Chapter 1 #2
Aaron grunted but he didn’t push it. Neither did he move. Red raised an eyebrow and finally Aaron picked up a glass and went to pull his favorite beer.
The bartender was a friend, a boy wrapped up inside a huge man.
He believed he’d never find love because he wasn’t a young twink.
But Red had introduced him to a Daddy who loved the challenge of a big man, and the boy had blossomed.
Red never paid for a drink when Aaron was the bartender and he didn’t this time.
Red thanked Aaron and stuffed several notes into the tip jar.
He carried his glass over to a corner and stared into his beer for a long time, only looking up when a shadow fell over him.
He narrowed his eyes, not recognizing the rumpled man dressed in biker leathers who stood in front of him, although he had an idea who he might be.
“Red Baxter?”
“Who’s asking?” Red growled.
“Mo Carstairs.”
Red gave him an unfriendly glower. “The answer’s still no.”
The man shrugged. “I don’t care. Let’s play eight-ball.”
“Why?”
“I wanna hang about for a while before I go back and tell Quinn it was a waste of time just like I told him. May as well play pool while I wait.” At Red’s suspicious glower, he said, “I’ve got no skin in this game. I’m just a bodyguard like you.”
“That ain’t true, though, is it? I got your history too.”
Carstairs pulled out a chair, swung it around and sat down, leaning his arms on the back. “I don’t care what you do, Baxter. We play. I go away. You keep looking for another job.”
Red’s scowl deepened. “Quinn has a big mouth.”
“He does,” Carstairs agreed. “Wanna play?” He nodded at the empty table.
“Yeah, why not.” Red drained the last of his beer and took the glass over to the bar. The sooner he played, the sooner he got Carstairs off his back.
The game proved more enjoyable than he expected. They were evenly matched. Carstairs took the first game, Red the second.
Carstairs raised an eyebrow. “Best of three?”
Red nodded. “Best of three. Then I’m going home.”
Only that didn’t happen. Three hours later they were still playing.
Red had lost track of how many he’d won and lost. He was too busy swapping yarns about working in the security industry.
Red wasn’t surprised they knew so many of the same people.
It was a small sector to work in. Clients changed firms, bodyguards moved onto new jobs.
Mo…somewhere in the day he became Mo…looked up just as he was about to take a shot. “Uh-oh. Be prepared for fireworks.”
Red furrowed his brow until he saw a young man hurrying toward them, his expression furious. He knew that expression only too well.
“You were supposed to be home two hours ago,” Joseph Holden snapped.
Mo wrapped him up in one meaty arm. “Quinn asked me to interview a potential candidate for Biker Daddy Bodyguards. I called Con to let him know.”
The fun was over. Red put down his stick.
Wait, what did Mo just say?
Interviewing him.
Holden did an exaggerated look around. “He told me. I can’t see your interview. I can see you playing eight-ball with….” Holden squinted at him. “I know you.”
“I worked for Monaghan,” Red said, figuring he didn’t need to add he was just a grunt on Holden’s detail. Ah, that made Con his assistant, Con Ruiz. Not Quinn’s boy, Con C. The assistant must have the patience of a saint to deal with a nightmare like Holden.
“Yes. So why are you here?”
Red was about to point out it was none of his business when Mo spoke up. “Daddy Red isn’t the kind of guy who interviews in a suit.”
“So you played pool with him.” Joseph was clearly skeptical.
So was Red.
“I’m not a Daddy,” he growled.
Joseph turned on him. “You’re a boy?” Then he swung back to Mo. “You’re lying to me?”
Mo groaned and scowled at Red. “Geez, Red. You know better than to do that.”
Now it felt like a repeat of his interview. There were reasons Red had stayed away from the scene. The endless nagging for one.
Mo kissed Joseph until he was breathless, his eyes unfocused. Then he said, “Red is out of the community, but he’s a Daddy, whatever bullshit he comes out with.”
“Like you, then,” Joseph said. “Like you were,” he amended, “until you met me.”
Red had to watch as Mo gathered Joseph in his arms and held him close, whispering something in his ear. His heart ached too much to spend the evening with them. It was time to go home.
He picked up his bag and jacket. The two men were still involved with each other, not paying attention to Red who had a feeling Joseph needed some reassurance.
Red waved at Aaron as he headed for the door, grinning as Aaron blew him a kiss. The bartender had never been his kind of boy, but he was perfect for his Daddy.
“Wait.”
Red looked over his shoulder to see Mo jogging over to him. “Did I leave something behind?”
Mo held out a card. “Quinn asked me to give you this if you change your mind.”
Red looked at the card. It had a raised silver foil motorbike on the front. That was it. He turned it over to see Biker Daddy Bodyguards and a phone number in small black text.
“Call him,” Mo said.
“I won’t change my mind.”
Mo’s expression turned bleak. “The boy’s in trouble, Red.”
“Then CDR can protect him.”
That was their damn job after all.
“He needs a Daddy,” Mo insisted.
Red gave him a wry smile. “Then find him one.”
“We did,” Mo said pointedly.
Red shook his head. “I stopped being a Daddy the day my boy walked out of my life.”
“And now he’s your boss.”
That was a low blow.
Red shrugged. “I’ll find another job. There’s always work for trained security operatives.”
“Why are you so determined not to do this job?” Mo snapped, not hiding his exasperation.
Red gave him a tight smile. “I’m not the right bodyguard for a…” What did Craig say? “A tattooed, pierced, glitter-loving chaos demon with no sense of self-preservation.”
He thought he had that in the right order.
Joseph cocked his head. “Bullshit.”
Red narrowed his eyes. He didn’t appreciate the rudeness, even from another Daddy’s billionaire boy.
“Apologize to Daddy Red,” Mo said sternly.
Joseph pressed his lips together, clearly not wanting to say sorry. But finally, he hung his head. “I’m sorry, Daddy Red.”
Red inclined his head to accept the apology. “I don’t need the drama in my life. I just wanted to do my job and go home at the end of the day. Quinn will find the right man for Kit.”
Mo stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing with something sharper than curiosity. “Kit,” he said slowly. “Not Christopher. You know his name. More to the point, you know him.”
Red didn’t bother pretending otherwise. “I do.”
There was no point lying. Not with Mo. An afternoon spent with him told Red the man read people like open road signs.
“How?” Mo asked, voice low but firm. He expected an answer and Red knew this would get back to Quinn.
Red drew in a breath and told part of the truth. “I’m…I was…part of the Evergreen Wolves MC.”
He pointed at the faded patch on his sleeve. A wolf’s head, amber eyes staring at them, its fur edged with pine needles and a faint mountain silhouette.
“I’ve known Kit since he was a kid. But I haven’t been there much lately.”
A pause hung between them. Mo demanded more before he’d let this go.
“A stroppy kid,” Red added with a huff. “Eyes like thunder, a temper like gasoline. Always in trouble. Always pushing.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Mo murmured.
Red rubbed a hand across his jaw, memory stirring deep. “The tattoos and piercings are new. He was all elbows and attitude when I last saw him. You know what teenagers are like.”
Mo leaned back, arms folded, unreadable. “And now?”
Red met his eyes. “You tell me he’s trouble with a capital T. And I don’t know if I’m the right man to guard him… or the worst damn choice you could make.”
Mo didn’t blink. “You’re not answering the real question.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you care about him, Red?”
Red shrugged. “Like an annoying little brother. And as I’m not taking this job, it’s irrelevant.”
“Daddy Quinn always has a reason for what he does,” Joseph muttered. “He chose you for a reason.”
Mo slung an arm around Joseph’s shoulders. “You’re right there, my boy. He always has an agenda.”
Red had gotten that impression from the start.
“As I said, I don’t go to the club much,” he admitted. “I stopped when Davie left. I joined because of him.”
“It seems as if your life stopped when Davie left,” Joseph said.
Mo let out a long sigh. “Sometimes you have to think before you speak, boy.”
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Red was suddenly tired of the conversation. It was time to go home. Rethink his job prospects. “You’re not wrong. But I’m still not taking the job. Quinn will find the right guy. Kit needs someone special.”
“I think he’s found someone special,” Mo said quietly. “They just have to realize it.”
Red kept quiet. Mo was hardly subtle, but he was also wrong. However, Red had had an unexpectedly great afternoon, and he wanted to leave on a high.
He said his farewells and headed for his Hog. Maybe he could forget all about the strange day he’d had. The sun was setting, the engine was purring, and if he was lucky, the road ahead would burn the memory of Kit Monroe from his veins.
“Daddy Quinn always has a reason for what he does.”
“The boy’s in trouble, Red.”
“He needs a Daddy.”
The voices in his head weren’t going to give him a break.
Red rolled to a stop in the middle of the deserted road and pulled out the business card. The silver motorbike sparkled in the streetlight.
He closed his eyes and crumpled the card in his gloved hand. Then he smoothed it out and pulled out his phone.