Virgin's Daddy: A Billionaire Romance

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Virgin's Daddy: A Billionaire Romance Page 41

by B. B. Hamel

“Busy being a SEAL,” she said.

  I looked back at her and paused, caught by the way the light struck her hair. “That’s right,” I said.

  “How’d your parents go?” she asked.

  “Mom of lung cancer, Dad of an overdose about a month after she passed.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s a lot of tragedy for one family.”

  “Shit, my parents were assholes. They were criminals and addicts, lived their lives real hard. I’m surprised they lasted as long as they did.”

  “And your brother?”

  I frowned, looking down at his grave. “He didn’t deserve this,” I said slowly, “but he was an asshole too.”

  She cocked her head at me. “What about you? Are you an asshole, just like your family?”

  “Maybe,” I said, turning to her. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

  She looked at me for a second, a puzzled expression in her eyes. I grinned at her and started walking back toward the car. “Come on,” I said.

  “Wait. Don’t you want to visit more?”

  “I did what I came to do,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  She sighed and followed me. We climbed back into the car and I started the engine. She looked over at me. “Are you just going to drag me around behind you until this is all done?”

  I grinned at her, genuinely enjoying this moment. “I sure as fuck am. And you’re going to enjoy every minute of it.”

  “So far, you nearly made me climb out a window and took me to a graveyard. I’m not impressed.”

  “I also saved your pretty ass and fed you pancakes. I think I’m doing all right.”

  She cracked a small smile. “Yeah. You’re about even on the scorecard right now.”

  I put the car in gear and started driving. “We’re going to need to work on this attitude of yours,” I said to her as we hit the main road.

  “Attitude?”

  “Yeah. You don’t seem very grateful to the man who’s keeping you safe.”

  “I’m grateful that you saved me,” she said softly, “but I don’t know you.”

  “Guess not. I think you’ll enjoy our time together, though.”

  “See, that makes me think I won’t. You’re a cocky one.”

  “I’m only cocky because I know I can back it up. Like how I know that you’re dripping wet right now just thinking about me this morning, half naked. You looked at me like you wanted me to get into that bed with you more than anything.”

  “I doubt that,” she said. “Otherwise you would have.”

  I grinned at her. “Maybe I’ve got more self-control than you do.”

  “I doubt that even more, Travis Rock.”

  “All right then, Hartley. What’s your last name anyway?”

  “Baker,” she said.

  “Hartley Baker.” I smirked at her. “Definitely going to adjust that attitude before I’m done with you.”

  She made a face and shook her head before staring out the window, pointedly ignoring me.

  Fuck did I like her. I wanted to break her so badly, make her put down her defenses and spread those pretty legs for me. I could practically taste that sweet cunt of hers already.

  Ten more minutes of driving later and we pulled off the road onto a long gravel drive. It twisted up through the hills and finally spit us out in front of a squat cabin with a bunch of structures jutting off it. Junk was strewn about the yard, old farming equipment, cut-down trees, and other detritus from the years.

  Hartley stared at the place. “This looks like it was built by an insane person.”

  I laughed. “Well, you’re not too far off. Come on. Let’s go meet Markus.”

  “Markus?”

  “An old friend.” I climbed out of the car. “Markus! It’s Travis Rock!”

  Hartley stepped out of the car. The building was silent and looked like nobody had been inside it in years.

  “Looks like he’s not home,” she said softly.

  “Markus! Damn it, get out here,” I called out.

  “How do you know this guy anyway?” Hartley asked.

  “He’s a distant cousin of some kind,” I said. “Somewhere on my mom’s side, I think.”

  “I thought you said your family left Knoxville.”

  “I don’t really consider Markus family, exactly. More like a mentor in some ways. He’s a little strange.”

  “You don’t say.”

  I grinned at her. “Just be patient.”

  “I’m trying to be, but I’m a little out of my depths here.”

  “Don’t worry, girl. I got you.” I looked back toward the house. “Markus! It’s fucking Travis!”

  There was some noise from inside and then slowly the front door creaked open. Markus stepped out, holding a shotgun on his shoulder.

  He looked about the same as I remembered, except his beard had grown a bit grayer around the edges. Markus was tall and broad and a little fat, and he wore worn-out jeans with a fraying flannel shirt. His beard was unkempt, just like his long hair, which was pulled back loosely in a ponytail.

  “Travis?” he hollered back. “That you, boy?”

  “It’s me, all right,” I said. “Mind putting down that fucking shotgun?”

  He laughed and tossed it aside. “Ain’t even loaded. Come here, boy.”

  I smiled and walked up the porch and give him a big, warm hug.

  I’d always liked Markus, and it felt good to be around him again. Memories of my days as a boy in the local hills came rushing back, and I felt like just another green idiot again. I remembered the night Markus taught me how to capture raccoons, how to skin them, how to cook them, and how to eat them. He taught me how to shoot and how to fish. He was like a father, and a friend, and a close uncle.

  “How long’s it been, boy?” he asked.

  “Over five years,” I said as he let me go.

  “Damn. Look at you now. Not so scrawny anymore.”

  “You look about the same. Fat as ever.”

  He laughed loudly. “Fat! I’m just storing up my strength.”

  I grinned. “That’s what you always say.”

  He narrowed his eyes and looked past me. “Who’s this pretty little thing you got with you?”

  I looked over at her. “That’s Hartley.”

  “Damn, boy. She your woman?”

  “No, sir,” she said quickly. “We’re just friends.”

  I smirked at her. “That’s right. Great friends.”

  “Well shit, all right.” Markus leaned in toward me. “Better hit that soon, son. She’s ripe.”

  I elbowed him. “Knock it off. You gonna bring us inside?”

  “Yeah, okay. Follow me.”

  I motioned for Hartley to come on, and we followed Markus into his little cabin.

  The place was messier than I remembered, though not by much. Jars were scattered all over, and it smelled like moonshine, which wasn’t surprising. Markus made his living distilling liquor and selling it to the locals on the cheap. He cleared off the kitchen table and we sat down. He put three glasses down on the table and poured three drinks from a clear glass jar he had on the counter.

  “To fucking Knoxville,” he said.

  “To the Rock clan.”

  We clinked glasses and I watched Hartley take her drink.

  She nearly spit the damn thing out and ended up coughing. Markus laughed his booming, bear-like laugh, and I shot my moonshine back.

  “Damn stuff still tastes like shit,” I said, laughing. Hartley was slowly getting herself under control.

  “People don’t want it to taste any better,” Markus said.

  “Oh my god,” Hartley finally managed. “What was that?”

  I laughed at her. “Markus here makes some of the most disgusting moonshine in the state.”

  “It tasted like motor oil.”

  “You could degrease an engine with it, if you were wondering,” Markus said proudly. He poured three more drinks.

  “I don’t think I can,” Hartley s
aid, staring at her liquor with fear in her eyes.

  I smirked and shot mine back. Markus laughed and did the same.

  “Come on now, Hartley,” I said. “You gonna insult the man?”

  “That’s right. I’m feeling very insulted.” Markus gave me a wink.

  Hartley eyed us both and made a face. “You two are some asshole con men, aren’t you?”

  Markus burst out laughing and I grinned at her. “Just trying to make you feel at home,” I said.

  “No, thanks. I’d rather feel like an outcast than drink more of that.”

  Markus shook his head, grinning. “That’s okay, little lady. This stuff isn’t for most folks. It’s a little too hard for you soft southerners.”

  She made another face at him. “Soft southerners?”

  “You know, fancy folk, with lots of money and a nice genteel charm.”

  “Okay, you know what?” Hartley picked up the glass, took a deep breath, and then slammed the drink back.

  She managed to swallow the stuff. Markus and I burst out laughing as she placed the glass down on the table, looking a little pained and woozy. I had to admit though, I was truly impressed. Markus’s moonshine was absolutely disgusting, and it took a strong person to take one shot of it and then come back for another.

  “I take it back,” Markus said once we were finished laughing. “This girl has some serious balls, Travis.”

  “Damn right she does,” I said, grinning at her.

  “I don’t just have balls,” she said. “I have the biggest damn balls in this room.”

  That set Markus off again, and I just smirked at her, crossing my arms. There was something fucking strong about her that was so damn attractive to me. I was having a hard time keeping myself under control. I wanted to drag her out back and fuck her rough up against a tree, make her scream my name. I knew she could take it, and I knew she’d love it.

  “Okay, Markus,” I said finally as he calmed down. “Let’s get to business.”

  “Business? You got fucking business?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Well, information for start. What happened to this place since I left?”

  “Hmmm,” Markus rumbled, pouring us all more drinks. Hartley eyed hers but said nothing. “Long story, that is.”

  “Give us the short version.”

  “Short version is, the economy went to shit and now everyone is fucking poor.”

  “What about the Dixie Mafia?”

  Markus scoffed. “Those fuckers? Pieces of shit moved in and took serious control about three years back. They started selling meth, and that shit just exploded as soon as the bottom dropped out the housing market.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “People like them, they take advantage of people’s desperation. It’s sick, you know. And this meth shit is killing folks all over the place. Crime is at an all-time high, and that’s saying something for Knoxville.”

  “Damn,” I said, glancing at Hartley. “What’s the local PD doing about all this?”

  “The sheriff don’t give a fuck. They’re all bought by the Dixie assholes,” Markus said. “Lots of honest folks are getting bought out of their homes as the developers start swooping in. You see the construction on the way into town?”

  “Yeah. I noticed that.”

  “That’s all from Dixie money. They’re evicting locals and building these big-ass cardboard fucking houses for rich folks to get a taste of the country life.”

  “Seems like that might be good for the town?”

  Markus spit right onto the floor. “Fuck that shit, Travis. Knoxville don’t need no rich ass strangers coming into our town and changing everything for us. Besides, it’s just making the Dixie assholes richer, and that’s not good for anyone.”

  I nodded slowly. “Is anyone standing up to them?”

  He shrugged, drinking his moonshine. “Sure. Some folks are. I’m sure as hell not cooperating with them. But their biggest problem is the Caldwell family.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Caldwell? I know that name.”

  “Yeah, you would.” He frowned. “Ray was seeing that one Caldwell girl. Jane Caldwell.”

  I blinked as that memory clicked into place. Jane Caldwell and my brother were like the king and queen of the fucking school back then. She was pretty, thin, and popular, the kind of girl every guy wanted a piece of. My brother locked her down early and they were never apart all through school.

  She was in the car the night my brother died. Ray wasn’t wearing a seat belt and was thrown through the window. Fortunately for Jane, she had her belt on and managed to walk away from the accident with cuts and bruises.

  I didn’t see her after the accident. I was angry with her for a long time. I never much liked her anyway, since I didn’t go for those stuck-up girls, and so it was easy to pretend like she’d died right alongside my brother.

  “What are the Caldwells doing?” I asked.

  “You remember all their land up in them hills?”

  “Sure do.”

  “They’ve been running drugs over the border between here and Sellerton. Apparently they got some big backers up around there. Them and the Dixie assholes have been in a little war ever since the Caldwells started muscling in on their turf.”

  I shook my head, surprised. “I thought they just did ATV tours up through those hills.”

  “They did and do, but they also sell drugs and guns now, too.”

  “Why?”

  Markus just shrugged. “Hell if I know. Happened about a year before the Dixie assholes really started making moves. They’ve been in competition ever since.”

  I sighed and drank back the moonshine, letting the warm burn enter my stomach. Knoxville sounded the same, but it was totally different, too. The Mafia had more sway in town than I had realized, but the Caldwells fighting against them was a surprise. I didn’t expect any locals to try to push back against them, but apparently I was wrong.

  “All right, Markus,” I said. “Thanks for giving me the rundown.”

  “Anytime, boy,” he said. “You in town for a while now?”

  “Could be,” I said, glancing at Hartley. “I got some business to take care of.”

  Markus sighed. “What are you mixed up in these days?”

  “I’m a Navy SEAL, Markus. I’m not into this crime shit.”

  “Maybe,” he said, “but I know you, Travis. I taught you to hunt and to fish. I know what your mind is like, and you’re a restless one. Take care of yourself.”

  I grinned at him and stood up. “I always do.”

  Hartley and Markus both stood up. Hartley smiled at Markus. “Thanks for the moonshine,” she said.

  Markus laughed. “I like you, girl. Stick around.”

  She just smiled and nodded as we headed back toward the front door. Markus walked us out and I followed Hartley down the front steps.

  “Stop by again, especially you, Hartley,” Markus called out.

  Hartley laughed. “Okay. We will.”

  Markus waved as we got back into my car and I pulled out, turning around and heading back down the road.

  “So, what did you think?” I asked her.

  “Of Markus or of the moonshine?”

  I grinned. “Both.”

  “Markus seems nice, maybe a little crazy, but nice.”

  “That about sums him up.”

  “And the moonshine was disgusting.”

  “Right on the money.” I laughed, shaking my head. “You impressed him, though.”

  “Not hard to impress men like that.”

  “How do you mean?”

  She shrugged, looking out the window. “Men like him see a cute little blond southern girl. All you need to do is prove you’re not a pushover and somehow you’re incredible.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Hartley, not many people can stomach the swill he gave us, little blond girl or not.”

  “Maybe,” she said, and we drifte
d into silence.

  I couldn’t get a fix on this girl. One second she was all self-confidence, and the next she was looking down on herself. Markus held people to high standards, and impressing him was a real feat. But apparently, Hartley didn’t think so, and I couldn’t figure out why.

  Maybe she was used to be treated a certain way her whole life. The girl was fucking gorgeous, after all. Maybe she wasn’t used to throwing back shots with real men.

  I had a feeling she’d learn, though, and learn fast, especially if we were getting involved with the Dixie Mafia.

  7

  Hartley

  The moonshine felt like fire in my stomach as Travis drove back into town.

  I couldn’t believe I’d drunk that stuff. Really, it was the foulest liquor I’d ever put to my lips. It wasn’t the first moonshine I ever drank, but it was by far the most disgusting.

  I didn’t know what the heck I was doing in this car with this strange man. I’d already visited his family gravesite, which was weird enough, but then we had to go and spend time with his crazy hill person cousin or whatever he was. When Travis saved me from those Mafia assholes, I never imagined I was going to get a very intimate tour of his life.

  But the man was interesting, very interesting. I had to admit, he had a lot of pain in his past, but it was incredibly amazing that he somehow rose above it all and became a Navy SEAL. That was no small accomplishment. I could see it in his body, in the way he moved, the skills he had and the serious way he spoke. He’d handled Hoyt the other night, in the face of death, like it was no big deal.

  Travis was something else, a kind of man I’d never seen before. He was a cocky asshole, a real southern jerk, but he was also much more than that.

  “Where are we going?” I asked him.

  “To your place.”

  “Know where you’re going?”

  “I figured you’d tell me.”

  I sighed, feeling a little lightheaded. “Okay then. Know that little dry cleaner with the cowboy statue out front?”

  “Sure do.”

  “I live above that.”

  He laughed. “No shit. Is your landlord James Duncun?”

  I nodded. “He’s a creep.”

  “That he fucking is.”

  Travis took a turn and headed back toward my apartment. We rode for a few minutes in silence, and I noticed him looking back into the rearview mirror a few times.

 

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