Daddy's Sweet Girl (Montana Daddies 3)

Her precious T.V.

Her outrage gave her enough courage to push the door open with her foot, step inside and yell out, “if you’re still in there, you might want to run now because I’ve called the cops and they’ll be here any minute.”

Someone walked out of the living room. Only they weren’t running. And they weren’t trying to hide who they were. Dark, angry eyes turned on her.

“You better fucking not have.”

Chapter Eight

The bag of groceries slipped from her hand. She winced as it hit the floor, knowing the likelihood of her having an omelet for dinner had probably just been destroyed. But that was a fleeting thought, since most of her attention was on the man standing too close to her.

He’d been a cute kid with his dark hair and olive skin. He had a tall, thin build. Although he was leaning towards gaunt at the moment. Worry stirred and she pushed it aside.

He’d never cared about her. Except, for when he was younger. And that was why she couldn’t let go. Because every time she tried to pretend she didn’t care, she remembered the sweet little boy who’d hold her hand as they hid under her bed while her mother fucked whoever she’d brought home that night.

Abby had often wondered whether her mom brought those men home for fun or if she’d charged them. Then she’d decided she didn’t want to know.

They had to have different fathers. Even though neither of them knew who their father was. Abby’s hair was a lot lighter, her skin far paler.

None of which really mattered right now, since he’d just broken into her house and scared the living daylights out of her. And made her drop a bag of groceries that were supposed to last her a week.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“You better fucking not have called the cops!”

Before she realized what he was doing, Max had his hand wrapped around her wrist and was yanking her forward. Her foot connected with the bag, sending food flying.

“Fuck! You’re making a fucking mess, Abby!”

“Me?” she snapped back, trying to free her hand. “You’re the one who broke into my house, damaged the door and scared the shit out of me. What do you think you are doing! And let go of my wrist, you’re hurting me.”

“You’re gonna get fucking hurt worse if the cops come here.” He slammed her back against the wall, kicking the door shut before letting go of her wrist. She cradled it to her chest as it throbbed, knowing it was going to bruise. Hoping like hell he hadn’t done more damage. The last thing she needed was to be unable to work.

Max loomed over her and her heart raced. She knew he was capable of violence. It was the drugs. He never really meant to hurt her. Or at least that’s what she told herself. With him standing so close that the stale scent of his sweat and the stink of tobacco clogged her nose, and the heat of pure fury in his eyes, it was hard to believe that he wasn’t very much intent on doing her harm.

“Did you call the fucking cops?” he spat out. She shuddered as bits of saliva hit her face. Gross.

“No,” she muttered. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. Maybe she should have said yes and he would have taken off.

He let out a deep breath, taking a step back and running his hand through his scruffy, greasy hair.

“Shit, Abby, you scared ten years off my life.” He certainly looked a good decade older than twenty-two. His clothes were stained and hung on his skinny frame. And there was a hunted feel to him. His eyes darted around as though he was expecting someone to jump out at him at any moment.

Definitely on something.

Tread carefully, Abby.

“What do you want, Max? What are you doing here? Are...are the cops after you?” A pretty good assumption considering what he did. And how he’d just threatened her when he thought she’d called them.

“Cops? I don’t care about the fucking cops. Bunch of pussies chasing their own tails.” He barked out a laugh.

“Then why did you just threaten to hurt me?” she asked. She probably shouldn’t ask. Sometimes those sorts of questions tended to backfire on her.

He turned so quickly towards her that she flinched back, having to hold back a whimper of fear. She hated that she was so scared of him.

She wished she could stand up to him. Could tell him to get lost.

“Why do you look so scared, Abby?” he asked in a soft voice. And in that moment, he almost sounded like her brother. Like the boy she’d helped raise. But she knew he wasn’t. He was dangerous. An addict. And like any addict he’d do what he needed to in order to get his next fix. And if he hurt her along the way then so be it. He gently touched her cheek. “I’d never hurt you, Abs.”