Page 58 of A Very Daddy Christmas

We regroup at the bottom of the slope and go through the details of the incident with the head of the resort’s security. Naturally, he and his team are pissed off about it.

“They could’ve harmed innocent people by trying to get to you,” the former Navy Seal lieutenant says, his brow furrowed as he keeps looking around, perhaps hoping he might see the fuckers again. “My team are already out there, combing the woods. But the main road leading into the nearest city isn’t that far away.”

“Chances are, they had a car waiting,” Waylan says. “This was well planned. Not well executed, but it’s probably because they don’t know enough about us.”

Cora is shaking, the adrenaline beginning to wear off. “I can’t believe it.”

“You could file a police report,” the head of security says.

“We will, rest assured,” Sebastian replies.

“And we will gladly cooperate and provide them with all the camera footage we can muster. I’ll send you copies as well. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to liaise with my boys and see if we can figure out how those assholes made it all the way up here undetected.”

I nod slowly. “You might want to have a look at your guestbooks, as well. You never know.”

The thought has crossed his mind, judging by his expression. He nods and walks back up the trail, radio in hand as he reaches out to his men. I can hear their voices garbling and fading, and I wonder if they found any trace of the assassins whatsoever.

A moment passes in heavy silence between the four of us.

Waylan and Sebastian try to work out a plan for what’s left of our trip. I’m distracted by the look on Cora’s face. The doubt. The fear. There are words left unspoken, and I can tell from the way she’s fidgeting that she’s trying to figure out how to say them.

“We already know the resort itself is heavily secured,” Waylan says. “And after what just happened, it’s only going to get tighter.”

“So, technically speaking, at this point, we’re safer staying in our suite than leaving,” Sebastian concludes with a soft nod. “It kind of makes sense. Doesn’t make me feel less uneasy about it, though.”

It’s not our safety we’re concerned with, of course. It’s Cora’s. And Dario’s. Waylan seems to have the same thought at the same time.

“I’m calling Sherry,” he announces.

Sebastian frowns as I tell Waylan to tell her to make sure the alarm system is activated at all times. He nods and makes the call.

I look at Cora and ask, “Something on your mind?”

“I’m just going back to what Orson St. James told me when we last spoke, in the back of his limo,” she mumbles. “Actually, he said it more than once. He’s not in control of the consequences to my stubbornness, so to speak. That I shouldn’t blame him ifsomething happens. He made a promise, and now he can’t keep it because of me.”

“It’s got to be Denaro,” Waylan says, shaking his head. “Nobody else makes sense.”

“The Chicago mobster?” Cora gives him an inquisitive look.

I exhale sharply. “He’s got the goons and the firepower. But what worries me is why doesn’t Denaro simply outbid you on the escrow? I’m sure he’s got the financial means for something like that.”

“What if he doesn’t?” Sebastian chimes in, his eyes widening with a new realization. “That has to be it. Denaro wants the building, but he doesn’t have the cash to outbid Cora and her sister.”

“There are aspects to this supposition that still don’t make sense, though, if we’re to follow this theory. Why did St. James promise Denaro the building?” I ask.

“They’re up to something,” Waylan says. “They need that particular building. I have no clue as to why, but it’s worth refining our line of questioning. We clearly have a few more parameters to work with now.”

He sounds irritated. Then again, so am I. We’re missing important aspects from this picture. Answers that could lead us to evidence against St. James and Denaro. And where does George Hamilton fall into all of this?

“Hold on, Hamilton was supposed to buy the building,” I remind them. “But Hamilton doesn’t have five hundred grand, either.”

“Oh, there’s some food for thought,” Sebastian scoffs, bitterly amused.

“Food for thought aside, this is getting beyond dangerous,” Cora says, her voice filled with raw emotion, tears pricking her beautiful eyes. I hate to see her like this. “What if they go after Eva next time? The girls? Carl or Dario? They could be targeting all of us, for all we know.”

I pull her into my arms and press my lips against her forehead. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you or your family, Cora.”

“You’re not invincible, and those bastards are clearly determined,” she mutters, visibly struggling to relax in my embrace. I understand, more than she might think. Fear is a powerful thing. It warps one’s vision, and it opens the mind to faulty, self-sabotaging thoughts. “What if they catch you by surprise, and you get hurt?”

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