“This is my sister, Davey. I swear she doesn’t usually manhandle other people’s children.”
“That’s not true!” Davey cooed to the boy. “I pick up every child I see!”
“Nice to meet you, Davey.” Faythe crossed the room toward them, though she seemed in no hurry to reclaim her son. She clearly knew my sister was no threat. “This is Wilder. My youngest. And let me tell you, he lives up to his name.”
“Hi, Wilder!” Davey smoothed one hand down his back. “How old are you?”
The boy held up two fingers.
Faythe smiled. “Not quite. He’ll be two next month.”
“He’s adorable,” Davey told her.
“He certainly is.” But I was less comfortable than my sister was having him in the bar. This was the infant son of not just one, buttwoAlphas. Including the only female Alpha in history.Shewas a goddamn national treasure. So what did that make her child?
I was not set up to protect and defend Faythe Sanders and her baby. If something happened to her on my watch, I would never forgive myself.
Neither would anyone else.
I made eye contact with Vance and nodded toward the kitchen, silently telling him to go secure the rear exit. Which was when I realized there was a large—large—man dressed all in black standing in front of the swinging doors.
The back, clearly, was already secure.
“I was hoping we could have a little chat,” Faythe said, and her voice was now hyper smooth. The kind of calm that can only be deliberate. Rehearsed. It was a subtle display of vast strength—no need to worry, I am intotalcontrol—and I was both impressed and a little threatened.
I couldn’t be sure which of those was her intent, but I was no longer worried about protecting Faythe Sanders or her kid. She didnotneed my help.
“A chat. Yeah, sure.”
Faythe turned to address the entire room. “Gentlemen, could you please excuse us?”
When no one moved—I think our two customers were in shock over her scent alone—she cleared her throat and tried a rephrase. “The bar is going to close for about an hour.” This time her voice held a hint of a growl, and chills rolled across my skin at just the sound. There was no question that she would be obeyed.
Both of the regulars drained their glasses and headed toward the door, staring at her as they passed. Faythe eyed Vance expectantly, one brow raised.
“Oh, Vance works for me. He stays,” I added, and I felt like a bit of a badass for insisting.
One corner of Faythe’s mouth quirked up. “Of course. Nice to meet you, Vance. This is Vic.”
The guy blocking the way to my kitchen nodded without a word. He was in his mid-thirties and graying at the temples, but solidly built and no-doubt still super-fucking deadly.
“Wilder, do you want to play with Davey while Charley and I talk?” Faythe asked, smoothing the child’s hair while he still sat on my sister’s hip.
The little boy nodded, blinking big green eyes.
“Oh, we don’t have any toys,” Davey said. “We don’t usually have kids in the bar.”
Faythe threw her head back as she laughed, long hair swaying. She opened the leather bag and showed its contents to Davey. “If he gets bored with those, just give him a wooden spoon and a plastic bowl, and he’ll be thrilled—and loud—for hours.
Toys. Her stylish leather bag held toddler toys.
Davey settled onto the floor with the little boy, in the cleanest spot she could find, and set several toys from the bag in front of him, while Faythe marched across the room and twisted the deadbolt on the front door.
Vance took up a position near Davey and Wilder, acting as backup in case anyone got past Vic.
“Let’s sit.” Faythe headed toward the booth where the remainder of my lunch was growing cold. “Please. Finish your meal,” she said. “It smells good.”
“Can I get you anything?” Davey asked.
