Mac (Mountain Men 2)

She smiles. “That’s sweet.” She shakes her head. “But that isn’t the kind of strict he was.”

I wince. I shouldn’t feel sympathy for her, but goddamn, being the daughter of Banner Aitkens…

“Ah, he’s one of those.”

She sighs. “Yeah, one of those.”

“Do you get along?”

A shadow crosses her features for a moment. She shrugs. “Not really. But I don’t much care, either.”

“Guess we both have daddy issues.”

She snickers. “Aye.”

She’s indifferent to him, then. Does he care if something happens to her? He’d better. The whole crux of my plan is based on that. It isn't revenge at all if he doesn't care about her.

And maybe it's weak to admit, but a little part of me hopes that he doesn't care about her. Then I’d have an excuse to ditch my plan.

The way she fiddles with the hem of her dress makes me wonder if she’s scared of him. Of course she is. Anyone who knows Aitkens would be.

Jesus.

We’re only ten minutes away from the restaurant. She sits so close to me, her knee is just inches away from my hand. I let my hand fall to the side, closer to her leg, and gently brush one finger along her knee.

“You’re so soft,” I whisper. She shivers, and sidles a bit closer to me. Her legs part. Jesus.

“Thank you,” she says. “Though sadly, I train hard at the gym to avoid being soft, and it sounds like I’ve fucked that up.”

I chuckle and trace the outline of her knee with my finger while I take the road to the restaurant.

“I mean your skin,” I say softly. “Feels like silk.”

“Oh, does it?” she whispers back. “I think it’s especially soft by my…” she’s breathing rapidly, “inner thighs.”

I place my palm on her thigh and let my thumb casually slide to the warmth of her inner thigh.

“Christ,” I mutter. God, what I would do to her. I glance in my rearview mirror, and notice two bright headlights following behind me.

“Is he following us?” she whispers.

I nod. “Aye.”

“He’s an arsehole,” she whispers again. “Likes to boss me around like it’s the fucking Dark Ages.” She leans in closer to me, her hand on my thigh now, and mine on hers.

“Does he?” I shake my head. “Bloody eejit. Ought to be beaten for that.”

“Mmm,” she whispers, her legs parting. “I don’t know why it turns me on, the idea of you going all caveman Alpha for me like that… I just said I don’t like violence, too.”

Maybe because she’s never had anyone to look out for her. To protect her.

“Something tells me, Bryn, that you are fully capable of watching out for yourself.”

She nods, and swallows, as I switch lanes. I’m going to lose her bodyguard, and soon.

“I am,” she whispers, as I run my thumb along her inner thigh again.

“But tell me this, love,” I say softly. “Do you like the idea of someone taking care of you? You can have both, you know. You can be fully independent, take full care of yourself, and still enjoy it when someone else looks out for you.”

Her father treats her like a commodity. He protects her the way he protects a rare gem. Sets guards up around it and will kill anyone who comes near.

She shrugs. “I don’t know, Mac. I’d have to think on it. But if that person was you?” She smiles. “I may need less time to think.”

I can’t help but chuckle at that. Fucking adorable.

“So let’s ditch that bodyguard.”

She grins. “Let’s so ditch him.”

She's buckled in, and I trust myself to drive carefully, to not hurt her. I've been in a chase more than once when we needed to make a quick getaway. I'm always the one that drives. Adrenaline courses through me at the knowledge that we're about to take a joyride.

I look again through my rearview mirror. He's new, I remember being told. He doesn't know the city the way I do.

We’re coming up to a hairpin turn, and anyone who takes it too fast, or doesn't prepare for the sudden change, can easily lose control of the vehicle. Following this turn is a second one. I could have the guy go right off the cliff if I wanted to. I don't, I just need to lose him.

I turn the wheel so fast, for a split second we’re only on two wheels. Bryn gasps but doesn’t scream, and her hand on my leg tightens.

I can see her bodyguard gesturing at us, as his car can’t keep up with the swift and sudden change. Next, I drive up a small slope, then down again. I can see him behind us, but he’s now a fair distance away. If I plan this right, I’ll lose him at the next turn.

I take a sudden, short turn, tires squealing on pavement, when another car comes round the bend on its way toward us, just as we hit the main intersection. I jet in front of him, thankful for the quick and easy pick-up. Horns blare as we hear the screech of the car behind us stopping short, a natural barrier between us and her bodyguard. There’s a blast of a horn behind us, her bodyguard likely pissed.