by Kara Kelley
“This is delicious, by the way.” She smacked her lips. “It would be better with my bread though. It’s a recipe that you can do a few different things with—whole wheat and honey, cinnamon raisin, garlic and cheese, or even just plain bread, and it’s one that’s really hard to screw up.” She clunked the bread again, ignoring his long, low growl.
“You’re still insulting me, missy,” he said, after the last scoop of stew emptied his bowl. “Okay, on one condition.” He smoothed his beard.
“Name it.” She curled her lip at the bread still beside her bowl. “Anything to avoid eating this.”
“You go straight to bed when you’re finished.”
“Finished? Like, as in, once I’ve consumed this rock?” She swallowed hard when he nodded.
“Out here, we don’t waste.”
She yawned loudly, and he continued. “Little girl, you can’t manipulate me.”
Her lids felt more like they were made of cast iron than little flaps of skin. She seemed to need an awful lot of sleep since the accident.
“And if I choose not to eat it?” She pressed her lips together to stop herself from giggling at his stern look. “Will I have to sit here until I do?”
“In your condition? No, but another spanking would be in order.” He shoved his sleeves up, and her belly flipped again.
“But my bum’s too sore!”
“A little tender perhaps, but nothing like it’ll be if you don’t eat up.” He rubbed his hands, stood and grabbed her empty bowl. “If you’re not going to eat it, off you go, little girl. I’ll be in with a wooden spoon in a minute.” Then as he stacked his own bowl on top of hers, he winked. “I think I use it better than I bake bread, what do you think?”
She shoved the whole piece in her mouth and took several swallows of water to wash it down. He watched her struggle, shaking his head. When she had finally choked it down, she stood.
“Can I help with the dishes first?”
“No.” His answer came with a stony expression that kept her protests where they were. “Do you need me to tuck you in?” Her smile was slow, and when she bobbed her blonde head, it broke his hard expression.
“Go on then. There’s a pair of thermal underwear in the second drawer if you’re cold. I’ll be in in a minute.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied sweetly, and he chuckled.
Her heart wobbled in her chest as she entered his room. Had she ever been tucked in before? She imagined her parents had done that, but she had no recollection. Her grandparents certainly hadn’t. Alex had snuggled with her at first until it became apparent he was only with her for what she could give him. What was Mike’s motive? Sex? No, that had been a surprise to them both. He was just a good man. She shook off the vulnerability that started to strangle her. She took the thermals out of the drawer and began dressing.
Tomorrow, first chance she got, she’d crack that box in the closet, take what she could, and get the hell out of this place. She didn’t need anyone. She just needed to survive on her own—find a little place and job she didn’t hate and live a quiet, simple life. A small voice told her that she’d spend that quiet life looking over her shoulder, and regretting leaving Mike, but she couldn’t think about that now.
She peeked at Mike, his back to her as he washed their bowls. She felt a stab of regret. He’d been kind to her, kinder than anyone had ever been, and it hurt her to think about betraying him. That would be her only regret, she decided, even though deep down she knew it was a lie. Mike was someone special, and even though she didn’t deserve him, she wanted him. A whole life with him.
Staying here with him, playing house and having sex would only hurt him—if not from finding out about the crimes she’d been forced to commit to survive, then when Eddie and Moe found her. Alex’s lifeless body flashed in her mind again, only when Moe rolled him in her grim recollection, it was Mike’s face instead. The ache in her chest was so encompassing she fell to her bottom on the bed. Mike was too good to die because she wanted to be with him. No way. She was out of here first chance she got.
“Are you in bed yet, little girl?” She heard his chuckle and felt more sadness seep in. It was kind of nice to pretend for a while. One more day, Avery, she told herself. Storm or not, she’d leave tomorrow. For now, though? She’d be his little girl.
* * *
“Nope!” She snorted at his growl and scrambled onto the bed as he flew around the corner, sliding in the room on his wool socks.
“Lucky,” he said and then bit his lip as he looked her up and down. “You’re drowning in those!”
“I know.” She got onto her knees, put a hand on her hip, and made a model pose. The neck was so low it barely covered her breasts to the nipples. “Aren’t I sexy?”
“Get into bed,” he groused, and when she turned to crawl under the covers, he swatted her backside where the opening drooped and bared her to him.
“Ow!” She covered her bottom and shot him a pouty look before she shimmied into the bed. It made his heart pound. She was the kind of girl he’d dreamed of, so playful, cute, and flirty.
“That’s my good little girl.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
She was frowning when he pulled back.
“What’s wrong?” He pulled the blankets up under her chin.
“Nothing.” She shrugged, and he gathered a breath.
“Spill.” His brow arched when she huffed.
“I like when you call me little girl, but it reminds me of another nickname I had.”
He sat his hip on the bed and pushed her hair back off her forehead.
“It upsets you to think of it.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway. “What was it?” he asked, searching her eyes.
“Mouse.” He half smiled at her. “Well, you’re cute like a mouse, and I can easily see the mischief you could cause when no one was looking.” He tapped her nose. “Why were you called that?”
“I used to think it was because I was small and cute, but now I believe it was more about being gullible and easily led into a trap.”
“A trap?”
“Never mind.” She rolled over, and he heard her sniff. He moved his hand to touch her but stopped himself. He shouldn’t. Touching her would only make him want to curl up behind her and stay the night with her.
He was enjoying her company and the fun they were having, but the reality was she was trouble, and he was, too. There was a reason he’d segregated himself out here in the wilderness. He had nothing to give anymore. His life was here, alone.
Another sniff and his heart twisted in his chest. He cursed wordlessly.
Five minutes, he told himself, and he climbed into the bed and held her until she fell asleep.
* * *
Avery’s eyes popped open and darted around the room. A noise had startled her. What was it? She strained to hear above her loud breathing and pounding heart. Had they found her? The dark was so inky, it looked solid, so she reached out to the nothingness. No street lights or light pollution in the mountain wilderness to break the dark of night, but then the moon, half full, came out from behind a cloud and her eyes adjusted. She froze. Two silhouettes entered the room. Her breath stuck as she tried to scream.
They’d found her. They were here to kill her.
Hands grabbed her, pressing her against the mattress. She struggled and fought, kicking out and slamming her fists and connecting only some of the time with flesh, but the man who was grabbing her was too strong. Her wrists were encircled in a firm grip and pressed hard against the headboard. The sheets weren’t helping, her legs tangled in them even before the man straddled her hips. She was trapped.
“There’s my sweet piece of ass,” the voice—Eddie’s voice—said in a cruel low whisper and her stomach soured. “Oh, I’ve been searching so hard for you.” He shoved his hard cock against her hip and laughed. Avery tried to scream again, but like before nothing came. “Where’s the money, bitch?”
Finally, a strangled cry bu
rst from her mouth and her limbs were free and swinging, at first connecting with nothing and then with flesh again. Groans and grunts were music to her ears as her target was struck repeatedly, and she escaped the bed to stand, ready to fight for her life.
“You killed Alex, but you won’t kill me,” she gasped as the lamp clicked on. The sentence, “You’ll never get the money,” died on her lips. Her mountain man daddy, concern marring his handsome features, stood in front of her. His hair was unkempt and loose around his shadowed face, and his eyes were wild. His breath came fast and hard, but she could see he was ready—ready for anything—ready to rescue her once again.
“Mike?” She blinked at him and felt relief shiver through her. He pushed her hair back from her face and cupped her cheeks, his eyes holding hers for a few seconds before she searched the room fearfully for Moe and Eddie. It had felt so real.
“It was just a dream, baby girl. Just a dream.” His hand smoothed her face. She clutched his biceps and licked her lips, looking past him at the doorway, now that she knew the bedroom was empty.
“What were you dreaming?” His eyes pinned hers when she looked back to him. Avery swallowed hard. Fear zipped through her—this time it was fear of losing the only man who had ever made her feel safe.
“I-I don’t remember,” she lied. His brow cocked, and he pressed his lips together but didn’t speak. He pulled her against him, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her back.
“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. Could everything be 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? Was he a 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 i
t. 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 to kill. 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.
