Page 23 of Mountain Man Daddy

“No one’s getting past me, baby. You’re safe.” His whisper went right through to her heart.

When she stopped trembling, he led her to the bed and helped her back in. She looked at him over her shoulder and bit her lip. He nodded without her even having to ask.

“I’ll stay with you tonight.” He chuckled. “That damn couch is too small for me anyway.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” It felt so natural, and she rolled toward him once he was next to her. He lifted his arm, and she tucked into him, burying her face against his chest. “I was so scared.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby. No one’s going to hurt you.” She nodded, his hot skin fuzzy with chest hair tickling her cheek. His breathing and heartbeat calmed her further. With her lids heavy, she fell asleep trying to match her breathing to his.

* * *

When he left in the morning, after giving her a kiss, an apology, and a firm instruction to go back to sleep, she rose quietly.He held me all night.She couldn’t remember anyone ever holding her that way. It had been wonderful, yet also worrying. She needed to leave before she got used to it.

Avery shuffled along the floor and peeked out the window. The sun was shining, and water dripped steadily from the roof. The storm was not only over, but the snow was melting at a rapid rate. The birds chirped, and she watched Mike walking with Rocky down the side of the mountain. The snow was still high, almost to his knees, but he trudged through as did the bear. He had a fishing pole slung over his shoulder and a tackle box clutched in his hand.

She dressed quickly, throwing her jeans on over his saggy long johns. She couldn’t bear to part with them. They smelled like him, and wearing them made her feel like he still held her close. She grabbed the lockbox out of the closet and felt the weight of it triple in her hands. She was an awful person. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and fiddled with the lock. She only took a few minutes to fool with it before she gave up and set it by the door. She’d do it later. She needed to get out of here. She did a quick sweep of all the rooms looking for anything that would be helpful. She found a decent hunting knife, a flashlight and batteries, and some bottled water. The backpack was the next treasure she discovered. It was hanging on a hook by the front door. She packed it with another set of long johns and some socks, as well as a couple of his flannel shirts. She put the leftover stew in a thermos and almost tripped over the braided rug in the kitchen as she rushed to shove it in the bag.

Looking back, she scanned the room one last time. The floor was uneven under the rug. Her eyes narrowed. Kicking the mat aside exposed a door, so she stuck her finger in the loop hook, turned the latch, and let the door drop into the floor. She peered down, but it was black. The air was cold but not as cold as outside. Riffling in the backpack, she found the flashlight.

For a split second, she wondered if Mike was a murderer and there was a body beneath the cabin. Why else would he live all alone and off-grid? She shivered. No, that was silly. He was a great guy, one that had taken care of her in her time of need. Another shiver followed, but this time it was caused by guilt. He was a great guy, so why was she stealing from him? Why not ask him for help? She knew the reason though. He’d look at her differently, knowing she’d been thieving this whole time. The things she’d done to survive were awful. There was a ladder, so she climbed down into the cold, dark room. She almost went right back up the ladder when she saw it was only a cold storage room for food, but then she saw her purse on a shelf in the corner.

Scrambling to it, she found that everything was there. The gun, the money, her toiletries, and the cell charger rolled up in her change of clothes. Her heart stuttered in her chest. And the phone, Becca’s phone. She picked it up, pressing the home button. It bleeped, signaling low battery, and she quickly checked for a signal and let out the breath she was holding. None.Thank God.But was it sporadic? Had he heard her messages? Read the texts?

Even if he hadn’t, he knew she had a gun and a lot of cash. The average person didn’t carry a handgun, let alone a wad of money. Had he figured out she’d stolen the Jeep? He was a smart guy, there was no doubt of that, so why hadn’t he turned her in? Or at least confronted her?

Her mind went to the spankings he’d given her. Couldeverythingbe solved with a spanking? Could she tell him all she’d done, and be spanked and forgiven? She shook off the thought. She wished things were easy and uncomplicated, and that she could just stay here with him and let him keep her safe, but she knew it couldn’t be that simple.

Eventually, he’d want answers and spanking couldn’t absolve her from what she’d done. It wouldn’t solve the mess she’d made. Spanking wouldn’t help the sweet old lady on the bus who’d lost her money because she’d trusted Avery. It wouldn’t help the guy who’d given her a waitressing job, only to end up with an empty register and a missing gun. And there were many more on her list. All the names, addresses, and amounts were recorded in her notepad, and one day she’d pay them all back. She’d have to add Mike now too. “Stop! You don’t have time for this. He could have already turned you in.” Had the sex and spanking been a way to stall her until the authorities arrived? She had to hurry. She shoved the phone back into the purse with the other stuff and headed to the ladder.

A black bag caught her eye as she was about to climb back up. She stepped over a bin of potatoes and crouched to open it.

“Shit!” It was filled with cash—a lot of cash. She threw it over her shoulder, and left the cellar swiftly. She paused at the front door long enough to put her purse and the rest of the goods she’d left at there, including the lockbox, into the bag. Grabbing his coat on the way through the door, she left the cozy cabin. Why did he have that much money hidden in his cellar? Washea criminal? Good God, she had slept with a frigging stranger, who for all she knew could be a hitman, a bank robber, a mafia man! She thought of the cash and gun in her purse.Maybe we deserve each other.

Chapter Eight

The snow was higher on her legs than it had been on Mike’s, and navigating was harder than she’d imagined. She was soaked, cold, and scared. Although she was rushing, she was getting nowhere fast. There was more urgency now that she knew he’d had her stuff all this time.God, I should have known better. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice…

When she finally made it to the Jeep, it was buried in partially melting snow. She brushed it off, took the hammer from the toolbox in the back, pulled the metal box from her bag, and started smashing at the lock. It was too cumbersome to keep the box itself, so she needed to ditch it. It only took four or five good whacks before the latch fell off, lock still intact. When she opened it, her breath stuck.

Inside there were pictures, and—she shuddered—a Royal Canadian Mounted Police badge. Mike was an RCMP officer! She leaned against the car, taking in deep breaths, feeling panic strangle her lungs. She shoved the pictures in the box aside and picked up the badge. It said retired along the bottom, but retired or not, if Mike was former RCMP, why the hell hadn’t he turned her in? Surely the cops would have been there by now if he had, unless—Did Moe’s connections reach across the border? Had Moe asked Mike to hold her there until he arrived? Was Mike a corrupt cop, too? That would explain the significant amount of cash. She dropped the badge as if it burned her fingers and quickly dumped the contents of the box into her bag. She felt dizzy. Fleeing was even more vital now.

As she climbed the embankment, holding chunks of crusty wet snow and small trees for grip, she heard the cat. Its yowl chilled her to the bone, soured her stomach, and made her bladder weaken, and when she spun and saw it, a scream caught in her throat. A sinewy cougar with a mouth full of teeth and its ears pressed back stared at her. It was still, and low to the ground—ready to pounce, ready tokill. Its eyes pinned hers, and a low growl rumbled from the back of its throat.

Avery trembled. Mouse before a cat. The faces of her loving parents, grainy like the old photograph she kept in her wallet, her grandparents, cold and frowning in disapproval, and sweet, fun-loving Becca, and then Alex, the jerk who ruined her life, all their faces flickered like an eight-millimeter film through her mind, but the reel stopped playing on Mike.Her mountain man daddy. Mike, the man who’d saved her twice, who’d been endlessly patient and made her feel completely cared for in the few short weeks since she’d been with him—even though he knew she had a gun and cash and was probably bad news. She concentrated on the cat then. She eyed it, knowing if she looked away for even a second, it would pounce.

It was one thing to die by moose but a whole other to be torn to pieces and eaten alive by a wild cat. And dammit, Avery was tired of being prey.

She slowly reached into the bag, keeping her eyes trained on the cat. The gun was in there, tucked in her purse, and just because she’d never used one didn’t mean she couldn’t shoot and make a noise. How hard could it be?

She coaxed herself to be slow even though she wanted more than anything to rush—to shoot—to save herself. When the cold metal touched her hand, she released the breath she’d been holding. The cat still stared with its hungry green eyes watching her. She shook as she pulled the gun out and felt along it for the safety. She wasn’t going to be Meow Mix, that was for damn sure.

“Don’t move!” Mike’s voice was stern and fearful all at the same time, but relief flooded her. “She’s got cubs. She’s aggressive and probably hungry from the storm.”

“No shit,” Avery answered.

He pointed his shotgun into the bush near the cat, and as he did, she rounded on him with a piercing yowl. Mike was closer to the cat, and the sight of him in danger made tears spring to Avery’s eyes. She could make up for stealing a purse, cash, and a gun, and even stealing and wrecking the Jeep, but she couldn’t fixdead. If Mike died because of her, she’d never forgive herself.

She watched his finger slowly find the trigger, but before he could fire, Rocky came bounding out of the bush. The cat screeched, flattened her belly almost to the ground, and swiped her vicious paw. The bear probably outweighed the cat by a hundred pounds, but the cat had speed and agility on her side. She took off. Rocky followed but only at the slow lumber of a creature not seriously interested in tangling with anything.

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