Protector Daddy (MC Daddies 3)

“What is it?” Mr. Steele asked in the voice of a man who was used to reoccurring fires, but was running out of water to dampen them.

“Asshole has a very distinctive tattoo on his inner forearm.”

“Oh, the devil one?” she asked. She’d noticed that.

Both Spike and Mr. Steele turned to look at her. Mr. Steele looked thoughtful; Spike looked angry. But she was starting to wonder if that was normal. Some people had resting bitch face. Spike had resting grouch face.

“Yeah, he’s a member of the Devil’s Sinners. And pretty sure when he wakes up, he’s gonna be gunning for her blood.”

Uh-oh.

8

Millie looked around the long room in interest. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Well, she wasn’t sure what to expect and really, she shouldn’t make assumptions about someone without meeting them.

Just because he owned a strip club didn’t make Mr. Steele a bad man. Of course that guy that tried to rob her the other night had implied he was a gang leader. Well, she’d just come to her own conclusions. But so far, he seemed nice.

At least he was talking to her. Unlike the grumpy hulk standing in the corner, glaring at her.

“This is nice. Not at all what I’d expect to find in a strip club.”

She’d been trying to get Spike to speak ever since Mr. Steele had asked her to kindly wait upstairs for him.

Kindly wait.

So polite. Definitely not what she’d expected.

Spike didn’t react at all. She sighed. As though sensing her mood, Mr. Fluffy looked up from where he was sitting in her arms and yawned. He really was a lazy thing.

After she’d repacked her stuff downstairs, Spike had snatched her handbag out of her hands and escorted her up here.

And when she said escort, she meant he grabbed her wrist and practically dragged her beside him. She’d had to jog to keep up.

Remember her opinion on running? It hadn’t improved any. And running upstairs? Even worse.

“Not that I’ve been in many strip clubs, of course. Well, none actually. Still, I’m sure few are as nice as this.”

You’re rambling, Millie.

Well, he was making her so nervous just staring at her like that.

“Do you think Mr. Steele will mind if I let Mr. Fluffy down?”

“Mr. Steele doesn’t mind at all, sweetheart.” She whirled, one hand resting on her heart.

Mr. Fluffy let out another exaggerated yawn. She had a feeling he wasn’t going to be much of a guard dog.

Mr. Steele gave him a slightly skeptical look which belied his words. “Is he toilet-trained?”

“Oh, he’s pretty good,” she said vaguely. She placed him down, hoping he didn’t make a mess. “Do you have any newspapers by chance?”

Mr. Steele gave her a slightly horrified look. She swore Spike snorted but when she looked over at him, he was still glaring at her. Huh.

“Here you are.” Mr. Steele handed over some newspapers.

“Thank you, Mr. Steele.”

He gave her a strange look. “Please, call me Damon.”