, hot and fast.

I want to kill the prick, take him apart limb-from-limb.

But I push the anger aside. James will handle that guy a hell of a lot smarter than I would have. Last thing I need is a body to dispose of.

Besides, Erin’s a bigger priority. She’s quiet and still. There are no tears in her eyes, but all the same, I can tell she’s shaken up.

I reach over and flick the bar lights on.“Come on, let’s sit down.”

I take her hand and guide her to a barstool, my hand lingering on the small of her back. She sinks onto the stool without argument. She remains quiet, her gaze fixed ahead.

I move behind the bar, quick and controlled. Ice rattles in the bucket as I grab a scoopful, evenly dumping it into two clean bar towels. I wrap each of them up tight, the cold seeping through the fabric, numbing my knuckles where the bruises are already darkening.

I walk back to her, pressing one ice pack gently to her cheek, the cold drawing a soft hiss from her lips.

“Easy,” I say. “You know the drill, ice for swelling.”

Her hand comes up and covers mine, her fingers resting lightly over my bruised knuckles. Her touch is doing things to me, even with the violence still lingering in the air.

She leans into the ice, her eyes finally meeting mine. Her cheek presses against my hand, and for a moment, the world stills.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I nod, my throat tight. I lift the second ice pack and press it to my knuckles, the cold biting into my skin, dulling the ache. Her eyes flick to my hand, and she smirks.

“You really should take care of those fists. Punches likes those can do just as much damage to you as to the other guy.”

“I’ll survive.” I gaze at her. “What was going on out there, Erin?”

Her eyes flash, the defiance wavering for just a second before the walls come up again.“It’s nothing.”

I lean in. Not a chance in hell I’m going to let this go so easily. “Bullshit. What was that about?”

Her shoulders sag, the fight draining out of her. She lets out a shaky sigh, her eyes glancing down to the bar top before meeting mine again.

“He works for my old boss,” she says. “Misha.”

Misha. She’d said that name before.

“Mishawhat?”

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