He Who Is a Protector (Sadik Book 3)

by Love Belvin

  He mumbled eerily, “Russians are in the States, too, my love.”

  His incessant babbling had me glancing up from my book to check in on him again. Sadik’s eyes were fixed to the hanging fixtures over his beach playpen. He was engaged in heavy conversation with them.

  I leaned over the pen. “Hey,” I smiled. “I wish you’d talk to me like that.” After processing my presence, his smile widened even more. “Hi, baby boy! Are you enjoying the beach? I told you, you would.”

  The weather was perfect to have him out here. I feared the temperature would be too hot, but his father assured he’d be fine underneath the tree, a shade, and another small covering his playpen built for the beach featured. Sadik had been a well-behaved baby out here. He’d even been awake the entire hour and a half or so we’d been at the water.

  So lost in the joy of my baby, I didn’t see Rory until she was upon us. She didn’t speak either. Her short frame looked awkward in a tank with Bob Marley’s face on the front and denim Bermuda shorts ducked beneath the umbrella. Her ears were plugged with buds and she held her phone in her hand. Her natural hair was braided back into a ponytail, making me wonder who did it. Per usual, Rory looked like a twelve-year-old boy.

  “S.Q.E., II!” she chirped. “You out here chillin’, lil’ god? I can’t wait to get you in that water…teach you how to dunk niggas in there.” She gently yanked on his toe. Her smiled dwarfed into a grin. “I can’t believe how big you gettin’. And ya ass still awake. That’s what’s up, king.”

  And I couldn’t believe the love and adoration in her voice as she studied him from behind her sunglasses. She didn’t address or acknowledge me as she adulated over my son.

  “Rory,” I called out to her, closing my book. She eased back from her knees to stand, returning to her guarded posture toward me. “you don’t see me sitting right next to him? I don’t see how not: I’m a whole fifteen pounds heavier than I was when you met and decided not to like me.”

  Rory rolled her head away, whispering a string of expletives.

  “Why don’t you like me? You’ve been spending more time with me than Sadik over the past eight months. His son has been here only two of them, and I still haven’t had half the warmth he has from you. And not to mention, you’ve known Tiffany a lot longer, leaving me in between her and my son. I just don’t know how to win you over.”

  “B,” she groaned, hands going to her head. “why you always gotta fuck with me?”

  Shocked by her disposition, I gasped, holding in a budding laugh. “Me? How?”

  “You keep talking ‘bout I ‘on’t like you—”

  “You don’t!” I finally released some of the humor.

  Rory expressed no amusement at all. “But I fucks with you like every day.”

  “How?”

  “When I’m driving ya mean ass all around!”

  “Because you’re paid to, Rory!”

  Sadik began to cry.

  Her arm tossed his way. “See, you fuckin’ up lil’ man’s vibe, too.”

  I reached over and lifted Sadik from the playpen. “Don’t worry, baby,” I told him. “Mommy’s used to this reception from her.”

  “Here the fuck you go!” she croaked, dropping onto the lounger next to me. “Why you always gotta fuck with me, B?”

  “Because that’s the only time I get ‘color’ from you.” I rocked Sadik over my shoulder to calm him.

  “What?” She shook her head like a male child. “I ‘on’t even know what the fuck that mean.”

  “It means you’re mean to me, if anything.”

  For seconds long, Rory didn’t respond. She gazed out to the water and I settled Sadik down. I grabbed a fresh diaper and wipes to change him. So used to having Rory around mutedly, I’d forgotten she was there momentarily.

  That was until she murmured, “Don’t be sayin’ shit like that around them, B.”

  My eyes widened. “Who?”

  “Them,” she croaked. “The S.Q.E.s.”

  “So just live with the fact that you don’t like me.” I nodded, lips pouted. “Okay.”

  “Hell no! That ain’t even true. That’s why I’m saying don’t say it.”

  “How isn’t it true, Rory?”

  “You know that shit ain’t true, B. You and me both know if you thought I ain’t fuck with you, my ass woulda been fired. That nigga don’t play that shit.” The grouse in her words concerned me.

  “You think Sadik would fire you if we didn’t get along?”

  Rory chuckled, palms rubbing against her thighs. “I woulda been outta here before Lamont’s ass got clipped. You ‘on’t see how open my G is?”

  I nodded. “I think I have an idea, but that has nothing to do with you not liking me. Okay, I’m guessing you’re dispelling my belief of you not liking me. Fine. But Rory, I know nothing about you.”

  “Shit…” She scoffed and began counting off on her fingers. “You know the shit I like to eat, the brand of cigs I burn, where I live…where I work. All that shit, and you claiming you ‘on’t know me?”

  “What’s your real name?” I challenged.

  Rory turned for the water again as I finished up on the baby’s diaper change and went to lather him up again with sunscreen. “Rahdeah Smith,” she muttered.

  My eyes blossomed again. “Where does Rory come from?”

  She shrugged, still facing away. “My uncle raised me. He said I looked like a fuckin’ gnome.”

  I sputtered a laugh, glad she didn’t catch it. “How did you meet Sadik?”

  Another pause before she muttered, “Iban.”

  “Iban introduced you?” My body froze over the playpen when I reached in for his pacifier. Rory nodded. “How? When?”

  “Back in the day. We was in a…probation program together. He saw me fight one night, then introduced me to his pops for work. S.Q.E. was there.” Her forehead gestured to the water. “And when his pops passed on hiring me as a driver, S.Q.E. had other plans for me.”

  That was sobering. I knew Iban had a history in the penal system; he’d been convicted of murder. I could never forget the gory details in that search of him I did last summer in Macen Beach.

  But Rory?

  “What were you on probation for?”

  “Shit.” She spat into the sand and quickly swept sand over it with her foot.

  “What type of shi—”

  My words were lost at the rapid, shifting sight of watching him wade through the water for the shore. Water cascaded from his golden skin. His sculpted arms bunched into ropes as he wiped his face clear of it. His trunks were so low; they exposed his swollen abdominal oblique muscle. His sex appeal was a moving spirit, tickling my senses to awaken me for his coming presence.

  “Look at ya ass,” Rory snickered. “You be frontin’ like that nigga ain’t got yo head split the fuck open, too.” My face folded. “Look at you! You rubbing ya lips!” She roared in laughter.

  I couldn’t help my eye roll. Before I could think of a snarky rebuttal, Sadik was upon us. He reached for a towel and rubbed it into his head. I watched with rapt interest as he dried himself off from his chest to his waist. Then I watched as his abdomen crunched when he bent over to clasp the baby’s hand.

  “Oh, you’re just in time.” I fixed a smile. “Rory was just about to tell me how you two met.”

  Sadik’s mirthful expression dropped and he glanced over to Rory.

  Rory quickly turned back for the water.

  Sadik turned back to the baby and me. “Oh, yeah?” he asked before kissing the baby’s feet. “Everything set up for this evening, Rory?”

  Rory stood to her feet. “You know it.” Then she took off, short legs, kicking up sand in her departure.

  Interesting…

  The baby started to fuss, snatching my attention.

  “Oh, no!” I groaned. “What’s the matter?”

  When I holstered him in my arm to my chest, his father took him. “Sadik,” his commanding alto lacked the silkiness I’d come
to love. But it included a feature almost equally pleasing. “Hey,” he called out to him again over the baby’s cry as he tried catching his eyes. “Sadik!” My lover upped the authoritative bass found in a father’s warning. “Where’s his hat?” I searched through the bag and pulled out his little fisherman’s hat.

  Sadik placed it on his head. “Text Camille and tell her he’s ready for a bottle and a nap.”

  “I can do that.”

  As he bounced the baby in his arm, Sadik shook his head. “I’ve got plans for you. Let her take care of him.”

  I sat back deflated. It wasn’t that I didn’t want alone time with him. I just hated parting from my baby. Torn, I watched the two Sadiks stroll down the beach. The senior eventually got the baby’s attention and then for him to stop fussing. Hesitantly and with obedience, I texted our “nanny,” Camille.

  How am I going to adjust to this new life of mine?

  ∞5∞

  “Alright.” I slammed the shot glass down, then gestured with my head toward her plate. “Another bite.”

  Bilan giggled, trying to hide her mouth behind her fist. “No,” she spoke around her food. “Now I feel bad.”

  I smiled. “Why?”

  “Because that was your third shot!”

  I shrugged with my eyebrows at the kitchen table in the villa. “I do what I gotta do.”

  She continued to laugh. “Just to get me to eat.” Bilan shook her head, feigning rebuke.

  “To encourage you to eat.” I winked. “And let’s not forget, you didn’t work out with me this morning.”

  Her expression fell as she swallowed the rest of the food in her mouth. “And do more plank jacks on the sand? How could I sleep through those?” With hiked brows and her eyes rolling away, she grabbed her glass, taking a sip of water.

  My smile widened, eyes narrowed. At first, I found her irresistible; now, I had to add hilarious to that growing list. “You’re so silly.” Bilan rolled her eyes, a smirk revealed in those high cheekbones. I glanced down to her plate at the leftover fajita from lunch she never finished. “Looks like…” I considered it. “Maybe two more bites left.”

  I poured two shot glasses and lined them up in front of me.

  Bilan gasped. “Oh, my god. Sadik!” She reached across the table.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I chuckled.

  “I feel bad. I’ll take these last two with you.”

  My forehead lifted in shock. “Really?”

  “I can’t have my baby’s daddy out here in these St. Justin streets drunk off the tequila by himself.”

  That shit warmed my chest more than the previous shots had. I watched her toss back another glass. When she finally got it all down, Bilan took another bite of the fajita. My eyes were locked onto her mouth as she chewed. I was pleased. This was a fun attempt at getting her to eat.

  “What are you thinking about?” I asked.

  “If Sadik’ll smell alcohol on me.”

  I shook my head. “It’ll be out of your system by the time we get back from our excursion. He may be knocked out by then anyway.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked with a mouth full of food, going for the bottle of tequila.

  “You’ll find out when we get there.”

  She refilled the glasses. “Do I need to press out my hair?”

  I shook my head. “Don’t waste your time.” Then I tossed my chin. “Looks like more than two to go. That last bite wasn’t big enough.”

  Bilan’s eyes rolled as her shoulders lifted in a giggle. “You did it again.”

  “What?”

  She pointed to my mouth. “That thing you do with your lips when you want me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your tongue swipes the inside of your bottom lip. It’s what you did the first time we met—I ran into you—at the diner.”

  “Did I?”

  She nodded. There was a pregnant pause before she went for her shot glass. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  I followed her actions and downed the tequila. When it cleared her throat, Bilan took another bite of her fajita. Finally, there was just one more left.

  As she chewed, she observed me. “I want to cook for you. Bake you something.” Her tongue rolled over her front teeth, a move to clear her mouth.

  “I would enjoy that.”

  “But…” She leaned into the table. “First, I want to ask you something.”

  My brows shot in the air again as I opened my palms over the table. “Ask away.”

  She took a drink of water, eyes never leaving me. She placed the glass down, eyes tightened. “How did you get into rope play.”

  Whoa…

  Because it could have been worse, I rebounded quickly, sitting up in the chair. Bilan went to pour our final shot.

  “An instructor.”

  “Instructor of…” she questioned.

  “Well, let me clarify. I told you how, as kids, my mother exposed me to all sorts of shit. I did horseback riding, wrestling, baseball, karate, football, boxing, and boating.”

  “Boating?”

  I nodded. “Eat the last of your food, baby.”

  Bilan’s eyes landed below on the mostly empty plate. She started for the last piece of fajita then cut for the shot. She acknowledged me before lifting it in the air and tossing it back. I did the same.

  “Now…boating?” she repeated. “That does require ropes.”

  “Yup. I didn’t take a particular liking to it, but I finished the courses my mother enrolled me in one spring and summer. The crazy thing was, I was great at anchoring.”

  “Why that?”

  I tossed my head in a shrug. “Likely because it was toward the end of each class, and I was ready to fuckin’ go.” I chuckled.

  Bilan found that funny, too.

  “Tying rope around the cleat, the dock lines, stern lines, spring lines, and tossing the anchor chain. I did all of that, and apparently well, making me comfortable with ropes: swinging…knots.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she appeared in deep thought. “I did peep how familiar you were when anchoring the boat after you went fishing for food in Antigua.”

  “Yeah. They let me do a little something, but I’m sure they went behind me to tighten up.”

  “Okay. Tying a boat at the dock doesn’t turn you into a bondage king,” she hinted to get on with the answer to her original question.

  But I needed a moment to crack the fuck up. Maybe it was the alcohol in me, that in her, or just experiencing Bilan’s sense of humor again, but I found her facial expression and words hilarious.

  She smiled widely. “C’mon. I wanna know!”

  “So, my…father got me a little job at a private pier, docking boats. It wasn’t close to home, and I’m sure the amount I earned from the job was far less than the expense of my commute there. But my parents were impressed with my attempt at responsibility. I eventually quit, bored with it once the temperature dropped late that fall. In Irene Ellis’ book, children must be engaged in extra-curricular activities—possibly more than one.”

  Bilan’s eyes widened, seemingly wrapped up in this story.

  “Ironically, my ‘agreed upon’ activity was aikido.”

  “What’s aikido?” she asked.

  “A form of martial arts. I’d done karate and collected a few belts. It didn’t suit me, but when only having a few things to choose from, I selected that one. My instructor was a cool guy. He was a little younger than my parents, white, and weird. I hated aikido, but stayed the process as long as I could.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “After five months, I told my mother I was done with it. I had to give a damn oral procès-verbal on why I wanted to quit. She eventually relented, but said I had to tell the instructor, Dan, myself.” I swung my head left to right while gesturing with my eyes. “No fuckin’ problem. The next day, I was driven to the school after class was due to end. I wanted to wait until I knew he was alone. I found him in the back. Through a cracked doo
r, I saw him tying his assistant, Reba, to a chair. She was breathing hard, legs spread, shirt open, and tits exposed.”

  “How did you know he wasn’t assaulting her?”

  I shook my head. “She bit her bottom lip and her eyes rolled to the back of her head.”

  Bilan’s mouth and eyes were wide as saucers. “So, you watched them?”

  I nodded. “A little, until she saw me. It took her a while to alert him because she was ordered not to speak.”

  “By whom?”

  “By him. It’s one of many practices in BDSM.”

  She pulled in a breath. “Is that what we’re—you into?”

  I snorted, amused by her curiosity. “No, baby. We’re not into BDSM. After that night, Dan and I communicated a bit after class—I stayed on a little while longer when I knew he’d teach me how to rope and tie a woman. It’s what they in that community call bondage. Dan was into BDSM. My desires didn’t take me that far.”

  “How old were you?”

  “About fifteen/sixteen.”

  “Why wouldn’t a fifteen/sixteen-year-old boy get freaked out over seeing a woman panting and squirming in ropes?”

  “Because I’m nasty, Nalib.” I found myself licking my lips, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

  “Oh,” she scoffed. “I know you are.”

  My head softly rolled left to right, infinitesimal movements. “You’ve only scratched the surface.” I couldn’t explain any further the depth of my sexual desires. However, she’d soon learn because I’d demonstrate each banked one on and with her. Almost as though she had a clue of my thoughts, Bilan’s eyes fell to her lap. My phone vibrated a message from Rory. “C’mon, I want to show you something.”

  “Am I going to miss my baby?”

  I stood from the table. “I promise to try and distract that longing.”

  The roads were bumpy the closer we approached our destination. I filled in the entire, close to thirty-minute ride typing drafts to return emails once I got back to the villa with Wi-Fi. While replying to one about my logistics team going to a convention, leaving for two days, I could see trees in the distance. It was clear I’d have to expense their attendance. However, it meant no coverage for the office. There was no way I could shut down operations for two days. So, I had to be diplomatic with my answer.