Fierce Daddy Read online

  “And leave you?” She couldn’t do that. “What if Bert comes back?”

  Cat shook her head. “I’ll be fine now, my Papi is close.”

  It was sweet how close she was to her dad. Tabby’s father had been kind but distant. For most of her life, he’d been ill and her mother had spent all her time taking care of him.

  “I’ve put my details into your phone. Text me if you ever need anything. I mean it. I owe you. And I mean more than just for breakfast.”

  Tabby shook her head, feeling shocked. “You don’t owe me anything.” She reached into her pack and pulled out some cash. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, if you’re here when they come, then my Papi will probably take you too.”

  “T-take me?”

  Cat grinned at her. “You’re smart, brave, and beautiful. I love my Papi, but he’s arrogant and thinks he’s always right. He’ll take you and convince himself it’s for your own good. That he’s saving you.”

  “He c-can’t just take me.” Right? That sort of thing didn’t happen. Except, Tabby knew better than most how many secret deals went down in the bowels of the underground. Where women were a commodity to be bartered. Where their wishes weren’t respected.

  Suddenly, she was worried for Cat.

  “You can come with me. If you need a safe place, I can give you one.”

  Cat watched her with those amazing eyes. “You’re a good person, Tabby. Maybe the best person I’ve ever met. But don’t worry about me. I’m a survivor. Plus, I have Papi wrapped around my little finger. I’m terribly spoiled. I’m safe with him. I was only kidnapped because I went against orders.” Cat grimaced. “I’ll catch hell for that.”

  “Will he hurt you?”

  “Nah, he’d never hurt me. He’ll bluster a bit, though. But mostly, he’ll be grateful I’m all right. Go now. And thank you. Really.”

  Tabby nodded and slid out of the booth, grabbing her phone and putting it away in her pack. “It was good to meet you, Cat.”

  “You too, Tabby. Be safe. No more jogging in the dark, huh?”

  “No more getting kidnapped, hey?” Tabby replied back.

  Cat grinned. “No promises.”

  Tabby couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. Then she made her way out of the diner. She felt surprisingly sad as she walked towards her apartment. As though she’d lost a friend. Which was silly, since she just met Cat.

  They weren’t friends. And it was a show of how sad and lonely she was that helping a kidnapping victim was pretty much the highlight of her life.

  “You’ve got to do something about this, Tabby,” she muttered.

  When she was a block away from the diner, she drew out her phone. There was no evidence of any strange calls or texts. But in her contacts list, she found Cat’s number.

  Tabby walked past the grocery store, then she stopped. For the past two weeks, she’d been living on frozen meals and take-out.

  She was tired of it. She’d never learned to cook. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t learn now. After all, she only had time on her hands.

  After heading to her apartment, and showering, she started researching recipes on her tablet.

  Coq au vin. She’d had that before a few times. It couldn’t be too hard to make. After writing down the ingredients, as well as looking up some smoothie recipes, she had a list to go shopping with. She’d spotted a blender in the well-stocked kitchen, so she didn’t have to get a new one for the smoothies she planned to make each morning.

  Maybe she’d found her passion in life. Perhaps she could become a chef. She loved to eat. She loved food. So becoming a chef could be perfect for her.

  Wouldn’t that be something?

  2

  Life wasn’t looking up.

  Life was disastrous.

  Leaning over the toilet, she threw up. Except she’d long since emptied her stomach, so all that was left was bile.

  Groaning, she lay on her back on the floor.

  She was dying.

  This was it.

  She was going to die lying on a bathroom floor. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take too long for someone to find her. She didn’t want to be too gross and decomposed. It would be nice to have an open coffin for the three people who would come to her funeral.

  Jared and whichever two bodyguards were with him.

  Oh Lord, her life was pathetic.

  She was pathetic.

  Is this what her life had come to? Dying, alone, on a dirty bathroom floor?

  Well, the floor wasn’t dirty because she had plenty of free time on her hands, and most of that was spent cleaning, jogging, or watching Scooby-Doo reruns.

  She loved Scooby-Doo. What would he do right now?

  Probably moan and groan about how sick he was. So they had that in common. If there was anyone around to listen, she’d be complaining right now.

  Why did she think she could cook? And why hadn’t she started with something simpler? Obviously, chicken was out. She hated chicken. She was never going to eat chicken again.

  And she needed to stop thinking about chicken because yep, there went her stomach again. After vomiting this time, she waited ten minutes then decided to risk brushing her teeth. Managing to stand wasn’t that easy and by the time she stumbled into bed, she was exhausted. She wanted to take a shower, to change her pajamas and her sheets, but she couldn’t do anything except grab Snappy, her stuffed turtle, and curl up into a miserable ball.

  Her head throbbed, and she knew she had to drink something because she was getting dehydrated, but the thought of getting back up made her cry.

  This sucked.

  This sucked so bad.

  It sucked so much that she almost considered calling her cousin. Just for a moment. But this was the excuse he was looking for to drag her back to his house. Sure, it would be good for the immediate future. One of the house staff would take care of her. But once she got better, he wouldn’t let her leave again. And she’d fought hard for her freedom.

  A bit of food poisoning wasn’t going to take that away from her.

  She simply needed to ride this out. She could do it. If Luther didn’t break her, then neither would this.

  But it would be nice to have someone rub her back, bring her water, and help her get to the bathroom.

  She closed her eyes. Yeah, her life needed a rethink. She couldn’t go on like this. Sure, it had only been a week since she’d left Jared’s, but what had she actually achieved? Nothing. She sat in her apartment and watched TV or did puzzles. She went out jogging. Cat was the first person she’d talked to.

  This wasn’t living. She might as well go back to Jared’s for all the fun she was having. Only she had no idea how to turn her life around. All she knew was that she was lonely. She wanted someone she could call if she was sick and they’d worry over her. She wanted someone who’d be there if she was scared or angry or worried. She wanted to have more than three people at her funeral when she died.

  But how did you go about meeting people? She wasn’t looking for a relationship. She definitely wasn’t signing up for one of those online dating services. Jared would have a fit. Which was actually a point in favor of signing up.

  But no, that just scared her. Maybe she could join a club? But what? And how? And would she even be able to talk to people? Talking to people wasn’t one of her skills.

  Did she have any skills? Nope. Could she get a job?

  Maybe her career as a chef was over. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do something else. Snuggling Snappy tight, she closed her eyes and decided she’d figure something out once she was feeling better.

  It was Saturday afternoon before Tabby felt well enough to get out of bed. Carefully making her way downstairs, she grabbed some Gatorade from the kitchen then sat on the couch. The ground floor level was an oversized garage, easily big enough to fit eight vehicles. Upstairs was a loft-style apartment. There was an open-plan living area with spiral stairs leading to a level with three bedrooms, each with an at
tached bathroom. It was way too big for one person.

  Switching on the television, she managed to find a cartoon she liked watching. It wasn’t Scooby-Doo, but it would do.

  Then she picked up her phone. Urgh. Dead. She hoped Jared hadn’t texted. After plugging it in to charge, she grabbed her laptop.

  She thought she had figured out what she needed to do. She had to get a job. That would help her meet people, right? Perhaps she could even make some friends.

  Having people you care about is dangerous, Tabby. They could be used against you.

  She remembered her mother giving her that advice when she was just seven and wanted to go to her best friend’s house for a sleepover.

  Jared had bought this place for her. He’d insisted on installing a shitload of security as well. It was the first time she’d ever lived on her own. There wasn’t anyone around to dictate to her, to watch her.

  To hurt her.

  Nobody was going to hurt her again.

  She looked through the job ads. It was useless, though. She had no qualifications or experience. Feeling completely dejected, she closed the laptop and picked up her phone.

  Jared could help. But he likely wouldn’t. He didn’t want to make it easier for her to stay here. He wanted her back home, where he could keep an eye on her.

  His words. Not hers.

  What he’d really do was smother her.

  Besides, she’d prefer to get a job on her own.

  But how was she meant to do that when she had no skills and didn’t know anyone?

  That’s not quite true, though, is it?

  Scrolling through her phone, she brought up Millie’s number. The woman who Luther had wanted to destroy. Who Tabby had helped save.

  She closed her eyes briefly. But what would she say? Not like she could just call her up and ask to be her friend. Or if she knew of any jobs.

  But what else was she to do?

  Everything she had, Jared had paid for. To get out from under his well-meaning protection, she needed money.

  Sighing, she grabbed her purse and reached inside for the card she’d kept there for all these months. It was worn, almost smudged.

  On the front was an image of a motorcycle. She didn’t know her bikes at all. But it was gorgeous.

  Montana Custom Bikes.

  Pretty simple name. And there in the corner was his name. Owner: Razor Samuels.

  There was a phone number, probably for the shop. But on the back of the card, he’d scrawled his personal cell phone number. She’d looked at this card so often, had dreamed of calling him.

  She’d never dared to, though.

  Going online, she looked up the website listed. Wow, the bikes he built were gorgeous. She clicked on the profile page and scrolled down. Maybe she should get a bike. That could be fun, right?

  Then she spotted it.

  Help Wanted. Looking for someone to work the front desk. Must be reliable with good customer service skills. Knowledge of motorbikes a bonus, but not necessary. All training provided.

  Could she?

  It was a stupid idea, right? She had no training. She could be terrible. And he knew who she was. That she was Jared Bartolli’s cousin.

  He wouldn’t want her working for him.

  So what’s the worst that can happen? He says no? Not like you ever have to see him again.

  And he might just say yes. Likely out of pity. But a pity job was still a job, right? Lord, she didn’t know if it was a smart or stupid thing to do. However, if she didn’t try, she’d never find out.

  Monday morning, she pulled up out front of the garage.

  Shit.

  She could tell this wasn’t the best area. Why would he set up shop here? It was obvious that his custom bikes sold for a lot. She remembered Luther talked about buying a bike once, and he’d went on and on about how much it was going to cost.

  Of course, if he’d spent less money on booze and drugs, he’d probably have been able to afford it.

  Asshole. She tightened her hands around the steering wheel of the BMW SUV that Jared had given her.

  Luther was gone now. He wasn’t coming back.

  Stepping out of the car, she took another look around. Graffiti covered the building across the street, it badly needed a coat of paint. In comparison, the garage she was sitting in front of looked crisp and clean. There was a large wrought-iron gate that had been pulled back, letting people drive right up to the office that was in front of the building.

  But she parked on the road, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself.

  Whether her car would be in one piece when she came back out, she wasn’t sure. But Jared would have insurance, right?

  Moving towards the shop, she heard someone let out a low wolf whistle. Her shoulders tightened.

  “Hey, there, sweet thing,” a voice called out. “You need help? Because I’d be happy to give you some.”

  She glanced to her right as a heavily-tattooed man with a shaved head leered at her. He appeared to be cleaning something mechanical. Oh Lord, how could she expect to work here? She hesitated.

  The man continued to leer, making her stomach tie up in knots.

  “Tommy, shut up, asshole.” Another man stepped out of the garage, which was set up with six bays. All of the doors were pulled up except for one.

  “What?” Tommy snarled, staring at the other man. “You’re not the fucking boss of me. A fine piece of ass walks along and I’m gonna admire it. She likes it, don’t ya?”

  Did he really expect her to agree with him? She glared at him. His eyes were too close together and his nose was overly large. He looked like a weasel.

  Then she turned her gaze to the man who had come to her defense. Her mouth went dry. This guy, he was terrifying. She’d be lucky to reach the top of his shoulders. And those shoulders were broad. He had his blond hair pulled back. Tattoos covered his arms and went up his neck. He had a thick beard.

  “Yeah? You want to explain to Razor why you ran off a customer with the bullshit that just came out of your mouth?”

  Weasel gave the other guy a sullen look. Wait, that wasn’t a good name for him. Weasel breath. Weasel jerk.

  Weasel dick.

  Ah, perfect.

  “I suppose you’re gonna go tell him, huh?” Weasel Dick whined.

  “I’m no rat,” the other man growled, before turning his dark gaze to her.

  Tabby resisted the urge to turn and walk away. This wasn’t exactly a great beginning to her quest for financial freedom. Her insides were trembling, but she knew better than to let on how scared she was.

  Men like Weasel Dick fed on fear. You couldn’t ever show them weakness.

  “You looking for a bike for your old man?” her rescuer asked.

  That was a bit insulting, assuming that she wasn’t after one for herself, but Tabby didn’t point that out. Because she wasn’t actually looking to buy a bike. She couldn’t afford one. Well, the credit card Jared had forced on her probably had no limit, so technically, she could.

  But he’d have kittens if he discovered she’d bought a motorcycle.

  Hm. Might be worth it just to see the look on his face.

  “Actually, I’m here to see Razor. Do you know if he’s around?” She hoped he was because she wasn’t certain she could work up the courage to come back.

  The big guy raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

  “I’ve met him before.”

  “Oh, I bet you’ve met him,” Weasel Dick said slimily, looking her up and down then licking his lips.

  What. A. Dick.

  “That lucky bastard. Don’t know what you see in him, but you need to try some younger dick. We get it up quicker and it stays up longer.”

  “What the fuck did you just say?” the big guy boomed before he slapped Weasel Dick around the back of his head. Then he shoved him.

  Tabby was used to violence. She’d seen it, she’d experienced it.

  But she still didn’t like it. Taking a step b
ack, she moved her gaze from one man to the other, watching worriedly.

  “Sav! Tommy! Everything okay out here?” a firm voice called out.

  And there he was. Tall and broad. His dark beard had some gray in it, but that just added to the gorgeousness that was Razor Samuels.

  Butterflies flew through her tummy. Could she do this? Speak to him? Ask him for a job? See him on a day-to-day basis? Hell, she was practically tongue-tied.

  She didn’t know what it was about him. He was twenty years older than she was. Maybe more. Old enough to be her father. That should turn her off, right?

  But it didn’t. Oh no, not in the slightest.

  He was sex on two legs. But even more appealing than his looks, was his calm, confident manner. She’d only spent a few hours with him, but he’d made her feel safe. For someone who had rarely felt that in her life, it was priceless.

  “Everything’s fine. Tommy just needs to remember how to speak to a client,” Sav told Razor with a scowl.

  She thought Tommy needed to remember how to speak to other people, period. But she didn’t say anything.

  None of your business, Tabby.

  “We’ve talked about this, Tommy,” Razor said in a cold voice. “Do we need another chat?”

  “No, boss, I’m good. Sorry, missus.”

  She didn’t think he was at all sincere, but she nodded. If she was lucky enough to get this job, then she’d have to work with Weasel Dick.

  Maybe she should rethink this idea.

  No. She could do this. She had thick enough skin to put up with some sexist comments. As long as he didn’t try to touch her.

  “Hey, I’m Razor, the owner. Can I help you?” he asked politely, his southern drawl faint.

  Oh, great, he didn’t recognize her. Her stomach dropped.

  “Thought you knew each other,” Sav said. What kind of name was Sav? A name like Razor, she guessed.

  “Oh, well, I, um . . .”

  Razor studied her, frowning. “Do I know you?”

  Then she realized she had on her big sunglasses. She liked to hide behind them, but she couldn’t expect him to recognize her all these months later with them on. So she slipped them up onto her head. She thought she heard Tommy mutter something, but Sav said something to him and it shut Weasel Dick up.