Five Mountain Daddies

by B. B. Hamel

  I grab Cora’s arm and pull her back to the car. We get inside as fast as we can and we pull out of there quick.

  “Nothing,” she says softly. “We got nothing. Why were you asking him about Kristi? We already saw her.”

  I turn to her and grin. “Think about it,” I say.

  She screws up her face. “Don’t be an ass.”

  “I just showed that your theory might actually be right.”

  She chews her lip a second, and I see it suddenly click. “He knows her,” she says. “He knows her well enough to guess where she is, or he actually does know.”

  I grin huge. “Either way, that means that they both could be involved in this. And that ‘J’ your mom mentioned might actually be Jaxson.”

  “Damn,” she says softly, laughing. “That’s devious.”

  “It’s about the best we could hope for,” I admit. “More than he wanted to give us, at least.”

  “What now?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Now, we keep working the case.”

  She grins at me and we drive in silence. My mind’s working on a ton of levels, but most of me is thinking about how beautiful Cora looks when she smiles, and how easily she’s taking to this investigation stuff. She’s smart as a whip and sexy on top of it.

  I should be able to say no to her. But my god, I really can’t. I just want more.

  But that threat Jaxson threw at her still lingers in my mind, and I’m torn all over again.

  11

  Cora

  When I’m back home alone in my apartment, I can’t help but think one thing: he’s going to leave me soon.

  I know it’s irrational. That’s part of the deal. Wyatt has his own life back in the city, he couldn’t just put everything on hold and just live out of that motel. It’s costing him money, time, effort, and I can’t repay him for any of that.

  Still… I had hoped he’d stay. We’re getting somewhere already, and he’s only been here a few days. I feel like we’ve done more investigating together than the whole Mason police department has since Atticus died. We’re actually making inroads, getting things done.

  When he’s gone, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t keep poking around the Niners, although obviously they know what happened to Atticus. The look on Jaxson’s face when we confronted him was pure anger and hatred, and the only thing holding him back was Wyatt. If I try to keep investigating Jaxson without him, well, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up like Atticus.

  I pour myself a glass of wine. I sit down cross-legged on the couch and sip it before opening my laptop. I scroll through Facebook, idly looking at profiles, not really thinking about what I’m seeing.

  I find myself on Wyatt’s page, pulled like a magnet. He barely ever uses it, but there are pictures there. He has friends, family, a whole life in Chicago, and some stupid part of me thought that he might want to put all that aside and help me.

  No, that’s not true. I sigh and glance at the time. It’s a little after midnight, and I know I need to get to sleep.

  I want him to stay because I want him. I can barely admit that fact to myself, so I don’t know why he could possibly leave his whole life aside somehow. I can’t even tell him how I feel, that I want something with him more than just a professional relationship.

  I want his hands on my body. I want his lips against my neck. I want to moan his name as he presses me up against a wall and pins me there.

  I have so much guilt about this. I should be thinking more about Atticus and less about having sex with Wyatt, but I can’t help myself. Ever since I saw him back at the funeral, standing there and looking so stoic and handsome, I knew I had to talk to him again. I have so many memories with him, but they all pale in comparison to the intense desire that’s rolling around in my gut every time I see him.

  I finish my glass of wine, rinse it out, and put it in the dishwasher. I stretch a little, resigning myself to sleep, when my phone starts to ring.

  I give a little jump and my eyes go wide. It has to be him, calling to say he wants to see me. It’s irrational, I know, but it’s the reason I’ve been staying up so late. I keep thinking he’ll call.

  I run over to my phone, grab it, and answer without looking at the screen. “Hello?”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

  I pause, taken aback. The voice is definitely not Wyatt’s, and the tone… this person is angry.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Listen, you little cunt. You think you can solve your brother’s murder?”

  “Who is this?” I ask, suddenly afraid.

  “Stupid bitch.” The man laughs. I think it might be Jaxson, but no, the voice isn’t right. “I know where you live. I was in your trash, remember?”

  A chill runs down my spine. I glance around the room and walk over to my blinds. I peer outside, but it’s quiet and empty. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to back off,” he says. “Tell your little boyfriend to fuck off back to Chicago.”

  “Who is this?” I ask. “Why are you so afraid?”

  “Stupid fucking bitch,” he spits. “You want to die next?”

  “Did you kill my brother?” I ask softly.

  “No, but I know who did. And I’ll send him to fuck your ass with a gun before killing you. Back off, stupid bitch, or we’ll kill you and your whole goddamn family.”

  He hangs up the phone. I stand there, staring at the screen for a second, before slowly sinking down into a nearby chair.

  The guy’s words keep ringing in my ears. He knows who killed my brother, and I might be next.

  Me and my whole family, which is really just my mother at this point.

  All because of what I’ve done. I pushed too hard, investigated too much. Wyatt’s leaving, and once he’s gone, I’ll have nobody to watch out for me.

  I’m going to get killed. The realization hits me fast and hard, makes the breath seep from my lungs, leaving me gasping for air. I realize that I’m having a panic attack, but that doesn’t matter. My heart is hammering, my ears are ringing, and I can’t breathe.

  I stumble into the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face before curling up on my bed in the fetal position, terror ringing through me. Slowly, my breathing becomes normal again, and I can actually think.

  I need to tell Wyatt. He may not be able to protect me, but maybe he can get someone who can. Maybe he can convince the local cops to watch me and my mother.

  I head back out into my living room and grab my phone again. I pull up Wyatt’s number and send him a text.

  “I need to see you,” I say. “Something happened.”

  He answers me just as I finish getting my clothes on. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m coming to your room,” I tell him.

  There’s a short gap before he sends me the room number. I slip my phone into my pocket and head downstairs, out to my car, and pull out of the driveway.

  I could probably just tell him what happened over the phone, but I have the sudden and intense urge to see his face. I don’t know why, but I don’t think I can sleep tonight without talking to him in person. He can calm me down, get me to see that everything will be okay.

  Maybe he’s not staying, but at least he can make me feel better. At least for tonight.

  12

  Wyatt

  I pour myself a whiskey and sit down in the ratty old leather chair that’s perched in the corner of my room. I sip the drink and wait, my gun loaded on the desk next to me.

  I don’t know what to expect. I look at my texts again, the mysterious message from Cora, and I try to figure out what it is. Maybe someone showed up outside of her house again, but I doubt she’d want to leave her place if that’s the case. Maybe she just got spooked and wanted to get out.

  Or maybe she’s coming over because she doesn’t want me to leave.

  I shake my head, trying to get rid of that thought. Of course she wants me to stay. She wants me to work this case and find her brother’s killer,
nothing more than that.

  She’s not coming over because she wants to take her clothes off slowly and let me touch every inch of her skin.

  I sip my drink, savoring that tight burn as it goes down. Truth is, that’s what I want. Fuck all this other shit happening in this garbage town. Fuck Atticus for getting himself killed and for being a wedge between me and Cora. I just want her here, lips pressed against mine, hand on my throbbing cock.

  I can’t think of the last time I wanted someone this badly. Whenever I wanted something in the past, I always got it, always got a taste. I’m the fucking Lovemaker, I can always get any piece of pussy that comes my way.

  This though… this is different. This situation with Cora is so fucking complicated, and there are so many layers between us. Atticus is the specter that haunts us, but it’s not just him. I’ve known Cora for a long time, so it’s our childhood memories that are wrapped up in this thing we have going on, whatever it is. I know she’s feeling it too, I’ve seen the way she looks at me.

  But if I’m going to work this case, which I’m definitely not going to do, I can’t get involved with her. I’m going home tomorrow, but if for some reason I do stay, I have to keep my distance.

  I grip my glass. I can’t think like that. I can’t keep leaving myself room to stay here. I have to commit to leaving and just get back to my life. This place isn’t my home anymore and Atticus isn’t my fucking problem.

  I stare at the wall, fighting with myself. If something bad happens to her, I’m responsible. I got her in the sights of the Niners. Before, she was still under the radar, and who knows what would have happened. But with my help, now they know who she is, and that’s my fault.

  Can I really just tell her good luck and run away from this? I’m not that kind of fucking man, but I also don’t know how I’m going to drop everything in my life and stay here to work this case.

  I’m torn in half, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I should never have agreed to help her, but I couldn’t stop myself. She’s so fucking gorgeous, and every ounce of me itches to touch her, to taste her, to make her feel good.

  I finish off my whiskey just as there’s a knock at my door. I stand up and hesitate, still not sure what she’s coming here for, but ready to find out. I walk over and pull the door open.

  Cora stands there, arms wrapped around herself, a slight frown on her face. Instantly, I know this isn’t a good visit. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

  She nods. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” I step aside and she walks into my shabby little room. I shut the door behind her and follow her in.

  She turns to me. “Got anything to drink?”

  “Just whiskey.”

  She nods. “Fine. Okay.”

  I grab another clean glass and pour her a little bit and myself another. She takes the drink and tosses it back in one go, making me raise an eyebrow.

  “Okay, tell me what’s wrong,” I say to her. “Did someone come to your house again?”

  My heart’s hammering, imagining them coming near her again. If those fucking scumbags hurt Cora, I’d kill them, every single one of them.

  She shakes her head. “I got a phone call,” she says.

  I steady myself. “What did they say?”

  “Threatened me.” She turns to the bottle and pours another drink. “Said that what happened to Atticus would happen to me, too.”

  I take a sharp breath. “Do you know who it was?”

  She shakes her head. “I couldn’t place the voice. I don’t think it was Jaxson.”

  I frown a little. “Someone else from the Niners.”

  “Wyatt, they’re threatening to kill me.”

  I nod, keeping my voice steady. “I know. But they won’t.”

  “Why not? They killed my brother.” She sips her whiskey this time, not throwing it back, and makes a face.

  “It would be way too much trouble to kill you,” I say. “That would guarantee the cops would descend on them.”

  “Do you think they care? They’re thugs.”

  I shrug a little. “True, but they’re thugs that kept themselves from getting busted for this long.”

  “Maybe. But you didn’t hear him.” I notice her shivering, and she turns back to the window. “I think he meant it.”

  I step up behind her and gently turn her around. She looks up at me, fear and worry clear on her expression, and I feel something deep down inside of me.

  I don’t hesitate and I don’t think about it. I pull her against me and I tip her chin up toward me. She doesn’t resist as I slowly kiss her lips, gently at first, until she presses herself against me harder, melting into the kiss.

  I don’t know how long that kiss lasts, but it feels like hours. I kiss her low and deep, tasting her, letting the desire I’ve been keeping pent up inside of me rush out along my skin. I want to take her so badly right now, press her down against the bed, slide my cock between her pretty little lips. I want to hear her beg and moan my name, over and over, sweating and working and pressing herself down.

  But more than all of that, I know I can’t run away. I have a responsibility now. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten involved, but I did, and I’m way more involved than I ever could have guessed. Maybe I didn’t fully understand it until now, but this kiss, it’s waking something up inside of me. I’ve been keeping it away, but it’s here now, and I can’t get rid of it.

  She breaks the kiss off. I know I wasn’t going to be able to do it. She steps back, looking surprised. “We shouldn’t,” she says.

  “You’re right.”

  “Shit.” She knocks her drink back.

  “Listen, it’s okay.”

  “I have to go.” She walks past me, toward the door.

  “Wait, Cora,” I say, walking after her.

  She quickly leaves. I get outside and call after her again, but she doesn’t look back.

  “Fuck,” I say softly, frowning as she hurries toward her car. I watch her get in and drive off, and I don’t go back inside until her taillights disappear around the corner.

  Maybe I fucked up by kissing her, but I couldn’t help myself. And at least now I know something for sure.

  I’m not going anywhere. I started this, and now I have to see it through.

  But not for Atticus. I’m doing this for Cora.

  13

  Cora

  I can barely sleep that night. The kiss and the phone call keep playing through my mind. I alternate between excited, filled with pure desire, and terrified of what might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for me.

  I climb out of bed with the sunrise. Wyatt’s leaving today, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I shouldn’t have run away like I did, but it was all too much. I felt overwhelmed and afraid, and I just ran away like an idiot.

  I wanted to stay there, let him kiss me, let him take me. I wanted to feel him, taste him, let him take every inch of my body… but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Maybe I was too afraid, or maybe the timing was off, I don’t know. I just knew I had to run away, and so I did.

  Now I regret it. I make myself some coffee and sip it at my kitchen table, trying to decide what to do. I can probably drive over there now, thank him for what he did for me, but that’s stupid. It’ll be easier if I just let him go, clean and clear and free.

  He doesn’t owe me a damn thing. So why do I want him to stay so badly?

  I finish one mug and pour another. I put on the news and scroll through Facebook, killing time, trying not to think too much about the coming days. I have more time off work, the rest of this week, and then it’s back to my normal routine, back to my life.

  But I don’t know if my normal life is still there, waiting for me, or if it’s been completely destroyed by everything that’s happened.

  I finally drag myself into the shower and force myself to get dressed. Around eight in the morning, I’m ready for the day, although I have no clue what the hell I’m going to do.

  At least unt
il my doorbell buzzes. Fear spikes inside of me, but I quickly push it back. If they’re going to come for me, they’re not going to ring the bell first.

  I walk up to it and open the door. Wyatt grins at me. “Morning,” he says.

  “Morning,” I answer, surprised. “I thought you were going home.”

  He shrugs. “I got a plan.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “A plan?”

  “Sure, a plan. Come on, we should get going.”

  “Get going?” I stare at him as he walks back to his car. “Wait, Wyatt, I thought you were leaving.”

  “Not just yet, princess.” He grins at me. “Come on, let’s go.”

  He gets into his car and I stare at him, totally bewildered. But a second later, I’m turning off my TV, grabbing my purse and keys, and locking my door. I feel like I’m pulled to him like a planet getting pulled into a black hole, and it feels pretty damn good.

  I get into the passenger’s seat and we head out. We drive in silence for a little bit until I realize where he’s going.

  “What’s the plan?” I ask him finally. “We’re heading out to Kristi’s, aren’t we?”

  He nods. “We hit a dead end with Jaxson. I probably shouldn’t have pressed him like that. But I think we can get more out of Kristi.” He makes a face and shrugs. “I just have a feeling.”

  I nod and watch the road. “I think you’re right.”

  He glances at me and smiles slightly. “I know. I’m damn good at this.”

  I roll my eyes at him but I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face.

  We get to Kristi’s not long later. Wyatt knocks, but she’s not home. Her mom rasps something about a local bar and a casino.

  “Probably holed up somewhere, doing drugs. You want me to call her or somethin’?” her mother asks.

  “That’d be nice, if you can,” Wyatt says.

  “Just don’t get her arrested,” she grumbles as she heads inside.