Under His Protection

Chapter 2: Beneath the Surface

The sound of footsteps faded, leaving the bar in an uneasy quiet. Taylor still felt the adrenaline rushing through her veins as she watched the door swing shut behind the men. Travis hadn't even flinched when they came in, but she wasn't naïve enough to think that his calm came from inexperience. No, Travis Kelce was the kind of man who had faced danger before—probably countless times.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and glanced at him. He sat there, as if nothing had happened, as if the threat from moments ago was just a minor inconvenience in his otherwise controlled world. But there was something deeper, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Travis looked tired. Not physically—he still had the same solid, intimidating presence—but emotionally. Like he was carrying a weight far heavier than anyone could see.

"Thanks for the show," she said, trying to break the tension. "Next time, maybe warn me when you're bringing trouble through the door."

Travis gave her a small smile, but his eyes didn't quite match it. "Trouble tends to follow me, sweetheart. Hard to keep it out."

Patrick leaned back in his chair, completely at ease, as if moments like this were just part of the routine. He threw Taylor a wink. "Hey, at least it makes your shift more exciting, right?"

Taylor shook her head but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. "If that's what you call exciting, I'll take boring any day."

Ross Travis, silent as always, observed everything with sharp eyes. He hadn't said a word during the confrontation, but Taylor knew he was as dangerous as they came. There was a coldness in him that made her uneasy. Not like Travis, who had walls she could sense but not see through yet. Ross was all business—calculating, quiet, deadly.

The group settled into a more relaxed atmosphere, but the tension still clung to the edges, unseen but felt. Taylor knew better than to ask too many questions, but she couldn't help herself this time.

"So... those guys," she started, refilling Travis's glass. "They just part of the life?"

Travis took the glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip. He set it down and leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing just a bit. "Yeah. They're part of the life."

She waited for him to continue, to maybe open up like he sometimes seemed close to doing, but the silence stretched between them. It was the same unspoken barrier, the same wall he had up every time he walked in here. She wanted to push, to understand what made this man tick, why he lived the life he did, but she knew better. That was the line, and once she crossed it, there'd be no going back.

Patrick, sensing the heaviness of the moment, broke in with his usual charm. "Let's not bore Taylor with all this mafia talk. We're here to unwind, right?"

Travis gave a slight nod, though Taylor could see the weight of the conversation still lingered on his shoulders. He wasn't a man who unwound easily—he was always watching, calculating. He leaned back on his stool, a casual gesture, but his eyes stayed sharp, always tracking the room.

The door swung open again, and for a split second, the tension spiked in Travis. But when a couple of regulars wandered in, he visibly relaxed. Not that it would be obvious to anyone else, but Taylor had started to pick up on the subtleties of his behavior. It fascinated her, how someone could seem so in control but also so constantly on edge.

"So," she said, shifting the subject to lighter ground, "what do you guys do for fun? Or is it just business all the time?"

Patrick grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, we have fun. Right, Ross?"

Ross's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Depends on what you call fun."

Patrick laughed. "See? Always the optimist."

Taylor couldn't help but laugh too. There was something about the dynamic between the three men that intrigued her. They weren't just partners in crime—there was a bond there, a kind of loyalty that went beyond business.

Patrick stretched, glancing over at Travis. "Actually, I've been trying to convince this guy to take a break. He's been working nonstop, but you know Kelce, always too serious for his own good."

Travis shot him a look, but it wasn't harsh. It was more like an unspoken agreement, a way of acknowledging that Patrick wasn't entirely wrong. He took another sip of his whiskey and then turned his attention back to Taylor.

"People like me don't get the luxury of breaks," he said quietly, and there it was again—that heaviness, that weariness that she'd glimpsed before. He wasn't just tired from work. He was tired of the life. But he couldn't leave it. That much was obvious.

For a moment, Taylor forgot about the danger he represented. She saw the man underneath—the one who, despite his power and reputation, was trapped. She didn't know the details of how he got to where he was, but she could sense that it wasn't entirely by choice.

"You ever think about getting out?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Patrick's smile faltered, and Ross shifted slightly, as if the question had made the air colder. But Travis just looked at her, his gaze intense, piercing. It was as if he was deciding whether to trust her with the answer. Finally, he set his glass down.

"Sometimes," he admitted, his voice low. "But it's not that simple."

Taylor nodded, understanding more than she let on. She'd run from her own life once—left behind a mess that she couldn't fix, and ended up here. She knew the feeling of being stuck in a world you didn't fully choose.

Before she could reply, Patrick broke the tension with a grin. "Let's not get too deep, huh? We're supposed to be relaxing."

Travis smirked, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. Relaxing."

Taylor moved to the other end of the bar, giving the guys some space. But even as she cleaned up, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had just glimpsed something real beneath the surface of Travis Kelce. He wasn't just a crime boss. He was a man who had built walls around himself, walls that even his closest friends couldn't fully breach.

But for some reason, she felt like he let her see a crack in those walls tonight. And that terrified her as much as it fascinated her.

Later that night, after closing up, Taylor lingered in the empty bar. The quiet felt heavier now. She thought about Travis—about what kind of man he really was, underneath the violence, the control, the power.

She'd heard the stories. She'd seen enough to know that getting close to him was dangerous. But somehow, every time he walked through that door, she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was the only one who didn't fear him, the only one who saw the man behind the reputation.

Or maybe she was just fooling herself. Maybe she was seeing what she wanted to see.

But as she wiped down the bar one last time, she couldn't shake the feeling that, in a way, they were alike—both caught in lives they didn't fully choose, both searching for something they couldn't quite name.

And that scared her more than anything.