Saved by the Devil (Devils Arms Book 3)

caught while out on a bad run. Luckily it was his first charge and he’d only gotten two years with a year of probation.
Meeting Hemp had given Peanut direction. He’d learned what it meant to be a part of a family. How life could be good despite his not so great history. He’d lost his mom the first year he was in prison. She’d gotten sick with a bad case of pneumonia and she’d died less than a month later. If he hadn’t met Hemp, he likely would have spent the rest of his life drifting in and out of the system. He’d been a ship without a rudder and having the club had saved him from that life. He had worked his way up to a patched member by the time he was twenty-five and was proud of that achievement. He was damned glad that life had led him in the direction it had eleven years ago. Otherwise he wouldn’t have his sweet little angel or his brothers.
“Dad, you’re not paying attention,” Jazzy grumbled, bringing his attention back to her.
“Sorry, Jazzy. I was just thinking for a minute,” Peanut apologized.
“I was asking when can I get my bangs cut? Can we go today?” she begged looking at him with those cute as hell puppy dog eyes. Peanut felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips and he wondered if there would ever be a time when he didn’t want to give her everything she asked for. He wouldn’t do it of course, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. She was his little girl and he wanted to give her the world on a silver platter.
“Not today, Jazzy. We have to get back to the house. I have to go over to help Uncle Viking handle something this afternoon. I can ask Star if she can make an appointment for next week,” Peanut said.
Jasmine looked disappointed but she nodded. “Okay,” she agreed before her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Maybe we can get our nails done again like last time!”
“Maybe, but that’s up to Aunt Star. She might not have time to do both. You might also have the boys with you if she can’t get someone to keep them,” Peanut warned before finishing off his burger.
“Boys ruin everything,” Jasmine complained, her arms crossed and her little lip stuck out in an exaggerated pout.
“It’s true, they most certainly do,” Peanut replied dryly. He couldn’t help thinking of teenage boys and their hormones. He really wasn’t ready for that and the longer she thought that boys were bad news the better.
“Dad, you’re a boy too, you shouldn’t agree to that,” Jasmine said, shaking her head and giggling.
“Huh, I’m a man, not a boy, so it’s safe,” Peanut said with narrowed eyes and a fake mean face. Jasmine shook her head.
“Dad, you’re silly,” she said before she went back to eating her chicken tenders. Peanut glanced over at the blonde again, his eyes meeting hers. She quickly looked away, but not before he noticed the fear that clouded hers. His jaw hurt as he ground his teeth again, hating the fact that he couldn’t take care of whoever had left those bruises on her. He didn’t normally feel the need to protect the world, but for some reason seeing them on her enraged him. Maybe it was her slight resemblance to Melony, he wasn’t sure, but his guts churned with anger.
He watched her for another moment before he turned back to Jasmine. He noted that she was picking at her food, making small shapes from her nuggets and lining up her fries like little soldiers. He watched her dip a chicken tender into the ketchup and the mustard twice. When the waitress came over to check on them, smiled and asked her for a box since Jasmine wasn’t really eating her food so much as playing with it. Jasmine didn’t protest when he spoke, so he knew she was finished.
He found his eyes back on the woman as the waitress left their table. He watched as she stood up and headed to the door, noticing that her movements were stiff, and wondered where else she had bruises. He felt an almost irresistible urge to get up and follow her, but gripped the table to stop himself because ultimately it was none of his business. Peanut was still telling himself that going after her was a bad idea when the waitress brought their check and the box he’d asked for.  He occupied himself with helping Jasmine put her food into the box, ignoring the way every part of him wanted to rush out the door to find the blonde.
He left enough money to cover the bill with a twenty percent tip and began guiding Jazzy to the door. He held the door open for her  and she was skipping and singing some song she’d learned from some show she watched constantly as she went through. He smiled softly, feeling a tenderness in his chest that always seemed to accompany her presence. He loved his daughter so damned much he almost ached with it. He worked hard to make sure she never had to suffer what had happened to Melony. He let the door shut behind them and took Jazzy’s hand to lead her to the car.
As he looked up, he noticed that the blonde was sitting down on a bench a few feet from the door of the diner. Her foot was up on it and it looked like she was tying her shoe. His eyes narrowed as he watched a younger man heading toward the bench. Something about the kid screamed trouble. He watched as the kid shifted from foot to foot as he paused near the bench. He glanced left and right before he reached down and grabbed her bag.
Shit. Damn it, that little fucking punk!
Peanut watched