Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
RED
Red had issues. Or rather one large issue, currently pinning him to the bed.
At some point, Kit had thrown back the covers and made himself comfortable over Red, one arm and one leg pinning Red to the mattress. He was soft and warm, and his morning wood pressed into Red’s hip. Red was trying hard not to think about that. He was just as hard, for other reasons.
Overheated with a Kit blanket and chilled where he was exposed, Red needed at least some cover. He reached down with his free hand and managed to snag one of the blankets, tugging it up and over them.
Kit made a soft grumbling sound and snuggled against him, pulling the blanket higher. “Thank you, Daddy.”
Red froze, but Kit didn’t wake, just sighing and his breathing deepened. Red was in so much trouble.
He stared into the darkness. Without a window, he had no idea if it was daylight yet. He was glad of the peace and quiet. It was the first moment he’d had to think in the past few days.
He was in turmoil, conflicted between his desire not to get involved, to protect himself from heartache, and having Kit in his arms, a boy who needed him, a Daddy, not just a bodyguard.
He’d stayed away from the Daddy community for so long, since Davie had left him, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to be dragged back into it.
They were, without doubt, the biggest bunch of gossips and nosy bastards he’d ever met.
And that was just the boys. The Daddies were even worse.
When he’d walked into the conference room and seen Quinn Ryder and Craig Booker eyeing him curiously, he should have turned on his heel and walked out.
He should have run. Yeah, he didn’t want to work for Davie, but there were other cities, other security firms.
Now he was pinned to the bed by a sweet boy.
No, sweet was the last word to describe Kit.
Chaotic, yes. Needy, definitely. But not sweet.
Just the kind of boy Red loved. Davie had been the same at first, but years of working in the security industry had hardened him.
He wasn’t Red’s type now, but taking orders from his former boy was the last thing Red wanted to do.
And that’s why he should back away from this assignment. Other cities, remember? Red needed to protect his heart from being broken again.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Kit mumbled against his chest. “You woke me up with your thoughts.”
Red snorted. “What am I thinking?”
“You’re freaking out about being in bed with me and wondering whether you can run away.”
Red opened his mouth to deny it but closed it again without uttering a word. Kit was right, dammit.
Kit raised his head, resting his chin on Red’s chest. “Don’t run away.”
“Is that an order?”
Kit was silent for a moment. “A request…with a little bit of order thrown in.”
Red grunted and Kit laughed, rolling off Red who took a deep breath.
“What time is it?” Kit asked.
Now he was free, Red reached for his phone, blinking a little as the screen lit up. “It’s just after seven.”
Kit groaned. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s nearly lunchtime,” Red teased.
“Just because you get up at dark o’clock, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”
“I work and sleep all hours, kid.”
“I thought we’d gotten past calling me a kid.”
Red understood what he didn’t say, but ‘boy’ was a step too far, even if it did slip out occasionally.
He sat up and put his feet on the warm floor.
Underfloor heating was a wonderful thing.
From what he’d confided over their game of pool, Mo had built this cabin himself.
Before Joseph had come into his life, he was semi-retired.
Now he had a billionaire boy and managed two safe houses, with plans for another one close by.
Hell, he’d have a whole complex if he kept building.
Mo might have grumbled he should have stayed retired, but one look at his face when he held Joseph in his arms, told Red he didn’t mean a word of it.
“I’ll make coffee,” he said.
“And check all the windows and doors,” Kit teased.
“That too,” Red agreed. It would take more than gentle teasing about his habits to get a rise out of him.
He shuffled out of the bedroom, took one perimeter walk around the inside of the cabin, and headed into the bathroom.
“Hey, I was going there,” Kit yelled.
“I got there first.”
He heard Kit’s disgusted grunt and grinned.
Five minutes later, Kit was shut away in the bathroom, after Red had declined the offer of washing Kit’s back and anything else he wanted to. Red took the time to get dressed, then went into the kitchen to make coffee.
That was easier said than done as he glared at the coffee machine, arms folded, staring down at the appliance as if it had personally offended him.
The thing was a sleek monstrosity of chrome and blinking lights, all touch panels and tiny symbols that meant absolutely nothing.
He’d dealt with non-compliant clients and attempted kidnappings with less confusion.
Red jabbed a button. The machine beeped at him in a tone that felt smug.
“Don’t start,” he muttered.
He leaned closer, squinting at the display. Strength he had. Patience too, most days. But whatever idiot had designed this thing clearly assumed the user came equipped with a degree in computer science and a fondness for unnecessary menus.
For a split second, he considered waiting for Kit to come out and do it. The boy would smirk, make some crack about Red being ancient, probably take over with infuriating ease.
Not happening. Red was thirty-six, not eighty-six. He work out how to use a damn machine.
Red straightened, rolled his shoulders, and tried again—this time slower, reading every prompt like it was a threat assessment. He pressed one button. Then another. The machine whirred, paused, and finally began to grind.
Red watched it like it might change its mind.
A moment later, the blessed sound of brewing filled the kitchen. Dark liquid streamed into the carafe, rich and promising.
Red let out a quiet breath of victory. If Kit hadn’t been here, he would have done a victory dance.
By the time Kit emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair damp and cheeks flushed from the heat, Red had two cups on the counter and an expression that said this had all gone exactly according to plan.
No way was he admitting that the coffeemaker had almost beaten him.
“I had a bet you wouldn’t be able to start the machine,” Kit said, sounding amused.
“I nearly didn’t,” Red admitted sheepishly.
“I’ve got a similar one in my condo.”
Of course he had.
“I never use it,” Kit confessed. “It’s quicker to go to the coffee shop and the coffee’s better than I buy.”
Red felt marginally better. He had a feeling Joseph had provided this machine. Maybe he could ask Mo for something less like the inside of an airplane cockpit.
Kit took a sip of the coffee and made an obscene moan. “Mmm, this tastes good.”
“Mo’s boy is notorious for providing great coffee,” Red said, trying to ignore the effect that moan had on his dick, especially as Kit was semi-naked. “Go get dressed.”
Kit flashed him a smirk, but to his relief, put his cup on the counter and disappeared into the bedroom.
He took a long swallow of his coffee as a distraction and had to admit, the coffee deserved a moan of pleasure.
A few minutes later Kit returned, dressed in a T-shirt and sweats Mo had bought for him, and picked up his cup.
He regarded Red over the rim of his cup. “You talk like you know Joseph,” he said, picking up their previous conversation.
“I do,” Red said, detecting an edge to Kit’s voice. “I was part of his detail when he was with Monaghan, and I met him again recently when Mo interviewed me for a job.”
“You weren’t interested in him?”
Red blinked. “Joseph?”
“Yes. He’s a billionaire.”
“He’s a nightmare. Rude, non-compliant. Always trying to ditch us. Mo must have the patience of a saint. Monaghan handed him over to CDR with relief.”
“But he’s not your kind of boy?”
Red thought about it for a moment. “I like boys with sass. I’m not into sweet and submissive. I like a challenge. But Joseph doesn’t do anything for me.”
Kit eyed him for a long moment. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, why?” Red wondered where Kit was going with this. There was an agenda, Kit just wasn’t sure what it was.
“No reason.”
Red fixed Kit with a stern look. “Bull. Talk to me. Why are you giving me the third degree about Mo’s boy?”
Kit huffed into his cup. “I wanted to know if you had your eyes on a boy.”
“Even if I did, I’d never try and take another Daddy’s boy.”
“Like what happened to you,” Kit said softly.
Red gave a curt nod, feeling the familiar tightness in his chest that always occurred when he thought about the day Davie walked out on him into the arms of his best friend.
“It must have been hard, seeing Davie again.”
Red stared unseeing as he remembered Mike Monaghan introducing Davie to the team as his second in command.
Davie’s smile thinned as he laid eyes on Red.
That was the moment Red knew his time at Monaghan’s was over.
He didn’t trust Davie not to make his life a living hell.
He handed in his notice at the end of the meeting and walked out the door, wondering what the hell he was going to do next.
He had savings but they wouldn’t last forever.
It was Aaron who’d suggested he try CDR. He knew Mo and some of the other Biker Daddy Bodyguards.
He flinched as he felt a sharp scratch. He looked down to see blood on his hand.
“You broke the handle,” Kit said, taking the cup and handle out of Red’s hands.
“I didn’t notice,” Red admitted.
Kit led him over to the sink and washed away the blood. “It’s just a small cut.”
He pressed a paper towel against it. It stung, but Kit was right, it was barely bleeding now.
“It’ll be fine,” Red agreed. “It doesn’t need a bandage. I’ll find an antiseptic wipe.”
Still holding his hands, Kit looked at him. “I’m sorry, Red. I didn’t mean to remind you of unhappy memories.”
“What was all that about?” Red demanded.
“I was jealous.”