Page 35 of Savage Protector

Now that he mentioned it, the aroma of my cheeseburger and whatever else he’d brought up made my empty stomach ache. “Let’s eat. Are you here for the night?” I asked, hopeful.

His face fell a little, giving me my answer before he said a word. “I’m not sure. I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” As I watched, he pulled a gun from his waistband, where it had rested against his back, and placed it on the table just inside the door. My eyes widened, and dread skittered down my spine.

It made me ask, “Would you be safe anywhere else?”

He rolled the cart to the coffee table and started unloading the food. My burger and fries looked like heaven on a plate. “I can take care of myself,” he decided while his scar twitched with every tick of his tightened jaw.

Funny how that did nothing to ease my concerns. “Stay here with me. Please?” He didn’t owe me anything, and I had no business asking, but I couldn’t help it. Now that he was here, I couldn’t let him go.

His brows drew together before he grunted, “We shouldn’t fall into the habit, but I’ll think about it.” Then he sat, patting the cushion next to him. “Let’s eat.”

He had also ordered a burger, onion rings, coleslaw, and a giant milkshake. “It’s been too long since I had the chance to eat like this,” he mumbled around a mouthful of beef. “Feel free to take whatever you want.”

“I think I’m good,” I told him, chuckling as I munched on a fry. “I do have a question, though.”

“I knew you would.” I couldn’t tell how he felt about it from the way he said it. There was humor in his voice, yes, but it also had an edge to it. Then again, he was on edge a lot, and there was no secret why.

“How am I ever supposed to repay you for everything you’ve done? Just the amount of money you’ve spent alone, not to mention the time you and your team have put into hiding me.” I didn’t want to think about the total, but I knew it had to be steep.

“I don’t remember asking for repayment,” he replied before taking another bite of his burger.

“But… do you have all the money to be able to do all this?” I asked in disbelief. “You snapped your fingers, and an entirely new life was created for me… a chartered jet, tons of cash, a house on the other side of the country. How can you do all of it without charging me?”

“That’s thanks to Jack too.” My heart seized at the brief shadow that passed over his face. “He always told me one of his biggest regrets was not investing his money, not that he ever made very much of it as a detective.”

I took a bite of my burger and moaned softly. He was right. We’d spent a week eating only what we could cook in the cabin, and I’d spent days before that eating whatever I could get at the convenience store across from the motel. This was a real treat. “But he looked out for you when you started making it,” I observed.

“Make your money work for you, he always said. When I started earning, working with the clients he first introduced me to, he was damn determined to see me put the money to use. He hovered over me, I swear.” He was grinning when he said it, with fondness in his voice, even if he wore a smirk. “I was making a mint, but I was living off cereal and canned pasta because so much of my salary went to investments. But it paid off, of course. Eventually, I parlayed my nest egg into a business of my own.”

“I really admire that.” I admired him. He had come so far. No wonder losing Jack, especially the way he had, drove him to the kind of rage I witnessed only a glimpse of back at the cabin.

“It’s all thanks to him.” Now that he had wolfed down half of his burger in only a few bites, he ate more slowly. “Believe me, I did not learn how to manage money as I grew up. Money was made to be spent.”

I could believe it because that was the way Dominic lived. He threw cash around like he was born to do it, tipping lavishly, splurging at the drop of a hat. More than once, I had wondered if all his wealth was an illusion or whether he was really as well-off as he seemed.

“I’ve invested in my friends’ businesses too,” he added as if it were an afterthought. “My friend, Sebastian Kennedy, owns a restaurant⁠—”

“Sebastian Kennedy? Do you mean the guy who owns Home?” My mouth watered at the thought, even as I chewed my dinner.

“You’re familiar with it?”

“Who isn’t?” I asked. “I’ve eaten there a bunch of times.”

“When he decided to expand rather than open a second location, my friends and I gave him the money after his original investors pulled out.” He said it like it was no big deal. This man who’d left a gun on the table by the door invested his money with a hotshot restaurateur like Sebastian Kennedy. The more I learned about him, the more I realized there was to know.

“You are more than meets the eye, Grayson Daniels.” Though what met the eye wasn’t half bad, either. Everything about him—the way his biceps flexed every time he raised a hand to his mouth, the way the muscles played along his broad back when he reached across the table, his thick thighs straining against his jeans—hinted at how dangerous he could be.

It also reminded me how good he was in bed and how incredible it felt to be held close to his warm, sculpted body.

“I’m going to ask you again.” Kneeling next to him on the sofa, I folded my hands like I was praying. “Please, don’t leave me tonight.” I couldn’t say goodbye twice in one day, especially to the first person who made me feel safe for longer than I cared to remember.

He gestured around us with a fry before popping it into his mouth. “This isn’t comfortable enough for you?”

“That’s not the point. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. I’m alone,” I said. Pride be damned. Some things were more important than pride, like the comfort of having him in the same room. “And I’ll be worried sick all night about you taking risks out there. Please stay. We can always pretend you slept in another room if you’re worried about what your guys will think.”

He waved that off, frowning, staring at the table where the remnants of our meal sat. “I think there’s something we need to clarify first. What happened last night…”

Dammit. I was really hoping we could skip the awkward conversation where we dissected our night together. Holding my breath, I waited for the rest.