Possessive Daddy Next Door

“Hang on!” Max yells as he swings around.

I scream and grab him as the cart goes up on two wheels. We’re inches from teetering over and Max is laughing, his eyes wide and wild. The cart turns around and rights itself, slamming back down. I jostle against him, my body pressed up against his. We speed back toward the SUV, but the second man climbs into the passenger side and the car peels out.

Max tries to chase but they disappear down the road.

Patricks comes jogging over. “What the fuck was that?” he yells.

Max stops the cart and shrugs. “Almost had him.”

“You have no clue who those men were!” Patricks is livid and Morrison’s face looks horrified. “They could’ve been guests or—”

“They weren’t,” Max says. “Guests don’t linger around like that. And did you see what the taller one did as we approached?”

Patricks frowns at him. He goes quiet for a long moment and stares into Max’s eyes. “You noticed that?”

“Fucking hell, of course I noticed it. I was about to jump on Delia and cover her.”

Patricks grunts. “Good.”

“Uh, guys? What are you talking about?”

Max glances at me. “The tall one was reaching for a gun.”

I blink at them. “There’s no way you can know that for sure.”

Patricks and Max share a look. “Trust me,” Patricks says. “He was reaching for a gun.”

“Guests don’t carry guns, let alone reach for them,” Max says. “They were up to something.”

“So what was your plan?” Patricks says, getting annoyed again. “You were going to kick them in the ass until they told you what they were doing?”

“I was going to knock one down and grab him,” Max says.

“Funny way of going about that.”

“I almost had him.” Max looks annoyed. “And where were you?”

“Running to catch up.” Patricks throws his hands in the air. “Fuck, this is worthless. Look, I’ll see if the cameras got their plates. We’ll go from there, all right?”

“Fine,” Max says, nodding. “And if you’ve got contacts in the local PD, maybe throw their description on over. Tell them to keep an eye out.”

“Good thinking. The first good suggestion you’ve had all day.” Patricks storms back to his cart, gets in, and drives off.

We sit there for a long moment before Max drives the cart back in through the gate. It slides shut behind us.

“Were those the guys?” I ask him, my lips near his ear.

He looks at me, head cocked. “I think so.”

“But you’re not sure.”

“I didn’t recognize them, no. But it’s been a little while, and I never knew all the enforcers.”

“But why would they be here?”

“They probably know I work here,” he says, glancing away. “Probably looking for you.”

I chew on my lip. “That’s… that’s not great.”

“No, it isn’t.” He looks at me again. “I should leave. I should lead them away.”

I put my hand on his leg. “No,” I say, gripping him hard.

He puts his hand on top of mine and squeezes. “I won’t leave you, Delia. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“Good. Don’t go. I just…” I trail off, not sure how to put it.

“I get it.” He leans close, lips near mine. “You want me. Can’t stop thinking about how I can make you feel.” His other hand comes up and slips through my hair, grabbing it tight. He pulls my chin back and I gasp as he kisses my neck. “And truth is, sweet Delia, you’re all mine.”

“Yes,” I whisper.

I let him kiss me like that until he lets me go and starts the cart back up.

“Better head up,” he says. “Otherwise that fucking dick Patricks is going to come back and start yelling again.”

I smile a little, heart racing hard. I’m dripping wet and wish he’d drag me off into the trees and take me, right here and now, but I know he can’t. “Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go back.”

We drive off, back toward the house.10MaxThere’s no question that the men back at the manor were mafia.

I know the look. It’s all in their posture and their clothes. Mafia enforcers like to dress in plain shirts and slacks, nothing special, but they can’t help themselves when it comes to the little things. For example, the guy that reached for his gun, he was wearing a Rolex. I caught a glimpse of it as I drove past him. And the other guy, he had on nice alligator leather shoes and a thick gold chain around his neck that came flying out of his shirt when he started to run.

They were mafia, no doubt. I don’t like that they already know I work for the Lofthouse family, but there’s not much else I can do.

A few days pass without much happening. I install more security around the cabin and start leaving a loaded shotgun and a loaded rifle in the closet along with a loaded pistol under the pillow next to mine.