Protecting His Baby

by Nikki Chase

  Harper watches me, her body tense as she listens to my every word. It’s wrong, but it makes me feel so fucking powerful, and power is a potent drug.

  “You know what cops don’t do on the job?” I smirk. “They don’t fuck. Even when they’re undercover whores, they don’t fuck. Doesn’t that sound ridiculous? They just call for back-up.”

  “What are you saying?” From Harper’s voice, I can tell she already knows where I’m going with this. She’s a smart girl. She just can’t quite believe her own conclusion.

  “I’m saying . . . If you fuck me, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.” I speak slowly, enunciating every word so she knows exactly what I want.

  Harper stares at me quietly as she weighs her options.

  She knows she can’t leave my house because there are more dangerous people waiting for her outside. She knows I can overpower her if I choose to—easily.

  She can say no, but that will defeat the whole purpose of her being here. She knows I won’t offer her another chance like this.

  Harper’s a smart girl, but she probably has no experience in situations like this. If she has indeed spent her days working herself to the bone as she has told me, she probably finds herself in completely alien territory right now.

  To be honest, I don’t doubt her story for a second. It must be something about those big, doe eyes. If eyes are the window to the soul, then she’s practically living in a glass house, with all her thoughts visible to anyone who bothers to peer inside.

  The point of my offer is not for her to prove anything. The point of my offer is for her to spread her legs and let me sink myself balls deep into her pussy.

  “Okay,” Harper says in a small, mousy voice.

  “What did you say?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay, you can . . . fuck me.” The way she pauses before saying a curse word is adorable.

  Harper is shaking. Unfortunately for her, that’s exactly the kind of thing that turns me on.

  My grip on her hair tightens as my other hand yanks her flush against me. She gasps, and I shut her up by crushing her lips with mine.

  These lips . . . They’re so hot. So soft. So full.

  She barely kisses me back, and I don’t blame her. The way I coerced her into this probably doesn’t endear me to her.

  But ever since she got here yesterday, I’ve been salivating over the prospect of taking them again, and now I am.

  My hand on her back pulls on her towel, hard. I hear it fall softly on the tiled floor and pull away just enough to look down at her naked body.

  Fuck, she’s an angel with the body of a succubus.

  Her tits are round and heavy. Her narrow waist flares out into beautiful, ample hips that lead to her smooth, long legs.

  As I pull her into my arms once again, I revel in the sensation of her bare chest pressing against me. My fingers follow the curve of her spine on her back.

  Unexpectedly, Harper opens up for me and kisses me back. She even swipes her tongue between my lips and sucks my lower lip.

  Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to feel those lips on my cock. But that will have to wait. Luckily, we have time.

  Thud.

  I pull away from Harper and freeze as I hear what sounds like sharp knocking on the front door.

  “Logan!” a female voice shouts with irritation. “I know you’re in there. Open the door!”

  What the fuck?

  Harper

  “Who’s that? What’s happening?” My voice is shaking.

  Is this the danger Logan mentioned? His confidence has lulled me into a false sense of security and, for a moment, I honestly thought nothing could touch us as long as we were in here.

  “Shh . . .” Logan pulls me into a dark corner of his home office.

  With my face pressed against his chest, I can hear his heartbeat. It’s fast, but regular.

  “Who’s at the door?” I whisper.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  I want to scream. Why do people say that? Every time I hear that phrase, it only makes me want to know even more.

  “Logan! Open the door!” I hear a woman shout as the front door is being pounded once again. “I know you’re in there.”

  “Shouldn’t you at least talk to her?” I ask in a low voice.

  “She’s not someone you can reason with.” Logan puts both his hands on my head and strokes my hair.

  It’s stupid, but this simple gesture makes me feel safe. Safe. Only an idiot would feel safe in the arms of a man who has just forcefully made her agree to let him fuck her.

  I mean, it’s not like he physically overpowered me or anything. I agreed to do it, but only because he was dangling something he knew I’d do anything for.

  Yet, it would be a complete lie to say I didn’t want it. I still do.

  Hell, if we had access to a soundproofed panic room right now, even with the pandemonium going on outside, I’d let Logan fuck me in a heartbeat.

  It’s funny what kind of mundane observations people make in a crisis, what kind of ordinary thoughts run through their minds.

  Right now, I wonder if I’ll get a chance to wipe off the wetness that has leaked out of me if the bad guys come in here. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I can even grab my towel and cover myself.

  I don’t want my name to be mentioned in tomorrow’s newspaper as the girl who died while naked and wet in the house of a guy who works for the mafia. That’s probably the least dignified way to go that I can think of.

  I look to the side, glancing at the big window through which morning rays stream in.

  It’s crazy how the world goes on as normal even when there’s a good chance I’m about to die. Makes me realize how insignificant I really am.

  This is not a new realization, of course. When I found out Mark had died, I had a similar thought.

  “Don’t worry. They can’t get in here,” Logan says as he turns my face away from the window. “Everything in this house is stronger than it looks. I’ve reinforced everything. Not even a bullet can pierce that glass.”

  He thinks I’m worried about those people coming in here through the window. And, he’s trying to comfort me.

  I smile as Logan strokes my bare back.

  Logan may not be a completely good guy, but he’s not a bad guy either. I wasn’t wrong to believe in him. He’ll keep me safe, just like he did when I fainted at the cemetery.

  “Nobody can even see us here,” Logan continues.

  “Yeah.” As I lean on his chest, the fabric of his shirt rustles. His heartbeat and the warmth of his body calm me down.

  I wrap my arms around Logan, letting my breasts squish against his chest. I wish he weren’t wearing any shirt right now so I could feel his skin on mine.

  As I pull myself closer against Logan, I feel something hard pressing against my thigh. Is he . . . hard?

  I glance up at him.

  He’s looking around like he’s assessing the situation. But, from what he told me earlier, it doesn’t sound like anyone can come inside.

  Besides, he’s avoiding eye contact.

  I can’t help but giggle.

  “Be quiet,” he says.

  “Sorry,” I whisper as I stifle my laugh. “But, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

  Logan grins and looks down to meet my gaze. There’s a twinkle in his gray eyes. “Hey, I can’t help it. I’ve got a hot, naked girl pressing her tits against me.”

  “Did you just call me h—”

  “Logan! I swear to God, if you don’t come out now, you’re only going to make things worse!” the woman at the door continues, reminding us we’re not alone.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her?” I ask again.

  Logan nods. But, as usual, he doesn’t offer any more explanation.

  “So, what is she? A crazy ex-girlfriend?”

  Logan snorts. “A crazy girl, period.”

  I fall sil
ent as the sun casts dark, man-shaped shadows on the floor of the home office.

  The “crazy girl” is not alone. There are men with her, and they have just passed by the window.

  We stay there in the dark corner until the commotion outside dies down.

  I literally have nothing on me, so I can’t check the time. But if I have to guess, it probably takes about an hour until Logan’s unexpected, unwanted guests leave.

  “It’s probably safe now,” Logan says gently.

  I crumple to the floor out of both fear and exhaustion. Stealthily, I grab one end of the towel and wipe the wetness that has dripped down my thigh.

  At least, I won’t be found dead looking like someone who enjoys dangerous situations a little too much.

  Now, are we going to pick up where we left off, or . . .?

  When I glance up, Logan has disappeared from the home office.

  Damn it, for a man his size, he sure can creep quietly.

  I still don’t understand how he could suddenly be right inside the room with me earlier, when I was rummaging through his things.

  My mind flies back to the photographs I was looking at when Logan interrupted me. I glance at the spot by the desk where I dropped them, but they’re no longer there.

  Did Logan also take them away? Wow, he’s quick.

  I still remember what I saw on those photos, though. They’re yellowed around the edges so they’re probably old.

  And, in those pictures, I saw Mark.

  Harper

  I wrap the white, fluffy towel around my body and walk out of the home office, fully expecting to have to go through the entire house to find Logan again.

  But, to my surprise, there he is, sitting on the couch in the living room with his phone in his hand.

  Taking a seat across the coffee table from him like I did yesterday, I ask, “Logan, where are the pictures I found in the office?”

  “They’re safe,” he answers briefly in his usual cryptic way.

  “Can I see them again?”

  “No.”

  “You said you were going to tell me everything I wanted to know.” I try to speak as gently as I can. I don’t want him to change his mind.

  “As far as I’m aware, you haven’t fulfilled your side of the agreement either.” He doesn’t even take his eyes off his phone.

  “I’d do it now if you want to.”

  Logan lifts his gaze and looks at me. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Logan, I—”

  “Look, I don’t know if you were here just now, but something just happened and I’m trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. So, I’d appreciate it if you could just shut up.”

  I sit there in my towel, feeling like a schoolgirl who has just been called to the principal’s office.

  It stings that Logan would speak to me that harshly. Of course, it does. Not even my manager at work would talk to me like that.

  But, at the same time, when he orders me around, a thrill runs down my spine and it makes me feel alive for once.

  I watch him tap furiously on his phone.

  Who is he texting? The woman who was just here? Mr. Foster? One of Mr. Foster’s associates? The guys who handle his home security system?

  I can’t help but wonder who that woman was. Who would come to a guy’s home and pound on his door, demanding to see him?

  By all indicators, she seemed like a crazy ex-girlfriend, but Logan told me she was just a crazy girl.

  Does that mean she was never his girlfriend? If she was never his girlfriend, does that still mean she has slept with him?

  The fact that she has tracked him down and threatened him certainly suggests that she’s emotional about something. What did Logan do? Slept with her and never called her again?

  My chest clenches at the thought of Logan in bed with another girl.

  It’s wrong, this emotion. Logan is nobody to me. Literally. I don’t even know him—not really.

  Maybe it’s because he looks so much like Mark.

  But, I doubt it.

  In my cruel imagination, it’s not Mark fucking another girl. It’s Logan.

  Logan’s long hair and scruffy face. Logan’s muscled body. Logan’s big body overpowering a delicate girl, pinning her down. Logan’s hands pulling her hair.

  Mark has never been anything but a sweet, gentle lover.

  My mind flies back to the photographs I found in Logan’s desk drawer.

  He looks so much like Mark in those pictures.

  Except, he’s surrounded by people I’ve never seen before, people who aren’t members of Mark’s family.

  And, there’s an edge to him. I can’t quite put a finger to it, but Logan’s eyes aren’t warm and kind like Mark’s were. He has the same steel-gray eyes, but they’re cold and unfriendly. Suspicious.

  I wonder what has happened to him to make him so distrustful of the world.

  “Were they family pictures?” I ask in a soft voice, unable to restrain my curiosity any longer.

  Logan briefly lifts his gaze from his phone and looks sharply at me. “What?”

  “The people in the photos I found in your drawer. Were they family?”

  “Something like that,” he answers abruptly, cutting off eye contact to make it clear that he doesn’t feel like taking more questions.

  “Something like family but not family?” I may not find those pictures again. And after catching me in the act, Logan may never again leave me alone to roam in his house, so I may as well get all the answers I need from him directly.

  Logan lets out a big sigh. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “You answer very few questions.” I give him a grin, hoping to lighten the mood.

  He glances at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but the ringing of the phone in his hand interrupts him.

  “Finally,” he says as he checks the screen. I watch as he picks up the phone and gets up from his couch.

  Without giving me further acknowledgement, he strides into his office—the one where we hid earlier—and shuts the door behind him, making me jump with shock at the loud bang.

  Should I follow him into the office?

  Nah. That would be pushing things too far. I’ve already annoyed him enough with my incessant questions.

  I’m tempted to walk up to the door and press my ear against the wooden surface. Maybe, if I grab a glass from the kitchen to amplify the sound, I’ll be able to listen in on his conversation.

  I walk to the kitchen and open the cabinets until I find a shelf of clear drinking glasses.

  Am I really doing this?

  On second thought, I probably won’t learn anything about his past from the phone call. Whoever he’s talking to, they’re likely discussing the aggressive visitors who were at the door mere minutes ago.

  I turn on the tap and fill the glass with water, then take a few big gulps. In all the excitement of this morning, I didn’t even realize my mouth was dry.

  For the first time, I also notice the washing machine has stopped making any noise. Maybe I should put my clothes in the dryer.

  I mean, as much as I wish Logan would strip me bare and have his way with me, I can’t just walk around in my towel all day.

  Funny. In the past five years, no man has ever made me feel like getting naked in front of him. Even when I’m lying alone in my bed at night, it’s Mark who stars in the fantasies that play in my head.

  But Logan . . . Logan’s different. And it’s not just because he looks like Mark either.

  There’s still a twinge of guilt in my chest, but this can only be a good thing, right? It’s been five years. Moving on with my life is the healthy thing to do.

  I’ll dry my clothes and put them back on. If he wants me, he can take them off. I’ll let him. Hell, he just has to say the words, and I’ll do it for him.

  Logan

  “You said you were going to get right on it. How long will it really take for you guys to take care of this?” I resist the urge to shout into the ph
one, knowing there’s only a door separating me from Harper.

  That girl is too nosy for her own good. Knowing too much will only put her in danger.

  “Look, Logan, it’s not as simple as you seem to think it is.” Caine Foster, Robert’s spawn, speaks as calmly as he usually does.

  The guy is taking on more and more responsibility within the family, and I’m not sure I like it. There’s something about him that makes him seem out of place among his father’s friends.

  He looks too slick in his pressed, wrinkle-free suits. He speaks too smoothly, like a manager at a high-end hotel.

  “They showed up at my house, Caine,” I say in a lower voice, partly to make sure Harper doesn’t hear my conversation and partly to make myself seem sane to Caine.

  “Who? Enzo Guerriero?” he asks, obviously alarmed and in disbelief.

  “Not the old man. His daughter, Rosa.”

  “Oh.” Caine pauses. “Well, what did she say?”

  “I don’t know. She was here with some guys. I didn’t open the door. I don’t have a death wish. And even if I did, that’s not really the way I’d want to go.”

  Caine chuckles. I’m having a crisis here, but he seems to find it entertaining.

  “I also thought that maybe you have straightened things out with the Guerrieros.” I rap my fingers on the surface of my desk.

  “I’ve tried.”

  “What does that mean? You’ve tried, you’ve failed, and you won’t try again?”

  “I spoke to Enzo. He told me his daughter had legitimate problems with you and it has nothing to do with us.”

  “What the fuck? You’re just going to hang me out to dry?” I ask.

  “No. Of course not.” Caine pauses, probably trying to measure his next words carefully—he’d better. “It would be better if you could resolve things peacefully, directly with Rosa.”

  “And it would be better if we could have world peace, but that’s not happening either.” I massage my scalp. “Look, when I started to work for your father, he assured me that he’d provide me with protection. That was the only reason why I accepted the job.”