Page 55 of Mountain Man Daddy

Prescott excelled at everything, except making friends. He was always a loner and never associated with any of the other kids. Mike had no clue what any of that had to do with him or why Prescott had become so obsessed, but he pored over the files again anyway. Mike had grown up in a middle-class family as an only child. His dad was a cop, his mom a schoolteacher and neither had a drug problem. He’d lived an ordinary, unremarkable life.

Mike arranged some backup to stake out the local bars, but it was more important he find Avery while he knew Prescott was out. She was on his mountain, a mountain as familiar as the back of his hand. She had to be in one of the hunting shacks up there, and he’d need to search them fast. Prescott wouldn’t be gone long.

With the sun long down, it was cold. At night, it still dipped to barely above freezing, even though the days were warm enough to… he pictured his little girl tied to the tree, her eyes shuttering as he brought her to ecstasy. Mike’s breaths came in quick puffs as he trekked faster up the mountainside. It was a hell of a lot farther than he needed to go, but he decided to park in a remote area several miles from the mountain in case someone was watching him. God only knew what Prescott was up to, who he’d enlisted, and what would happen if Mike wasn’t careful. And then there was the dangers of nature itself—hungry animals, or mudslides in the quick thaw. Prescott would no sooner take his little girl than nature would. He would not fail again—he couldn’t. Avery was his life.

The first hunting cabin was in ruins, but he checked it anyway, smashing the door open wide and leaving it hanging from the hinges. His heart rate had skyrocketed when he searched but quickly fell when he found nothing more than scattered beer cans and dead leaves and debris. The second cabin was in better shape but was still empty. He wanted to fall to his knees and scream, but he had to keep searching. He ran faster than he thought possible up the rough terrain, leaping over rocks and bushes to get to where he’d seen another hunting cabin. His little girl was on this goddamn mountain, and he’d find her if he had to tear it down boulder by boulder.

When the third one came into view, he knew she’d be there. There were fresh boot prints in the wet mud. He flew over the picnic table between him and the cabin and slammed his shoulder into the door to bust it open. It splintered against his weight.

Avery sat in the middle of the sparsely furnished cabin, tied to a chair. Her head hung limply, her blonde curls covering her face. His heart felt as if it had skidded to a halt in his chest. She looked dead. He howled angrily.Not her! Not his little girl.

“Avery!” He knocked the table out of his way with a raging swipe of his arm and when the single unoccupied chair fell to its side and split, Avery’s head came up. Mike’s heart started at a frenzied pace, and he felt dizzy. He cursed, slid across the floor on his knees ignoring the splinters and cradled her face in his two big palms. He kissed her hard.

“Are you okay, baby? Talk to me.” She’d been drugged, he could tell. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and looked hazy. Her face was puffy and swollen when she looked at him.

“Jesus, I thought you were dead! Come on, honey, talk to Daddy, let me hear your voice.”

“If I… had’ve known… these chairs turned to kindling so easily… I would have tossed myself on the fl—.” He cut off her murmured drug-fogged words with another kiss and then pulled his hunting knife from his belt. He sliced the plastic ties quickly and dropped the knife to rub the sting from her wrists.

* * *

“Never mind. Please… let’s go.” Her eyes roamed the room, slowly and unsteady. “This rescue seems way too easy… convenient. Anticlimactic, yeah?”

“You were never his target, Avery. He got what he needed. He only did it to prove he could. It was all to manipulate me.” He grabbed the knife from the floor. “But you’re right. Let’s go, just in case.” He took her hand and kicked the broken chair pieces out of their path. She was wobbly and stumbling a bit, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and bent to scoop her up.

“No, I need to walk. Please.” He nodded and tightened his grip on her waist.

“It’ll get me out of this fog faster.”

“Okay, honey, but hurry.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?” he answered, dragging her faster.

“He shot Rocky.” She swallowed a sob. He only kissed her head and pulled her on. “And I got a partial license plate number.”

“You did good, honey. Really good.” She slid and stumbled, but he caught her. His soft voice encouraged her, but she was so tired.

“Poor Rocky. We need to find him. We can’t leave him out here.” A lump welled in her throat. She hadn’t had time to grieve when she was in the shack since she had been fighting for her own life, but now she felt the loss.

“We will. But right now, we have to get you back.”

“I saw Alex,” she whispered, her eyes searching Mike’s face. “I saw you talking with him. How is he still alive? Why is he here?” She’d watched him die months ago. She’d seen the blood. No one could have survived a shot to the chest like that. But somehow, not only was he alive, but he washere,on Mike’s mountain. Had he followed her, even after the way things had ended between them?

“Please, fill me in. I need to know,” she asked, her words slurring from the drugs. She stumbled again and he caught her.

“Avery, you need to concentrate. I’ll carry you if you don’t.”

A part of her almost wished he would. She needed to feel safe in his arms again, but she didn’t want him distracted while Prescott was still on the loose. “Okay. I’ll be quiet for now.”

“Screw this, little girl.” He grabbed her up in his arms. “This is where you damn well belong. Now no arguing.”

When they finally got to his cabin, Avery was shivering uncontrollably.

“Come on. You’re probably in shock.” He looked her in the eye and pushed her hair back, running his thumb along her forehead scar. “You’re not staying here, but I want you to sit for a minute in front of the fire and drink some water. Okay?” Avery nodded and sat on the sofa. Her teeth chattered, so he pulled the throw blanket over her. She suddenly stood, her eyes wide and wild. “I need a pen and paper. I need to write down the license plate number.” He placed both hands on her shoulders and pushed her back down. Picking up the blanket, he tucked it around her.

“I’ll get it.” He went to the drawer and took out a pad and pencil. He handed it to her and sat beside her while she scribbled the letters down. “Excited being nobody,” she murmured and then looked at him. “We’re not staying here? Where are we going?”

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