Page 29 of Sawyer (Sabre Security Daddies #6)

T en minutes into the drive, and Sawyer was still talking. About games. Food. Places she wanted to see. Hell, even his dumb “Questions Me This” game.

It got him nothing.

Oh, Lele wasn’t giving him the silent treatment. She wasn’t sulking. Or scared. It was worse than any of that. She was sad. More than sad, his Little girl was miserable.

It was his fault, and there was nothing he could do to fix it. Not until she let him.

Her body sat right there beside him on the warm bench seat of his truck, but Lele? She’d slipped away. Sure, she answered when he asked something. But her voice was hollow. Her eyes, empty. The spark that had always made her Lele had flickered out.

He wanted to shake her. To drag her back.

But all he could do was grip the wheel and bleed inside.

Finally, he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled up the playlist he’d added because, fuck him, it reminded him of her. He’d copied it from her phone while she slept a few nights ago .

The speakers blared, and seventies disco music filled the cab, high and bright, crashing through the silence between them.

Blinking out of the fog she’d been in, she turned to him. “You like seventies disco too?”

He wanted to say yes. God, he wanted to say yes. Anything to make her smile. But he’d sworn to be honest. No lies. Not with her. Not ever again.

“Since you introduced me, I’m… trying. I can make it through three songs before I need to switch.” There, that was a happy medium.

Her eyes flickered. The tiniest spark. “What do you switch to?”

Not disco. Anything but disco.

But he couldn’t say that, knowing it would hurt her. “I like variety,” he said. “But mostly? Country rock.”

That earned him half a smile. Barely there, but he’d take it. “I like country rock too, Daddy—” She broke off, her cheeks flushed. “Sawyer. I meant Sawyer. You don’t have to force yourself to listen to disco if you don’t like it.”

He cut her a sidelong look. Slowing his words so she couldn’t miss a single one, he said, “I don’t play disco music because I like it, Half-Pint.” His chest ached. “I play it because I love you. And because making you happy matters to me.”

Her lips parted. Her voice was soft, sad. “I want that, too. But I don’t know if I can get back there.”

Bullseye. Clean shot to the heart. And yeah, he deserved it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. “I get it, babygirl. I’m not rushing you. But you need to know, my feelings haven’t changed. I’ll be here. Always. Sometimes closer than you might want.”

Her brows knit. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, somebody unloaded an entire clip into your house. Until I know who it was and end them, I’m at your place whenever you are. Day. Night. Doesn’t matter.”

Her jaw dropped. “You mean… all the time? ”

“That’s exactly what I mean. When you’re in Elk Jaw, I’m your permanent couch ornament until the shooter’s behind bars.”

She sputtered. “But… but, we can’t do that.”

“Yeah? It’s good you see that,” He slowed, turned the wheel, and headed for Darling. “I’m glad we agree.”

The pitch of her voice rose an octave. “Wait! What are you doing?”

“Taking you back to Darling. It’s the only place I know you’ll be safe.”

“I don’t want to go back to Darling. I have a life in Elk Jaw.”

He gave her a look. “You just said I couldn’t stay the nights on your couch. So, what are you proposing? I stay in your bed?”

“No!” The squeak in her voice went straight to his cock. Was that panic or desire? Or a bit of both. Either way, he’d take it. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not staying in Elk Jaw. Because I am.”

“So, you are saying I can stay on the couch or bed.”

She threw her hands up. “Ugh! You are such a Daddy!”

He grinned and wagged his brows. “Never said I wasn’t, Half-Pint. Now quit stalling and answer the question.”

She threw her hands skyward. “Fine! You can sleep on the couch.”

Sawyer turned the truck back toward Elk Jaw.

He gave her a beat to contemplate the reality of her new living arrangement, then asked, “Tell me something, Half-Pint. How open are you to helping me gather intel on Jaxon’s trial? I need to find something we can leverage to overturn his conviction. It’s more urgent now.”

Her head tilted. “Not that it matters, but I’ve been trying to help him since my first week in prison.”

That hit like a fist. Jealousy clawed at his chest, but he shoved it down. “What does that mean?”

“I owed him an apology. So, I wrote him a letter every week telling him how sorry I was. Trying to explain. ”

His grip tightened on the wheel. Damn. His girl was all heart. If she’d let him back in, he’d spend the rest of his life proving to her he deserved to be there.

“How long did you write to him?”

Her shoulder lifted, eyes sliding to the window. “I still write him.”

His pulse kicked up a beat. “Wait. You’ve been writing him every week for five years?”

“Yes. But he never accepted them. They always come back. I’ve kept them all, and I keep trying. I hope maybe one day he’ll read them, or at least one of them. He needs to know I’m sorry I lied.”

Holy hell. Five years of letters. Handwritten testimony she’d lied under oath. That was evidence. Ammunition someone might use against her if they got their hands on it.

But not put her at risk. He thought the statute on perjury was one year, but he’d have to check. He wasn’t doing anything to jeopardize her. Not even for a brother.

“Can I read them, Half-Pint? There might be something we can use.”

“Of course. Most of them are in the attic. There’s a shoebox in my closet for the recent ones. But it’s… a lot.”

“Do any of them say flat-out you lied under oath?”

“Sure. I told him I’d do whatever he needed if it would help.”

Sawyer’s brain raced. Reid needed to know this, and Raleigh as well. He just might need backup, but first…Lele.

“Tell me something, babygirl. When you signed your plea, did the judge question you in court? Make you confess to the crimes out loud?”

Her brow pinched. “No. I just signed papers. I only talked to my lawyer. Well, Hector’s lawyer, but he represented me.

Hector paid for everything. Did you know some lawyers charge three hundred dollars an hour?

Isn’t that crazy? When Hector told me that, I promised to pay him back.

” She grimaced. “I still have a long way to go.”

His pulse spiked. “So, you’re telling me you never stood before a judge. Never confessed in open court to what you’d done. You just signed the papers. Is that right?”

“Yes. Why? Is that wrong?” Panic shimmered in her eyes. Her breathing picked up. “They can’t send me back to prison. Please, Daddy, tell me they can’t!”

She hadn’t bothered to correct herself that time. She was so rattled she didn’t seem to notice she’d called him Daddy. That was a good sign. Even though she had doubts, he was still her Daddy in her heart.

Fuck. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He reached over, cupped the back of her neck.

“No, babygirl. What I’m saying is you never should’ve gone to prison in the first place.

Not without that confession. I’ll look into it, I promise.

If there’s anything wrong, I’ll fix it. It’s gonna be fine. You’re safe with me. Got it?”

Her eyes looked into his, and she held his gaze. Finally, she nodded. “Got it.”

They pulled up to her house twenty minutes later. Everything looked the same as yesterday.

Except the door.

It hung open. Just a crack. Enough to raise every hair on the back of Sawyer’s neck.

Lele leaned forward hard against her seatbelt. “Is my door open? I shut that door. I know I did. You checked it, remember?”

“I remember, Half-Pint.” Sawyer slid his hand under the seat, his fingers closing on the gun safe he kept there. Her blinds were down. Everything was quiet. But something was wrong. He could feel it.

“You stay put while I check?—”

Yeah. Right .

Her belt snapped free. Her door banged open. She was out before he got the words out of his mouth.

“Lele!” His pulse spiked. “Stop right there!”

Did she mind him? Fuck no. His reckless little brat sprinted straight for the open door like she was bulletproof.

“Damn it!” He launched from the truck, gun in hand.

His heart hammered, rage and terror coursing through him in equal measure. If she didn’t get killed in the next thirty seconds, he was going to tan her ass raw.

Then the door flew open wide.

A man dressed all in black and wearing a balaclava came barreling out and straight into Lele.

He held a large knife with a curved blade.

It wasn’t huge, but it was no pocketknife.

It reflected the morning sun when he flipped the knife so the blade faced Lele.

Raising his arm, the man prepared to strike. And Sawyer’s world tunneled.

The blade arced up, gleaming, angling straight for her chest.

“Fuck!” His shout cracked the air. She was too close to the knife-wielding man. He couldn’t shoot. Couldn’t risk hitting her.

The man faltered and looked up. It only lasted a blink in time, but Sawyer only needed that blink to reach them. He hit the man at full speed, knocking him into the door frame. Grabbing Lele’s arm, he yanked her aside hard enough to make her stumble out of reach.

He turned back to Knife Man just in time to see him move, but not enough to stop him. White-hot pain sliced the side of his chest as the knife cut down to the bone, glancing off his rib. It stole his breath.

With a grunt of sheer agony, he swung his gun like a hammer and cracked the bastard across the face. A swing of the knife came at him again, causing him to jump backwards.

He went down to one knee, his rage burning hotter than the pain. Motorcycle pipes thundered, and they were close .

He shoved the pain into a box in his mind. There was no time for agony. No time for weakness.

He had one job, and that was to keep his girl alive. “Half-Pint!” His roar shook his chest.

Once again, Ravage came flying across the lawn, his bike spitting grass in every direction.

Knife Man had already heard the roar of the bike and retreated ahead of Ravage, diving into a car waiting across the street. He was gone before Sawyer could take steady aim.

Sawyer dragged air into his lungs, each breath filled with pain from the bruised rib and knife wound. “Go!” He pointed toward the street, motioning to Ravage. “Follow the car!”

Ravage didn’t hesitate. Tires screamed when he hit the pavement, and he was gone.

Lele’s scream ripped through the air. “No! Oh God! Sawyer!” She dropped to her knees beside him, hands grabbing his face. “Daddy, you’re bleeding—I need to call an ambulance!”

That was a bad idea. He had no idea who to trust in the police department here. He shook his head. Pain detonated in his skull.

She fumbled for her phone anyway. “I’ll call 911, then I’ll grab bandages from inside.”

Bandages. Right. Good money said all she had were cartoon rabbits and pink glitter stickers. He’d have to be dying before he let Lola Bunny patch him up.

He manacled her ankle with an iron grip before she could bolt into the house. “No. You don’t set foot in that house. There could be more inside. Help me up. We’re going to my place.”

Knife Man hadn’t hit anything. Nothing vital, anyway. He’d walked off worse back in the CIA. Still, it hurt like hell. Fuck, he was going soft.

She braced under him, steadying him as they made their way across the street. Using the other hand, he put pressure on the cut. He bit back curses, forcing himself to walk upright. Fire ripped through his body with every step, but he kept moving.

They made it to his house. He locked the door, then collapsed in the first chair he saw. Teeth bared, he dragged his phone free and shoved it at her. “Get my contacts. Find Bones. Tell him I need stitching up.” He moved his hand and glanced at the cut.

“Stitching up? You need an emergency room. What if you need surgery?”

“It looks way worse than it is. It probably needs a stitch or two. Now do what Daddy said and make the call.”

She must have taken the threat of impending ass destruction in his glare seriously. Her fingers shook, but she did make the call. Pausing only when he rasped out his passcode... her birthday.

After she hung up, she turned back to him. And cracked. Tears streaming, her face twisted in fear.

Sawyer clenched his jaw. She was breaking, and hell if he’d let her fall apart outside his arms. He pulled her into his arms and winced. The pain was worth it just to hold her again.

When he could breathe again… when the bleeding was handled, her reckless little ass was getting spanked so hard she’d remember it every time she sat down for a month.