Daddy’s Wild Girl (Montana Daddies #16)

Chapter 18

18

B ebe headed down the dark alleyway.

Only to have a hand wrap around her arm and haul her back.

“Hey!” she cried. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” Corbin shot back at her.

“I’m heading to Callahan’s,” she said. Was he losing his memory? What was wrong with him?

He glared down at her, then at the alley. “Are you trying to tell me that the bar is down there?”

“Yes. Why?”

“It’s down a dark alleyway?” he asked incredulously. “With no signage? On a street where there are barely any people?”

“Um, yes.”

“We’re not going down there,” Hayes stated, giving her a firm look. “It’s not safe.”

Jeez. Hayes thought brushing her teeth wasn’t safe for her! All right, slight exaggeration, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly started arguing that she could harm herself with the toothbrush.

However, she’d been counting on Corbin to be more level-headed and reasonable.

“The door to get into the pub is just a few steps into the alleyway. Please, just trust me.” She gave him her best pleading look.

“Told you,” Hayes grumbled. “She thinks that pout can get her whatever she wants.” He stepped away a few paces while Corbin stared down at her firmly.

“Well, it won’t. I’m not letting you put yourself in any danger. You’re too precious to me.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his words.

Precious to him?

What did he mean, precious to him? She was a client.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “Let’s forget I said that. It wasn’t professional. Probably why I’m not sent into the field that often.”

“What?”

“Probably shouldn’t have said that, either. I have field skills. I was a CIA agent before I worked for JSI. So I can do this job, it’s just that I prefer to be the man behind the scenes.”

Oh.

That actually made her feel better for some reason. Possibly because the idea of him putting himself in danger scared her.

And why was that?

Was he precious to her as well?

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” she said, although that didn’t mean she would forget. “If you come down the alleyway.”

He heaved out a sigh, giving her a look of disgruntlement. “I don’t like ultimatums.”

“Please.” She put her hands up, pleading with him.

“Are you really telling me there’s a bar down there?” he asked skeptically. “How does anyone know it’s there?”

Yay. He was going to see reason.

“There really is, and it’s a pub. But it’s a different sort of place.”

“How is it different?” Hayes asked, coming back. “Does it sell booze?”

“Well, yes.”

“Does it have four walls? Chairs or stools? Does it have a toilet?” Hayes asked.

She heaved a sigh. “You’re hard work sometimes.”

“I try,” Hayes deadpanned.

“Callahan’s Pub isn’t a place that most people know of. The Duke doesn’t advertise. It’s purely word of mouth. Memberships are handed down. You have to be a member to get in or be with one. A member can bring a number of people, but they have to let the Duke know first.”

“The Duke?” Corbin asked.

“He owns it. I think.”

“A duke who owns an Irish pub?” Hayes asked. “It sounds like some sort of weird joke.”

“He can’t be an actual duke, right?” Corbin said.

“Ahh, well, I don’t know. No one really sees the Duke. Except his staff, I guess. They relay messages. He could be an actual Duke. Or someone who just calls himself that. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The point is that this isn’t a place with a sign or that is advertised or anything like that. It’s a secret. Something you tell people about who you . . .”

“Who you what?” Corbin asked.

“I don’t know. Trust, I guess? Or want to share the secret with. People who need something.”

“What does that mean?” Hayes asked.

“Sometimes, I just come here for a drink, to see my friends, to escape from my own head. It helps, and it’s a bit less adrenaline crazy than my other escape methods. It’s said that if you ask for something while you’re there, something you really need that is deemed worthwhile, then you’re granted it.”

Corbin glanced over at Hayes. What the hell?

“Look, I know it sounds crazy. But it happens. People share their needs, their wishes and sometimes, those things come true.”

“So you’re saying it’s magic,” Hayes said.

“No, I’m saying that perhaps sometimes the Duke or someone or something hears those wishes, and helps them come true.” She shrugged, looking slightly sad. “When I quit college and came back here I was in a dark place. I needed something to believe in. One of my friends was really worried about me and brought me here. A woman was sitting at the bar. She was in her early fifties. Her husband had died last year after a long illness, and she was in tears because she was about to lose her house. The following week when I returned, she was there again, smiling because someone had paid off her mortgage.”

“And she didn’t know who?” Corbin asked.

“No. But her wish came true and I’ve seen more miracles over these past ten months. And who wouldn’t want to hang out in a place where miracles happen? I mean, it’s got three of my favorite things, beer, miracles, and Cool Whip.”

“Um, Cool Whip?” Corbin asked. “That’s one of your favorite things?”

“Who doesn’t love Cool Whip?” she asked.

“You can buy all that at Walmart,” Hayes pointed out. “Well, except for the wishes. Is that one of your favorite places, too?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they started selling wishes. And yes, it is.”

“Why does a pub have Cool Whip?” Corbin asked.

“For the fairy tale cocktails, of course.”

“A bar that serves up wishes, beers, and fairy tales,” Corbin said. “I really have to see this place to believe it, I guess. Lead on.”

This wasn’t the sort of place he’d thought she’d want to hang out in.

He was still shocked that there really was a pub down this alleyway.

Who the hell created a pub down a dark alleyway that no one could see or should actually be walking down?

They reached a heavy metal door. There was no signage, just a keypad next to the door and a camera above it that turned to them as soon as they’d approached.

Bebe entered a number into the keypad and the door suddenly creaked open.

That wasn’t creepy or anything. They entered a small, grim foyer and waited until another door opened. A huge, bald dude with a scar across his forehead entered.

Holy shit.

The guy was so broad that he actually had to walk into the room slightly side-on. Corbin tensed and reached for Bebe just as the guy smiled.

It wasn’t a pretty smile. In fact, it was the stuff that nightmares were made of. Corbin was pretty sure that this guy could have played a role in a horror movie and he’d barely need to act.

So when Bebe threw herself at him, Corbin might have reacted badly.

As the big guy reached for her, Corbin grabbed her and dragged her back, pushing her behind him.

His heart was racing as he held her there. “Hayes! Get her out of here!”

He’d take on the behemoth himself, but this guy was not touching his Bebe.

“Corbin! This is my friend!” She attempted to get around him, but something inside him snapped.

She’d promised to obey.

And at the first hurdle, she was doing stuff like this. Half-turning, he glared down at her. “Didn’t you promise to obey me?”

“Us,” Hayes said.

“You need to let go of my Bebe-girl,” the behemoth thundered. “Before I rearrange both of your faces.”

“It’s all right, Shakespeare,” she said, holding up a hand to the bigger guy. “No need for any rearrangement of faces. Yet.”

Shakespeare? Seriously?

What the heck kind of name was that?

“Corbin, stop acting like this. I said I would follow the rules. If there’s a threat! But there’s no threat there. Shakespeare is a friend.”

Corbin took a deep breath in. “He’s your friend?”

She narrowed her gaze. “Yes. Why do you say it like that? Why couldn’t he be my friend?”

“Yeah,” Shakespeare rumbled. “Why couldn’t I be her friend?”

Shit.

He glanced over at Hayes, who was watching Shakespeare warily. But he shrugged at Corbin, giving him a wry look.

Fuck.

He’d overreacted.

“Uh, one moment,” he said awkwardly to Shakespeare. Then he turned fully to her, crowding her slightly back against the wall. “He’s your friend?”

She scowled up at him, crossing her arms over her chest. Damn, even when she was angry she was adorable.

“Yes, Corbin. Shakespeare is my friend.”

“You could have warned me.”

“Warned you? We’re going to a pub where I have a number of friends. Do you really need me to tell you every time I want to hug one of them?”

“When they’re the size of a bus and look like they wrestled alligators in a former life . . . kind of, yeah.”

She shook her head.

Yeah, he got it.

He’d really overreacted.

“Sorry?” he said.

“You shouldn’t say that to me. You should say it to Shakespeare. You’ve probably hurt his feelings.”

“He has feelings?”

She slapped his chest with her hand, and he frowned as she winced. “Of course he has feelings. Everyone has feelings. Well, unless they’re a psychopath, I guess.”

“I’m not,” Shakespeare said dryly. “And I have feelings.”

“Do you mind?” Corbin said. “We’re having a private conversation.”

“We’re not exactly in a cone of silence,” she grumbled at him.

“No, you’re standing a few feet away from us in a room with good acoustics. Now, do I get to have a hug from my best girl, or are you gonna let your jealousy get the best of you again?” Shakespeare asked.

Corbin whirled toward the big guy. “I’m her bodyguard. I wasn’t jealous of you.”

“Uh-huh. All the boyfriends and husbands are jealous of Shakespeare.” He smiled his creepy smile again. “Come here, Bebe-girl.” He gestured at her.

Bebe threw herself at him.

Shakespeare was wrong.

He wasn’t jealous.

He was possessive. And he wasn’t certain if that was worse.