Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

His gaze immediately took in the scene then moved down to Corey who was starting to swear up a storm as the bouncer grabbed him, picking him up and holding his arms behind him.

“You fucking bitch. You fucking tasered me. I’m gonna mess you the fuck up. I’m gonna lay you out. Fucking mess you up inside then I’ll put a fucking bullet in your brain.” She tuned him out before his words could truly terrify her. Well, terrify her even more than she even was.

“What. The. Fuck.”

She spun at those words, spoken in a voice she recognized and met a pair of

furious eyes.

Uh-oh.

Spike was so angry he was nearly shaking.

At least he told himself it was pure anger. And nothing to do with fear. But he figured he might just be lying as he listened to the asshole spouting off shit at Millie. Unable to take any more without losing it, he stormed up to him, grabbed him by his ratty wife beater and smashed his fist into his face, knocking him out cold. The bouncer let go of him as he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

“Well, that was one way to take care of things,” Steele drawled. To anyone who didn’t know him, he likely sounded relaxed and uncaring. But Spike knew differently. He was pissed. Somebody had fucked up by letting this guy in here. And that someone was going to be subjected to Steele’s wrath. It wouldn’t be pretty. He turned to the bouncer. “Take him into the back room and stay with him there until we decide what to do with him. Actually, get Jerry to watch him. You go back out front.”

The bouncer nodded and grabbed the asshole by the feet, dragging him out, uncaring if his head hit anything on the way out.

Steele turned to Grady. “Find Mitchell. I want to know how he got in here.”

Grady nodded and disappeared. Mitchell was the club manager. He was in for a rough time from Grady and Steele. Neither accepted failure.

Steele turned to the three women. The two strippers huddled together against a table. Millie stood slightly in front of them. As though protecting them. She watched Steele with guarded eyes. Her gaze seemed assessing. It surprised him. But that look cleared from her face almost as quickly as it had come.

She smiled as she looked over at him. Was she insane? She’d just tasered some asshole who was now out for her blood. What reason could she possibly have to smile?

“Spike, I’m so glad to see you. What are you doing here?”

What was he doing here? He was pretty certain he should be asking her that.

“So you two do know each other?” Steele asked him.

Millie turned to Steele. “We met last night. Who are you?”

“That’s Mr. Steele,” one of the strippers told her. The one with bright, red hair. “He owns this place.”

“Mr. Steele? Oh good. I need to talk to you. Do the two of you know each other?” Her gaze slid between him and Spike. “Because that will make things easier.”

“I’ll be happy to have a chat with you, Miss?” Steele said smoothly.

“Just call me Millie.”

Steele smiled. And instead of looking like a shark’s grin it was almost gentle. Spike found himself frowning at him. He better not get any ideas about her. She wasn’t his type anyway. Then again, she wasn’t Spike’s type either, but that hadn’t stopped him from worrying about her all night. From wishing he’d swung her over his shoulder and taken her home himself.

Fuck.

“First, though, I need to take care of this problem. Is that all right?”

“Oh yes. Of course.” Millie frowned. “I’m surprised that horrible man was allowed entrance. He didn’t even have a proper shirt on.”

“Indeed,” Steele drawled. “He did not. And be assured he won’t be allowed entrance again.” His sharp glance went to the two women. “Tawny? Chardonnay? Are you both all right?”

Both women nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Steele,” the dark-skinned girl said, her eyes wide. She was rubbing at her arm. Where the asshole grabbed her? Had he come in here for her?

“I take it you know him?” Steele asked her.