Maddox (Rescue Daddies #2)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

MADDOX

Kingdom was a phenomenal success and my practiced eyes ran over the dance floor. We’d been open nearly two months and the lines to get in each night were insane. This was Walker’s baby, but we all pulled our weight. Particularly as Gideon spent most of his evenings at home now with Abby. She was a sweetheart, and Gideon was a lucky fucker.

Funny that six months ago I loved going to see the Littles at Salvation and longed for my own, but I could barely stand to spend any time there now. Gideon and Abby were there tonight planning a dedicated puppy play space. A mixture of a soft play and a bouncing area. They wanted to keep the areas small and intimate, so instead of expanding the space, they were opening more nights and making them themed. It was a good idea.

Abby was flourishing. She was still the perfect Little girl for Gideon, but her current project was organizing a pet adoption day with the members with one specific condition. Only the pets that had failed to be adopted at a shelter’s regular adoption day could be there. Abby and Gideon already had a lab called Poppy, but over the last six months they’d added a fourteen-year-old basset hound with one eye that had just been dumped on a highway, and a four-year-old mix of lab/space alien, with only two working legs. He rocked the trolley Abby fastened him in and enjoyed as many walks as the other two.

Our fourth partner, Dion, had two Cane Corsos, supposedly aggressive dogs, but they protected Abby and her brood of misfits like their lives depended on it. No one—human or animal—would get near enough to hurt a hair on Abby’s or her babies’ heads while they were around.

In return, Abby adored the huge so-called killers and lavished them with kisses and as much affection as was humanly possible. But then, she’d done the same with Gideon.

He’d turned from cold and calculating into the marshmallow we now teased him about being, or at least when Abby was present.

That was until anyone so much as looked at Abby in the wrong way, and then the two Cane Corsos could just get in line.

Xavier drew close almost immediately, and I had to hand it to Walker, his manager was on point as always as his gaze was trained on the same group mine was. Like most of our employees, Xavier was military. He’d been a Ranger. I’d been watching three guys who were trying to look like wealthy socialites just having a good time, but in reality were pushers simply out to supply other party-goers with chemical assistance to make sure of one. Drugs were rife in most clubs like this, but we neither supplied nor distributed. We were always on the lookout for individuals tanking up before they entered and dealt with them appropriately, but these three were taking those willing to the restrooms where we didn’t have cameras.

Which meant that one of the restroom attendants—always present—was turning a blind eye and being paid for it. We paid well, but there was always the chance that someone would pay better. When we went back over the tapes showing the time they were in the restroom, we’d know which attendant was in on it, or being paid to turn a blind eye, which was the same thing.

We had three very large restrooms, two for those that preferred to use the male or female and one for those that simply didn’t care who was in there so long as they washed their hands. Another two smaller ones for the top floor.

“I’ve got it covered,” Xavier murmured nodding to the group, not questioning whether I had seen the same thing he had. “Christopher Santis the Third is in trouble with his grandfather and on a budget. Lee Michaels has offered him an alternative income. Lee is the estate gardener’s nephew and, I imagine, was present when Christopher’s grandfather lost his shit after the last house party.”

I nodded. I had no idea who they all were, just noted certain behaviors, and I assumed the mistake that had brought them to Xavier’s attention was that they were slumming on the first floor, and not in the private booths. Xavier obviously knew them. Xavier came from money. Not as much as Dion, but then Dion’s parents had to rival Bill Gates’s net worth. I came from a street corner. Literally. If the trash collector hadn’t investigated the bundle before he threw it in the compactor, I wouldn’t be here watching idiots with way too much money snort their trust funds up each nostril. Security surrounded them at Xavier’s nod and, leaving him to it, I crossed to the stairs and the first invitation-only level. I scanned the dance floor first when I got up there. There were waitress-service tables at this level, but the reserved booths were on the next VIP level with a dedicated butler and waitress service. I looked around for any problems.

“Three parties tonight, two bachelorette and one birthday,” Walker confirmed, appearing from nowhere. “They’re not getting too out of hand.”

I nodded and turned for the steps to take me to the top tier, but a flash of scarlet made my lungs seize in my chest. It was impossible . There was no way she would be here. I turned slowly, telling myself it couldn’t be true.

But it was.

Clare Elizabeth Newman, twenty-two years old. Daughter of the late Elijah and Harriet Newman. Elijah had once run the largest media company in America, but he hadn’t responded quickly enough to the digital age, and if he and his wife hadn’t both died in a skiing avalanche, he would have been bankrupt within the next twelve months. Her older brother had stepped in and turned the company around and made it a huge financial success.

My eyes scanned her greedily. Five months since I’d seen her at her brother’s, and six since I’d carried the bundle of skin and bones she was then out of the cage that bastard Jeremy Blakeny had kept her in. Her hair was still the same vibrant, untamed red cascading down her back, and even in the cage that’s what I had seen first. Her eyes the same azure blue when with her coloring, I’d have expected brown or even green like Abby’s. Her freckle-covered, pale skin stood out starkly in the bronze-colored sheath dress. Her tits, small but perfect, were pushed up and begging for my hand.

For a second, I marveled at her courage. When I’d last seen her, she’d been understandably traumatized. Even her brother raising his voice slightly had terrified her. But now having the courage to go out, even facing head-on a situation similar to how she’d been kidnapped from a nightclub, made me in awe of her. And maybe a little hopeful .

But I squashed that down flat. I wasn’t an idiot, and I knew every time she saw my face she would be reminded of one of the worst times of her life. It had been me that had carried her out of that fucker’s cage, and because she’d been terrified, I’d taken my mask off. Not only had it been caught on camera and caused problems for Gideon and Abby, but it meant she would always associate my face with her capture and imprisonment.

The pathetic thing was, I would do exactly the same again, even if it lost me her a second time.

I grunted. Lost? I’d never had her in the first place.

“Is that Clare Newman?” Walker asked incredulously. But I wasn’t listening. I narrowed my eyes and watched her some more. It was Clare, but not . She’d definitely been drinking, and I hoped to God that was all she’d been doing. On the wrong side of merely tipsy, she was very much the life of the party. There were six of them, five women and one man, and they’d garnered a lot of attention. They all had cocktails and shots and as I watched, Clare put a hand up to call for the waitress for more drinks. I wanted to smack her ass for putting herself at risk. Turn it bright red.

Then hold her while she cried.

Walker took a step forward to nix the order, but I put a hand on his arm, and he subsided, understanding immediately that this was my show. I watched as one of our servers, Briony, took their orders and went to the bar and handed them to Lizzie, one of our bartenders. Briony went to take another order, and I let myself in behind the bar. Lizzie looked up as I approached her. “What can you tell me about the group you’re making this order up for?”

Lizzie didn’t pause what she was doing, used to these sort of requests from the four of us. “Birthday party for the girl in pink.” I nodded. Not Clare, then. “All top shelf stuff. They started with four bottles of Dom, and it went up from there. The redhead is paying the check for everyone. She has an Amex black card and the cover charge went through okay.” Standard practice with an unfamiliar account. We’d been caught out too many times with stolen and forged cards that now, unless they were a regular, they had to pay a hefty instant cover charge to be on this level, which doubled as a deposit. Still considerably less than the membership fees for the top level. And why was Clare throwing her money around?

“Everything okay?” Lizzie had paused mixing the drinks.

“Yes, but nothing else without my approval.” She finished and handed the tray to a returning Briony, leaned forward, and clearly repeated my instruction because Briony glanced over to me and nodded her understanding. I liked Briony. She was only twenty-two herself with a three-year-old. Thanks to what we paid her and her tips, she had been able to afford for her mom to quit her job and to look after her little boy instead, so Briony could work here and study online. Our manager, Xavier, had a list of her upcoming exams to make she wasn’t scheduled to work before any of them, as it was common for the servers not to get out of here until four a.m. some days.

I glanced back at the table and watched as the girls on either side of Clare leaned over her to say something.

And I saw it. That slight reaction. The firming of her lips, the tightening of her fingers around her glass, the complete stillness in her body. Clare might be silent just then, but her body was screaming at the two girls to get away from her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know Clare would likely have PTSD, among other things, from her ordeal. Which didn’t explain why she was here, unless she was trying to prove something to herself.

Or she just didn’t have anyone to stop her. No, she didn’t have a Daddy to stop her.

Briony started handing out fresh drinks, and they all knocked their current ones back. Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off started and with a collective scream all of them jumped to their feet and headed to the dance floor—well not exactly “jumped,” more staggered. Briony immediately pulled out special paper lids that fit our glasses along with the tamper proof seals and quickly attached them all before she left the table. Good.

They were complimentary, but not one of Clare’s party had even given them a thought.

I watched as she stumbled along with her friends and tried to keep my temper firmly buttoned down. They were all drunk, but what the fuck was she doing? Did she have no sense of self-preservation? I celebrated her bravery, but at the same time I wanted to shake some sense into her. She’d been drugged before, and she’d just left an unattended drink in a nightclub, which was a huge mistake. The top tier had dedicated butlers and would keep anyone from going near unattended drinks, but this level didn’t have that. All they had were pre-booked tables with servers.

I moved to the railing and watched as the group quickly became the life and soul of the dance floor, garnering attention. The birthday girl let herself be yanked into some guy’s arms and they made out in the middle of the dance floor. My gaze flickered to one of the three roving security staff we had on the floor. Kazi had already noticed the birthday girl and had stepped nearer to watch for any sign the kissing wasn’t consensual.

I tapped my earpiece and she answered immediately. “I’m about to cut the whole group off. Keep a watch out.” She met my gaze and nodded her understanding then signaled to Roy, another of her staff. He came closer and I saw her pass on my instructions.

I beckoned Briony over and instructed her to remove the drinks, refund them on the account, and replace them with sealed bottles of water. I turned back and my vision narrowed on Clare. She was dancing with some guy who had his hands all over her. Specifically her waist, but his other hand was on her ass. She grabbed his hand and tried to move it, but he’d already pulled her into his body and was grinding on her. I saw her sloppy drunk smile morph to fear, and my feet were moving before my brain caught up.

Kazi saw me move and worked out immediately why. I still got to Clare first, though, and yanked the guy away from Clare so fast he fell. Roy was on him in a second and, not waiting a moment, I half hustled, half carried Clare to the edge of the dance floor. She was frozen and I cursed. “Maddox?” Kazi joined me.

“Tell her friends she felt unwell and have them go back to their table. If one of them looks sober enough, escort them to my office.”

Trying to get Clare to walk was pointless, so I simply swung her up in my arms and carried her to the office. By the time I sat her down on the sofa I had in there, she’d practically gone green, and I just had time to grab the plastic waste can before she spewed her guts up. The only good thing about her reaction was it seemed to bring her out of her shock, and she hung onto the can as I hung onto her hair to keep it out of the way. She moaned pitifully after a few more retches and I put the can down and pushed it away. I could reach the tissues, and I soon had an open bottle of water too. She turned her head away when I offered it, and that was when my temper snapped. I didn’t raise my voice, and I wouldn’t so much as lay a finger on her in anger, but she wasn’t getting away with this shit. Ignoring her squeak, I simply pulled her onto my lap. “Drink,” I ordered, and she took a couple of sips before I pulled it away. I wiped her mouth gently and cradled her when the shakes and then the tears came.

I hated what had brought her to me, but I unashamedly loved every moment of her curled up in my lap. She was asleep when Walker let himself into the office. He smiled slightly at the sight of her curled up, and without a second’s hesitation emptied and cleaned the trashcan in the adjoining bathroom. “Her friends are a no-go. The only ones not trashed don’t know her very well. Apparently, she and the birthday girl have families that are friends, even if not in the same income bracket.” I scrubbed my eyes with my free hand. I was going to have to call her brother.

I didn’t want to. What I wanted to do was spank her irresponsible bottom bright red until she saw how foolish she’d been, then hold her again through her tears, make sure she had a sippy cup—or a bottle—full of water, two Tylenol, and settle her down in bed in my arms. I ached to hold her through the night, but I didn’t have that right.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled to Karl Newman’s number, then hesitated. It was a long drive to his house, nearly two hours. “Can you find out where she’s supposed to be staying tonight?" Because she had to have made some arrangements other than driving home at the rate she’d been drinking.

Walker left without a word and came back barely fifteen minutes later. “Birthday girl. I told her friends, because Birthday girl was busy being sick in the restrooms, that we would make sure she got home okay and gave them our cards. None of them questioned it,” Walker clipped out.

I shook my head in frustration that she didn’t seem to have one goddamn friend looking out for her, but I wasn’t complaining. “I’m taking her home and I need a driver.”

“You sure?” Walker questioned softly.

I nodded and stood with her in my arms. I might have left the service, but I was still fit. The spanking couldn’t happen tonight, but she was definitely going to spend the night in my arms.

The first of many, if I had anything to say about it.