Page 15 of Melt For Us, Daddy (Big Daddy Energy #4)

Jacob

“ S o that’s the pit. You won't be cleaning everything by yourself, as it’s a large club. But you will need to learn everything so you can help where you’re needed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clapping a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, Braden grinned. “I know it’s a lot of information, but you’ll pick it up in no time. Do you have any questions for me before we move onto the private rooms?”

He had so many questions. But none of them seemed like the kind he should be asking. Because they had nothing to do with cleaning the equipment and everything to do with how it was used.

“Jacob?” Cordelia’s voice, that low, firm tone she so often spoke in, prompted him to turn around. A smile played on her lips as she studied him. “Braden asked you a question. Answer him, please.”

He shouldn’t enjoy being ordered around by her so much. Even if she was older and his grandfather’s wife, it still wasn’t the natural order of things.

So he tried to fight it. Meeting her steady gaze, he reached for that part of him that was supposed to exist. That male authority he’d been told all along was his birthright.

And came up empty.

“Um, no. No questions. Ma’am.”

“Told you so,” Ivy said under her breath in a sing-song way that reminded him of his sisters.

“Enough, Ivy.”

The rebuke had a flush rising to Ivy’s cheeks. But to Jacob’s shock, she didn’t immediately capitulate, the way he imagined he would have. Lifting her chin, she met her partner’s gaze with such boldness Jacob found his eyes going wide. “Or what?”

“Excuse me, little girl?”

“You heard me. What if I don’t stop? What are you gonna do about it?”

Sinking her hand into Ivy’s long, dark tresses, Cordelia pulled the smaller woman’s head back. “Obviously I didn’t spank you hard enough last night if you’re this comfortable acting the brat today. Maybe a taste of my belt will help you remember to behave.”

Spankings? Belts? Did-Did Cordelia beat her partner?

But he must have it wrong, again, because Ivy didn’t look the least bit scared. If anything, she was grinning even wider now. “You're not wearing a belt.”

“I’m sure Holden would be willing to loan me his.”

Chuckling, Holden reached for the buckle on the wide strip of leather around his waist. “You’re going to want to wrap it around your hand a few times. It’s probably longer than you’re used to.”

No, no, no. He couldn't let this happen. Back home, he’d been forced to stand by, helpless as his sisters were whipped on his behalf.

He refused to be that helpless, that useless now that he’d escaped.

Lunging forward, he threw himself between them, his arms spread wide to block Ivy from Cordelia’s path.

“No!”

Silence fell around him and it seemed as though the very air itself had frozen. Everyone was staring at him, wide-eyed, as if he was the one who had done something wrong.

“Shit,” Cordelia muttered, stepping forward, her hands outstretched, palms up. “Look at me, Jacob. Don’t look at anybody else, just me. You’re safe here, I promise.”

“You were—” He paused, swallowing hard, and forced his spine to straighten as he met her concerned gaze. “You were going to beat her.”

“I was only teasing. I would never spank Ivy in front of someone without their consent.”

“So you would beat her if I wasn’t here.”

Cordelia stopped her forward momentum. “It’s a bit more nuanced than that, honey.”

“You're just like them.” To his horror, tears filled his eyes, and he ruthlessly blinked them back.

Real men don’t cry, Jacob. Stop with the tears. You’re embarrassing yourself, and me.

“No, she’s not.” A gentle hand came to rest on his arm as Ivy slowly stepped around him, her expression serene as if she hadn’t just been on the receiving end of a terrifying threat. “I promise you, she’s nothing like them.”

“She was going to whip you. With a belt.”

“Yes.” Rubbing her hand up and down his arm, seemingly soothing him instead of the other way around, she nodded. “It would have waited until we got home, but yes, she would have whipped me. Because I wanted her to.”

Nothing Ivy could have said in that moment would have shocked him more. “You… want to be beaten?”

“Yes.” Color bloomed on Ivy’s cheeks. “I like it. Well, most of the time I like it. I don’t really like being in trouble. But when I’m not in trouble, it’s fun.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Jacob…” Taking a hesitant step forward, Braden frowned. “How much did they tell you about what happens here at the club?”

“Nothing, really. They just said it was a ‘den of iniquity’ and that it was a place people come to sin.”

Braden’s lips twitched up into a smile. “Den of iniquity. I like it.”

“You’re all very confusing,” Jacob said with a sigh. “How can you be so proud of your sin?”

“Because we don’t agree that it’s sinful.” Cordelia’s smile held an edge of sympathy. “And I know that’s a big thing to wrap your head around. So if you’re not comfortable working here, we can find you something else to do in the meantime.”

Looking around, he took in the faces of the people who had saved him. Taken him in, when he’d had nowhere else to go and promised to help him save his sisters.

And once again, found himself torn between what he felt, deep in his soul, and what he’d been taught.

Because it seemed to him that these were exactly the type of people the Bible talked about.

People who would do anything to stand up for the defenseless.

People who gave of their own time and money and shelter to help a stranger.

How could those same people be sinners destined for hell?

“No. I–I can do it. I can work here.”

Braden, Cordelia, and Holden all narrowed their eyes slightly, giving him nearly identical looks that said they clearly didn’t believe him.

It was Ivy, however, who drew his attention, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. When he looked down, she was smiling up at him, a smile that made him feel about a million feet tall and like he could do anything if she’d just keep looking at him like that.

“He can do it.” Her voice was strong, much stronger than his had been, and he instinctively straightened his spine in response.

“Yeah. I can do it. No problem.”

Judging by the looks the others shared, they didn’t quite believe him. But Braden gave a single slow nod. “All right. But if you have any questions or you change your mind at all, you’ll tell me immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you around the private rooms.”

Cordelia

Leaning back in her office chair, Cordelia stretched her arms over her head, trying to work out the tightness in her shoulders from having been hunched over her keyboard all day.

The advertising firm where she worked as part of the Human Resources department was merging with another company, which meant layoffs and reanalyzing benefits and a number of other nightmares that kept her chained to her office chair for hours at a time.

On her desk, her phone buzzed with an incoming message, and she grinned at the picture of her sweet Ivy Mae that popped up on her screen. Her class was on a field trip to a local nature center and Ivy had found herself a pair of peacocks to snap an excited selfie with.

Sunshine. She needed sunshine, maybe just a short walk around the building to help fight off some of the lethargy of the day. Grabbing her phone and purse, she headed out with a wave for her coworkers, her blood already humming at the thought of getting some much-needed Vitamin D.

When the sun hit her face as she stepped outside, she gave herself a moment to close her eyes and simply drink it in before beginning her stroll. And as she walked, her mind wandered, as it often did these days, to Jacob.

Two weeks had passed since he’d come barreling, quite literally, into their lives.

Per Braden, he was holding his own with his job at the club, and he’d even been asking questions about different pieces of equipment.

The answers, according to Braden, always left him red-faced and stammering, but Braden said he’d often find him staring at whatever piece he’d been asking about later with a wondering expression on his face.

Cordelia was doing a very good job of pretending she wasn’t curious about his curiosity, thank you very much.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a picture of Ivy holding up a stuffed pink axolotl, her bottom lip puffed out in a pleading pout.

My Blossom

Can I pleeeeeeeeeease get her??? Pretty please with me on top?

Laughing at her babygirl’s dramatics, she tapped out a response.

Hmm. You have been a very good girl lately, so I suppose you’ve earned a reward.

My Blossom

Thank you, Ma’am!

The ‘thank you’ was followed by a series of multicolored heart emojis that had Cordelia’s heart twisting painfully in her chest. God, she loved that woman.

Glancing up, she spotted a familiar black building with gold trim and the letters Rev and Roll above the door.

Ivy really had been a very good girl lately.

She’d even taken the change to their routine mostly in stride, and Cordelia had only needed to remind her twice about putting her collar on right after her bathroom routine in the morning.

With a quick check of traffic, she jogged across the street, already anticipating Ivy’s excited squeals when she came home with the box of treats in hand as she reached for the front door.

“Hello, Esther.”

No. No, no, no, no.

The air around her turned thick and heavy as she turned to face him, her fingers still gripping the shiny chrome handle of the bakery door.

He looked even more like his father than Jacob, though with none of his son’s sweetness and light. Harlan Redding was all cruel lines and sadistic glee as he smirked down at her.

“That’s not my name.”

“Oh, but it is, Esther . You caused quite a stir when you left, you know. My father would be very interested in a reunion, especially now that his days on Earth are so few.”

Bile rose in her throat at the thought of going anywhere near the man who had stolen her childhood and her innocence. “Sorry. Not interested.”

“And if I told you I have a group of prophets just waiting to take you back to your rightful place by his side? What would you do?”

“You’re bluffing.” After so many decades of carefully concealing their crimes, there was no way The Prophets would risk such a blatant display.

“And even if you aren’t, I’d scream. Make a scene.

If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’ll do anything to continue flying under law enforcement’s radar. ”

“You’re very right about that, Esther. But you won’t always be on a crowded street. And while I’m sure the apartment you share with the lovely Ivy is perfectly nice, the security leaves something to be desired.”

Oh, god. Ivy. The thought of them putting their hands on her babygirl had panic clawing at her throat, but she fought it back. “What do you want?”

“My son.” Lips pulled back in an expression that was more snarl than smile, he stepped closer. “Give me my son, and you have my word that The Prophets will stop looking for you. As far as we’re concerned, you died fourteen years ago.”

“You could promise me that Jesus himself would come down and kiss my feet and I still wouldn’t tell you where he is. Go back to your hole, Harlan, and don’t ever fucking contact me again.”

He lunged for her, which she’d been expecting. Yanking the door open, she let the momentum carry the glass, and it smashed right into Harlan Redding’s smug face. Blood spurted from his nose, sending a thrill up her spine as she watched him stumble backward, clutching his face.

“You fucking bitch! You dare attack a prophet of God?”

Before she could respond, she found herself surrounded by three tall, tattooed men.

“This man bothering you, ma’am?” The man to her right, his dark hair slicked back from a face carved from stone asked with barely a glance in her direction. Rowan, his name was Rowan. She knew him from the club and instantly felt better having him by her side.

“He is.”

“You want us to call the cops?”

She didn’t get a chance to respond. A black, unmarked van squealed up to the curb, the sliding door on the side flying open.

One of the men protecting her lunged forward, but even injured, Harlan was faster.

He dove for the van and it pulled away from the curb, tires squealing as the door slammed shut behind him.

“Motherfucker!”

She’d had him. He’d been right fucking there . Bleeding and broken on the sidewalk, and he’d still gotten away.

“Come on.” Opening the door, the man who’d asked her if she wanted to call the police ushered her inside. “Grab a seat and we’ll call the cops.”

With a jerk of her head, she followed them inside and dropped down into a seat. While the bikers-turned-bakers dialed 911, she pulled her phone from her purse and made her own phone call.

“Holden. It’s me. We need to talk about that safe house.”