Hold Safe (Biker Daddy Bodyguards #3) - Sue Brown
Mo Carstairs could hear the shouting from the moment he stepped out of the elevator.
“Morning, darling,” he drawled at the receptionist. “Like the new hair.”
She preened, patting the bouffant platinum locks, and pursed her bright red lips. “You just cost me twenty bucks, Mo.”
Mo raised an eyebrow at the unusual greeting. “Oh?”
“Office pool,” she informed him. “I thought they’d never get you back through the doors again.”
A cheer went up and he saw a small group of men huddled around a cubicle all glancing his way, some of them looking more cheerful than others.
Mo bowed, then flipped them off to raucous laughter. “Not my choice, honey.”
“And yet here you are,” she pointed out.
“Curiosity only. I haven’t taken the job yet.”
She gave a bark of laughter. “That’s what they all say. Look at Quinn. Go on. They’re waiting for you.”
“I can hear,” Mo said, as another burst of shouting erupted from the conference room.
She grimaced. “It’s been noisy. Good luck with that one.”
“Is Dominic in there?”
“He is. And Quinn. You know where you’re going?”
“I do.” He gave a lazy wave and headed toward the conference room, noting the office had been redecorated since the last time he was here. He preferred the previous duck egg blue to the new light gray and cream.
As he reached for the door handle there was another burst of furious shouting. He opened the door to find seven men, three on the far side of the conference table, four with their backs to Mo. One guy stood, hands on his hips, facing off against a copper-haired man Mo knew all too well.
The yelling stopped as all eyes turned to Mo.
Mo leaned against the doorframe. “Is this a stand-off,” he drawled. “Or are you just pleased to see me?”
One week earlier
Mo wasn’t surprised to find Quinn Ryder on his stoop. He’d been waiting for his arrival. Quinn’s companion was not the one he expected but more welcome. Both were clad in motorcycle leathers, and their faces were bright red from the freezing temperature.
Mo folded his arms across his chest and gave them a flat, unfriendly stare. “Get lost.”
“Yeah, not gonna do that,” Quinn responded, unfazed.
He’d never met Liam Quick from QuickFire Securities, but Mo knew he was always involved at the beginning somehow.
“We’ve taken over from QuickFire,” Quinn said. “It was kinda stupid, Liam being involved in local issues, seeing as he’s based in London. And, before you ask, Cooper sends his love but he’s trying to save the universe or something.”
Mo grunted. “I’m not interested in helping you, so you can go now.”
Quinn took off his gloves and blew on his hands. “I need a drink. It’s freezing out here. At least let us inside the door to warm up.”
Mo frowned at him. “One coffee, if you’re going back tonight.”
“Just one,” Quinn promised. “The roads are too icy for us to stay long and I don’t want to leave Cade on his own overnight.”
Mo hadn’t noticed the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since the morning. “Is it bad?”
“Yeah, I want to go back in the light.”
Mo looked at the serious-looking younger man standing beside Quinn. He’d matured since the last time Mo had seen him, all hard lines and tight muscle. “Craig, I heard you were back in the country. Quit running yet?”
“Maybe,” Craig said laconically. “It’s good to see you again, Mo. It’s been too long.”
They hugged, clapping each other on the back. Then Mo hugged Quinn and shoved them both in the direction of the kitchen.
Quinn slipped out of his motorcycle jacket and ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair. “The place is looking good, Mo.”
Mo glanced around his newly remodeled kitchen with pride. “I’ve had time to work on it. Where are you guys living now?”
“I’ve moved in with Cade.” Quinn pulled a face. “We’re trying to move, but our work keeps getting in the way. Maybe when Cade finishes the new album we can try again.”
Quinn’s new boy was Cade Connolly, a pop superstar and talented artist. Both men were workaholics and never seemed to sit down for one minute.
“I’m living with Louis,” Craig said. “No plans to move yet. He needs stability.”
“How’s your boy doing, Craig?” Mo asked as he went to the coffeemaker.
“He’s struggling to get over the assault. Now we know who arranged it and why, it’s getting easier. It was all so fucking illogical. But at least Louis has finally admitted he needs counseling for the PTSD.”
Mo was touched that Craig trusted him enough