Something inside him shifted right then. He was too old for this girl—too damaged and controlling. The last thing someone like Amelia Bennett needed was a man like him becoming obsessed with her. Unfortunately, it was already happening.
“You saved my life,” he said quietly.
Her expression softened immediately. “That’s my job.”
“No.” His voice lowered. “You cared whether I lived or died.” The room grew still again, and color rose in her cheeks. That was when Graham realized something terrifying—the sweet little doctor had no idea how beautiful she looked when she blushed.
“You should get some rest, Mr. Calloway,” she said softly.
Graham held her gaze. “Call me Graham.” For a second, she hesitated, like she knew accepting that invitation changed something between them.
Then her lips parted. “Okay,” she whispered. “Get some rest, Graham.” His name on her lips nearly ruined him, and as she walked toward the door, Graham made a decision that would probably change both of their lives. By the time Dr. Amelia Bennett finished her shift tonight, flowers wouldn’t be waiting for her. Neither would chocolates. No—that wasn’t enough for the woman who had saved his life. Graham intended to spoil her properly, like the princess she didn’t realize she was yet.
A Princess for Daddy (Dirty Daddies Book 3) Universal Link-> https://books2read.com/u/472ReN
Next up! You won’t want to miss Property of Buck (Kings of Anarchy MC Book 2) coming in July 2026! Here’s a sneak peek!
Buck
Six Months Earlier
The blood looked black against the snow. Buck crouched beside the carcass of the wolf and studied the bullet wound in its shoulder. The animal had been dead for less than twelve hours and had been shot execution style. This wasn’t a hunting incident, and the animal wasn’t killed because it was a threat. Someone had shot it and left it to rot. It was the kind of thing that made Buck's temper rise fast.
"Third one this month." Buck looked up at the sound of Ghost's voice. He approached through knee-deep snow with his rifle slung across his back and a cigarette hanging from his lips. Ghost stopped beside him and looked down at the dead wolf, and his expression darkened immediately.
"Fucking cowards,” Ghost growled. Buck nodded. The northern wilderness stretched around them for miles. Its endless forests, frozen lakes, and untouched land were all part of the Kings of Anarchy territory in Manitoba. The area was protected territory, and nobody was supposed to be out here—at least not without permission. Yet somebody kept showing up—poachers, trespassers, smugglers. It didn’t matter who it was because if they were killing wolves for sport, then the Kings would get involved. Buck hadn't figured it out yet, but he intended to.
Ghost kicked the snow lightly. "This one got a collar too." Buck's eyes narrowed at the tracking collar around the wolf's neck, which had been damaged deliberately, but not enough to destroy it completely. It was like somebody wanted the data erased.
Buck carefully removed the collar and slipped it into his pocket. "We'll have to get the Canadian Wildlife Service involved and have them look at it." Ghost nodded and then looked toward the tree line. The easy humor he usually carried disappeared instantly.
"You feel that?" Ghost asked. Buck did. Something was wrong. The woods felt different today. They were too quiet, and no birds were chirping, and there was no movement. His instincts started screaming, and Ghost noticed too. The two men exchanged a look, and then simultaneously reached for weapons. Years together made communication unnecessary.
A branch snapped somewhere ahead, and Buck stood slowly. The snowstorm rolling in from the north muted everything except the sound of wind through the trees. A figure appeared—a man in a heavy coat and snowmobile gear. He was armed and froze as soon as he spotted them. Buck's eyes narrowed because he knew that the man wasn't hunting or trapping. He definitely wasn't local. The stranger turned immediately and started running.
"Well," Ghost sighed. "That's suspicious." Buck was already moving, and the chase lasted less than five minutes. The man seemed to know the terrain, but Buck knew it better. They caught him near an abandoned logging road. Ghost tackled him off the snowmobile, and Buck took his weapon. The strangerfought hard, seeming panicked and even a bit desperate, which told Buck everything he needed to know. The man wasn't afraid of getting arrested. He was afraid of being forced to talk. Buck hauled him to his feet.
"Who are you?" he shouted.
The stranger spat blood into the snow. "Go fuck yourself."
Ghost grinned. "Well, I like him already." Buck ignored that. His attention stayed fixed on the man's jacket and the small symbol that had been stitched onto the shoulder. Three slashes through a circle. Buck had never seen it before, but something about it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The man saw where Buck was looking and smiled, like he knew something Buck didn't.
"You boys have no idea what's moving through these woods,” he said. Buck's grip tightened, and the stranger laughed. "You think this territory belongs to you?"
Ghost's expression hardened. "Careful." The warning was ignored, and the man looked directly at Buck.
"There's money flowing through this province that'll make your little biker club look like a daycare." Buck felt it then—the truth buried beneath the bragging. They weren’t running drugs or guns. They were running something else through the woods—something bigger.
The stranger leaned closer and whispered the words that would change everything. "You're already too late to stop it, too." Buck's stomach tightened as headlights appeared through the trees. The stranger saw them too and smiled triumphantly.
Before Buck could react, the man bit down hard, and blood filled his mouth instantly. "Shit!" Buck shouted. “It’s poison.” Ghost lunged forward, but it was too late. The stranger collapsed into the snow and was dead before he hit the ground. Silence settled over the forest as Buck stared down at the body and the symbol stitched onto the jacket. He looked back at the dead wolfnearby, and for the first time in years, something felt bigger than the Kings and their territory. This was bigger than club business.
Ghost crouched beside the corpse. "Well, that took a turn.” Buck didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the symbol—three slashes through a circle. It was a warning; a threat. It was the beginning of something ugly.
Ghost followed his stare. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
Buck nodded. "Yeah." The north had a problem, and somewhere out there, people were dying because of it. Buck didn't know it yet, but his entire world was about to spin off its axis. Standing there in the snow beside a dead wolf and a dead stranger, he knew one thing—war was coming, and Buck Lawson had never been very good at backing down from a fight.
