Filthy Daddy (Satan's Saints MC #2)

by Bella Love-Wins

  Life doesn’t get much better than this.

  Chapter 3

  Tate

  I lean against the door and jab my finger against the doorbell of the sprawling Littlefield, Arizona ranch where Molly lives with her mother. I don’t see her mom’s Dodge Ram in the driveway, so just to fuck with Molly’s head, I keep my finger pressed into the buzzer. The door chimes go off like crazy, and I smile. Oh, this is gonna be really good.

  She swings the door open, greeting me with a scowl on her face. “Tate.”

  “In the flesh.” I raise my eyebrows, wiggling them at her.

  Her face relaxes. “Don’t give me that look, or that sucker grin.”

  I point at my face. “What? This?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “It draws in the ladies like flies to rotten fruit.”

  “That’s because you ain’t hardly honey, darling.”

  I step up and kiss her on the cheek. “Damn straight. No use fooling them into anything unrealistic.”

  “Not when you’re known for raising hell.”

  “Remind me to tell that to any chick who’s begging to stay the night. So, I heard you needed my services, sweet thing?”

  “Something like that—”

  I don’t wait for her to invite me in. I turn sideways and step in through the small opening until she’s forced to step back or be run over in her own living room. Or carried, if she lets me throw her over my shoulder. Molly takes two quick steps backward and the door slams behind me.

  I continue into the rest of the spacious, brightly-decorated house. This time I look around the cheerful living room with pale yellow walls, and the eggshell hallways with discerning eyes. This place is massive. It’ll be a bitch to keep it secure with a one-man security detail, unless I can carve out one or two rooms where we can hunker down if there’s an emergency or some crisis situation I’m yet to find out about. After a second of perusing the place, I nix the idea and return to the living room. If Molly’s the only one in danger, she’ll be better off at the clubhouse.

  “Hey. What the hell were you doing?”

  I wince, and a shot of excitement travels up my spine. My little spitfire is back. As usual, our chemistry is strong enough to set each other off from opposite wings of this big house. “Checking the place out. What else?”

  “Seriously Tate. No small talk or anything? You just charge through my place, just like that?”

  “You’re the one in danger, doll. This security request is just about you right?”

  “Probably,” she answers, avoiding my gaze.

  “That’s clear as mud.”

  “Well, it’s complicated.”

  “Hmmm. Okay. Just know that I’m not leaving until you un-complicate it by telling me everything.”

  “Shit. All right.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, looking a bit peeved already. Or is there more to what’s going on?

  “By the way, after I’m done with you, you need to pack a bag. You’re staying with me. And while we’re on the topic, I hope you understand there’ll be hell to pay for not telling me this shit was going down before now. I shouldn’t have to hear about it from anyone else, let alone from a security service call through Silas’s old lady.”

  “Yeah… well, sorry about that. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

  I study her for a moment. Her brows are knitted together, and her eyes won’t stop darting all over the place. She’s agitated. Nervous. Cagey as hell. I don’t think I’ve seen her this anxious before. I want to set her at ease, but what’s more important is I need her to come to grips with one thing.

  Now that I’m in the picture, I’m laying down the law.

  What I say goes.

  Especially if she’s in danger.

  “Have a seat in here,” I tell her. “I need to take a better look around. Try to relax.”

  “Yeah. Right. As if,” she answers, and follows me anyway, stubborn as always.

  After checking each room on the main floor, I do a room-by-room sweep upstairs. She trails a few feet behind me with her arms crossed, but is silent as I assess the space. When I’m finished, I return to the main floor living room with her in tow. I help myself to a seat on the floral sofa and push away the throw cushions near me. She stands in the middle of the room, watching me as I stretch both my arms out over the back of the sofa, kicking up my boots on the wooden coffee table in front of me.

  “Now you can tell me all about your troubles, doll.”

  Molly’s purses her lips and sweeps her long raven black hair into a loose bun on the top of her head. Her pale blue eyes are gleaming. She’s pissed. “If I tell you I’ve had a change of heart about your firm’s decision to assign you to me, will you hightail your hot ass back to the clubhouse so I can get a redo with someone who’s not an asshole? Because that option is looking pretty damned good right now.”

  She hasn’t moved from the spot in the center of the room, fixed in place from her anger, ready to pounce. In fact, she’s staring at me as if she half expects me to leave.

  “What? You really think Silas will agree to your request just because we’ve been knocking boots every chance we get?” I shrug, pat the spot next to me on the couch. “Come on over here and tell the good doctor what ails you, doll.”

  Molly sighs and shifts her weight from one leg to the other. I can tell she isn’t in a playful mood. I look at her more closely. Her tiny frame, all of five feet four inches, is stretched out thin. She hasn’t been eating well. There are the beginnings of dark circles forming under her eyes. Those weren’t there the last time I saw her, which was in my room on the second floor of the clubhouse. She frowns and shoots a glare in my direction. She’s actually shaking. The possibility she’s in some seriously dangerous shit sobers me up fast.

  I lean forward and wipe the smile from my face, resting my elbows on my knees. “Get over here and sit, Molly. What the hell’s going on?”

  She comes closer but still doesn’t take a seat. The woman starts to pace around like a caged-up jungle cat. That in itself isn’t unusual, given her high-energy, no holds barred personality in and out of the bedroom. But her behavior is intense, extreme. She’s liable to start swinging, the way her hands keep balling up into small fists. The woman has a heart of gold, but she’s tough too.

  “Save it,” she whines. “This is a business call, Tate. I expect you to be serious and do your goddamn job the right way or not at all. My mom didn’t cough up all that retainer cash for you to treat my situation as a game. We need help.”

  “I can see that now, and no problem. Talk to me.” I’m at the edge of my seat, wondering who she could be so scared of that caused her to let her mother hire outside help for protection.

  “Molly. Either sit down or get all those clothes off. You’re too fucking sexy to be pacing around like that.”

  That comment gets her attention. By now I’m anxious and cagey too, more than ready to hear her lay it out for me so I can do my job instead of thinking with my cock. At the moment it’s jammed tight against the fly of my leathers, hard as slate. My dick really loves it when Molly gets all hot and bothered. That state of mind usually leads to her taking it out on me and leaving me with the marks to prove it for days.

  But this is different and I should know better.

  My gaze flicks up from the imprint of her nipples pressing against the flimsy fabric of her purple tank top. I lock eyes with her angry death stare. Clearing my throat, I slide my palms down along my jeans. “Sit down. Now.”

  Finally, she sighs and takes a heavy seat beside me, leaning her head back until her eyes are staring up at the ceiling. After a few moments, she straightens up on the sofa.

  “Are you sure you can handle this, Tate? I wanted someone from your club on the job because I trust your guys, but this,” Molly points back and forth between us without meeting my eyes and adds, “maybe this isn’t a good idea. I thought Silas would’ve sent someone else. Someone more…objective.”

  “There�
��s no one better for the job, Moll. Tell me something. Do you trust me?”

  Her head snaps toward me, probably at the sobriety in my voice. I keep my gaze firm on her face as a variety of emotions flicker across her expression. I don’t try to interpret any of them. Not now while she seems so out of sorts.

  “Yes. I trust you when it comes down to it.”

  “Good, because I do my job well. Otherwise, I wouldn’t waste your time.” I wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t. Whatever the situation is, it’s bothering her in a bad way. I quickly realize that I need to drag the details out of her. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. I want to know about this stalker problem.”

  She clears her throat, then she shifts around nervously in the chair and breathes out a long sigh with her exhale of air.

  “It’s an old boyfriend.”

  She pauses again, seeming to gather her thoughts. Or maybe she’s weighing how much to tell me. I keep my mouth shut and wait.

  “We broke up two years ago, a while before Mom and I moved back here from Louisiana. He’s a charter member of the Satan’s Saints chapter out there. I thought he was a decent enough guy while we dated. Things just didn’t work out. Anyway, my mom and I moved out here when her sister took ill, and he got it into his ignorant, stubborn head that I was leaving to get away from him. Over the past six months, he’s been telling me I need to go back to him so—”

  “Six months?” I ground out. “Six fucking months this has been going on and you’re only telling me now?”

  “Relax. He wasn’t being a dick then. But he is now and that’s why I called your people for help. The prick isn’t taking no very well, and actually he’s been a persistent jackass…kind of like that time you wanted to have a threesome with Cindy, and I caved after you kept hounding me about it—”

  “Ah, good times.” I smile for a second and readjust my crotch area. Silas’s mom and Molly in one bed, well, that was hot while it lasted. “Continue.”

  “Yeah, anyway he started sending me some crazy texts, leaving notes in my mailbox, dropping off flowers when we weren’t at home, shit like that. He won’t leave me the hell alone. He has some screwed up delusion that we’re meant to be together. The sicko calls me wifey in every note, message, and flower card. It’s beyond disturbing, Tate.” Molly swallows and grips the edges of the chair. “The worst part is he showed up at my job two days last week and got everyone there riled up. He had the nerve to show up with guns at his belt and a machete on his back. That scared the crap out of my boss. Anyway, someone needs to get him to stop.”

  “How long has the serious stuff been going on?”

  “He amped it up about a month and a half ago, give or take. We’ve been done for over two years ago, but he’d text me every now and then. When he upped the ante, I stopped replying to his messages, hoping he’d leave me alone or at least take the hint. After silence didn’t work, I gave him the straight goods. Told him it was over since Louisiana and that he needed to stop harassing me. That’s when it got worse. Now he’s threatening me, scaring the hell out of my mom when these gifts and packages show up… I think he needs some incentive to give up this game, like a good, old-fashioned whoop ass only an MC knows how to deliver.” She sighs and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She’s really scared.

  Still, I start with the elephant in the room. “Your ex. You realize you haven’t said his name once, right?”

  “I was getting to that part.”

  “Like the part about why you held off on letting me in on all this sooner? Tell me about that. Why exactly?”

  “I didn’t think he’d keep it up this long. Last night he started following me in his truck.”

  “He’s following you now?” I shout, bolting up from my spot on the couch. “I could’ve shut down the asshole weeks ago. He would’ve left you alone by now instead of raising the stakes.”

  “Will you just sit?” She doesn’t say another word until I take my seat. “Back then, this wasn’t your problem, okay? I only just hired you, remember?”

  I shake my head. “How do you figure a stalker isn’t my problem, Moll? I mean, shit, if someone wants to hurt you, that’s a big fucking problem to me.”

  “We’re not a couple, Tate. We’re casual. Sleeping together. Though it’s more like playing with each other. And anyway, it hardly justifies going all primal on another guy for me. You don’t have any obligation to me, and I’m not your girlfriend.”

  Molly crosses her arms over her stomach and leans back with her eyes closed. I don’t hesitate to take my fill of her gorgeous, gym bunny body. From the tips of her toes to the cute mussed up tangle of a bun at the top of her head, and everywhere in between, she’s perfect.

  I force myself to focus on the issue. “Okay. I get it. We’re fuck buddies. Except now, your minor stalker issue has gotten so out of hand, you have to hire someone to help keep you safe. And now, that’s my job. Do you see how fucked up that is?”

  She grumbles something and sinks further into the chair, tucking her knees to one side until we’re almost touching. I swallow. It’s never been easy for me to keep my hands off of her, so I stop trying so hard. My hand skims along her knee and brushes her inner thigh through her jeans. I watch her bite her lip, and then her eyelids flutter open. Our eyes lock. Her nostrils flare. That familiar flush on her pale skin creeps up her shoulders and neck underneath her tank top. Her muscles tighten beneath my soft strokes. She doesn’t push me away so I don’t stop.

  “I really didn’t want to involve you guys.”

  “Yet, here I am, involved.”

  “He won’t stop,” she whispers and I hear the faint hint of a whimper.

  “Shhhhh. I’m here now. No one’s getting near you…well, no one but me right now.” I slide off the couch, on my knees as I twist my body, parting her legs so I can fit between her thighs. Her eyes flutter closed, forehead creasing, and when she smiles a little, I can’t keep myself from smiling back. The two of us together has always been damned combustible. I ease my fingers up her jeans, grip onto her hips and pull her forward into my chest. “You’re safe with me, all right?”

  She nods.

  “How about I help you relax a little? We’re all alone here. I say we take advantage of the time we have together. I’m sure you’ll feel better after playing your favorite little game. Shoplifter and police officer, was it? With a little frisking?”

  Molly moans. I’m winning her over but she’s fighting it. She laughs nervously and rubs her forehead. “Yeah, really not the time, babe. Let’s spend some time figuring out this stalking problem first, okay?”

  “What?” I pull back to look her in the eye. “You and I both know this is something right up my alley, but I get the feeling there’s a whole lot more you don’t want to tell me.”

  “I just told you everything.”

  “No, actually. You didn’t.”

  “And how would you know? Are you a mind-reader now?”

  “With you, I might as well be. First of all, you gave me that whole spiel about the guy and you didn’t tell me his name. You still won’t tell me. Second, you didn’t say a thing about that fact that he broke in through the side door of the house, which I had to figure out with my own damn eyes when I looked around. And third…” I lift up her left arm at the elbow and point to her wrist. “You didn’t tell me he grabbed you so hard that he left a mark, but that was before—” I set down her left arm and gently take her right hand, pointing at her red, sore-looking knuckles. “Before you gave him a right hook in the jaw to convince him to leave.”

  Molly rears back, surprised. “How did you figure that out?”

  “You really have to ask? Have you forgotten I have a sixth sense about things like this? And I know the difference between marks you get from our sexy play time and marks like these. This is a real bruise…definitely a defensive wound, and I can see it as clear as day.”

  “I wonder what else you wouldn’t see if you’d just mind your own damn
business.”

  I glare at her with disapproval. She’s begging to be punished, to be bent over my knee and spanked. “The time for minding my own business is long gone. Not gonna happen, because now you are my business and you know that. Seriously, talk to me about this bruise. It happened last night, didn’t it? So, what you meant to tell me is he followed your Jeep all the way here, then he forcibly broke in through the side door, and he put his hands on you. And he didn’t leave until you punched him.”

  She nods.

  “Wait here.” I get to my feet and walk to her large custom kitchen for an ice pack, which I place on the back of her hand when I return to her side. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Where is it?” I press.

  “Powder room at the end of the hall.”

  I leave again and scour the main floor bathroom cabinets, only to find a tiny travel-sized kit that barely covers half of my palm. The thing probably only has a few bandages and maybe a couple of sterile gauze pads. “Remind me to get you a real first aid kit for your birthday or something,” I tell her when I get back into the sitting room. “You need to get a clue about lifesaving shit like this.”

  “Don’t act like such a smug bastard. My medical bag is in the Jeep outside.” She grumbles something about me being arrogant and I smile.

  “It ain’t no help out there in your Jeep. Apparently, I need to get on your case a hell of a lot more, Moll. A five-year-old cub scout has more supplies on hand than this.” I place a gauze pad on each side of her wrist, taping it down with a few adhesive bandages. “There. All better. What else do you need to tell me? Or are you gonna make me have to figure it out on my own around here?”

  She rolls her eyes. “That’s everything. And by the way, I’m fine.”

  “Yeah. Right.” I give her a more serious look. “You’re shaking like a leaf, so stop trying to hide that you’re scared as fuck about this guy.”