Page 2 of Blade’s Protection

Safe.

This scarred warrior with hands that had clearly dealt damage made me feel protected. Which made no sense—I'd known him for thirty seconds, and everything about him screamed danger. But my body had already decided to trust him, pulse slowing from panic to something else entirely. Something that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the way he filled that doorway like he owned it.

"Dr. Tad." His voice rumbled through the small space, all gravel and command, but that penetrating gaze never left mine. "This the nurse?"

"Tiffany Glover, meet Blade Beckett." Dr. Tad made introductions like he hadn't just summoned a predator into the room. "Someone's trying to force her to steal prescriptions. Threats, stalking, broke into her place last night."

His expression went lethal. "Timeline?"

"Two weeks." My voice came out steadier than my racing heart suggested.

"Descriptions? Plates? Voice patterns?"

"Different people each time. Distorted voices on the calls. Sedan one day, pickup the next." My arms wrapped around my middle, suddenly hyperaware of how the gesture pushed my breasts up. His gaze tracked the movement before snapping back to my face. "They're organized."

Blade entered fully, his presence expanding to fill every corner. The small room suddenly felt smaller, charged with masculine energy. My skin prickled with awareness, every nerve ending suddenly hyperalert. He moved with controlled power, each step deliberate, economical. Military training in every line of his body.

He studied me with an intensity that made my skin flush. Not the quick assessment of a bodyguard cataloging a client—this was deeper, more personal. Like he was memorizing me.

"Living situation?"

"Alone."

"Family here?"

"No. Just me, three months out of Billings nursing school."

Each rapid-fire question darkened his expression further. Young woman, alone, no support system—I might as well have worn a neon 'victim' sign.

"Pack your things. You're moving in with me."

The declaration landed like a flashbang. "Excuse me?"

"Your apartment's compromised. Next time they won't stop at threats." His phone appeared, fingers already typing. "Someone will get your stuff. You stay with me until this resolves."

"I can't just move in with a stranger." Even as protest formed, relief flooded through me. Someone else taking control, standing between me and danger.

"Then the clubhouse. Multiple eyes on you."

"A biker clubhouse is supposed to be better?"

"Then my place stands." The phone disappeared, decision final. "I'll escort you home after shift for essentials. Everything else moves tomorrow."

That casual authority should have triggered every independent instinct I'd developed through nursing school. Instead, two weeks of fear started unwinding. Someone else would handle the darkness so I could breathe again.

"I don't need a babysitter." The weak protest fooled no one.

"Never said you did." No condescension, just facts. "Protection means someone else handles threats while you live your life."

"You don't even know me."

"Dr. Tad vouches for you. In Pike Creek, that's everything." He moved closer, forcing my chin up to maintain eye contact. My body responded immediately—nipples tightening against cotton, thighs pressing together. The attraction hit like a sledgehammer, wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything, but undeniable. "These people hunting you expect isolation and fear. Taking that away changes their game."

"What about your life? Your job? You can't shadow me indefinitely." My voice came out breathier than intended, and his eyes tracked to my mouth for a split second before returning to my face.

Something like amusement flickered across his harsh features. "My job is protecting club interests. Dr. Tad asked, that makes you my priority." He leaned slightly closer, and my breath caught. "And princess, I don't babysit—I eliminate problems."

The casual violence in those words sent liquid heat straight to my core. Wrong time, wrong place, wrong everything to develop a thing for a dangerous biker, but my body had already decided.