Page 13 of Daddy Enforcer
I watch as Max grabs an axe, his plaid shirt stretching across his shoulders as he swings it down, splitting a log clean in two.
Wow again.
That’s… hot.
His muscles flex, his jaw set in concentration, and I’m staring, my breath fogging the glass. I should be mad, should hate him for putting me in a timeout like a kid, but all I can think about is how strong he looks, how in control.
My body’s tingling once more, and I’m torn between wanting to run out there and yell at him and wanting to… what? Curl up in his arms?
I press my forehead against the cold glass, trying to cool my thoughts.
Zane’s words keep circling in my head—safe, secure, free.
Is that what this feeling is? Max’s rules, his stern voice, they’re making me feel something I’ve never felt before, like I could let go and he’d catch me.
But that’s not me. I’m Billie B, independent, unstoppable. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.
So why can’t I stop watching him, my heart racing as he swings that axe again, the wood splitting under his strength?
And why does the thought of pushing him again, just to see what he’d do, make me feel so alive?
Chapter 6
Max
“Hell yeah,” I grunt, swinging the axe and bringing it down to slice the wooden block perfectly down the middle.
The axe feels good in my hands, solid and heavy, as I swing it down once more, splitting another log clean in two with a satisfyingcrack.
The cold mountain air bites at my knuckles, but the burn in my muscles is welcome, a release from the tension that’s been coiling inside me since we got to this cabin. The snow’s falling steady now, dusting the ground around the woodpile, but I’m warm under my plaid shirt, my breath puffing out in white clouds.
I need to get this fire ready for tonight—when the sun dips, this place will turn into an icebox. But it’s not just the cold I’m thinking about. It’s him. Billie. The pop star prince who’s turning my mission into something I didn’t sign up for…
“And another one,” I chuckle, splitting a new log and watching as it topples onto the rapidly building pile of firewood on the ground.
I turn and glance through the cabin window, quick and subtle, checking on him. Billie’s still in the corner, facing the wall, hands on his head, just like I told him.
Good.
You be a good boy for me.
I’ll keep you safe, and you might learn a thing or two along the way…
My chest loosens a bit, a flicker of satisfaction cutting through my usual guarded focus.
Billie’s taking the timeout like I ordered, no sass, no arguing. That’s a damn miracle, considering the tantrum he threw over lunch—crumbling bread, stomping his foot, whining about his fancy fruits.
But now? He’s following my rules to the letter, and it’s a relief. If shit hits the fan on this mission—and that coded message from Mr. G says it might—he’ll need to listen fast, no questions asked.
A quick response to an emergency order could mean the difference between life and death. Billie’s new-found compliance now puts him in good stead, and I’m happy to see it, even if it’s just a small victory.
I heft another log onto the chopping block, my muscles flexing as I swing the axe again. The physical activity feels good, grounding me, pulling my mind away from the danger lurking in the shadows and the boy inside who’s testing every ounce of my control.
I’ve been on edge since that message, the one hinting at a threat tied to Billie’s fame.
It’s not just some crank fan, I can feel it.
My instincts, honed from years of dodging bullets and outsmarting evil men of all kinds, are screaming that there’s more to this.
