Big Mountain Daddy

by B. B. Hamel

  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.

&n
bsp; 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 until 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.

  Not long later, she emerges from the dark, smoky interior. “Yep, like I said. She’s at Smokey’s House.”

  I glance at Wyatt and he gives her a smile. “Thanks so much, ma’am.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She slams the door in our faces.

  We get back in the car and Wyatt puts Smokey’s House into his GPS. It’s not too far away, maybe a fifteen-minute drive. On the way there, we talk idly about the case, mostly speculation, but I have to admit, it feels good.

  I like just talking to him, like everything’s normal, and not totally fucked up beyond belief.

  Smokey’s House is a casino in the next town over. It’s a big concrete building with lots of parking. The outside looks drab, but as soon as we get in the door, it’s exactly what you imagine a casino would be, all flashing lights and screaming machines.

  The place is surprisingly packed. “How are we gonna find her here?” I ask Wyatt.

  “I have my tricks.” He pulls up a picture of Kristi on his phone. “Got this from her Facebook.”

  I watch as he approaches a waitress. He flashes his badge, and soon we’re in a back room with a manager, a portly older guy who’s balding on top.

  It doesn’t take long for the guy to find Kristi. Apparently, casinos have a million cameras all over the place, and they’re constantly watching people. They have some seriously intense facial recognition software boiled in, although he doesn’t need to use it. Since we have her name, he can just look up the room she booked.

  And ten minutes later, we’re in the elevator. “Told you I could find her,” he says.

  I roll my eyes. “All you had to do was flash your badge.”

  “Pretty much. Casinos get a lot of bad apples, so they’re used to having cops moving through here.”

  “They always cooperate?” I ask.

  He nods. “Always. They want as little trouble as humanly possible.”

  “Lucky for us.”

  He laughs as the elevator stops. We step off and head down a few hallways before finally stopping outside of a door.

  Wyatt knocks a few times. A voice from inside shouts something incomprehensible, so Wyatt knocks some more.

  Eventually, the door creaks open. Kristi’s standing there, bleary-eyed, the room behind her pitch dark. She does a double-take when she realizes who’s standing there in front of her.

  Wyatt doesn’t give her a chance to do anything. He steps forward, charging right into the room.

  “Hey!” Kristi says.

  I follow Wyatt in there, giving her an apologetic look that dies on my face when I see the state of the room.

  It’s a mess. The covers are piled up in a corner, there’s trash on the mattress, and Wyatt’s holding a syringe. There’s more gear next to it, and clearly she’s been holed up in here, probably since the last time we saw her, doing drugs. It hasn’t even been that long, but the place smells like body odor and decay.

  “Get off that, asshole,” Kristi snaps, walking up to Wyatt.

  He smirks at her. “You know I’m a cop, right?”

  She shrinks back. “Come on, man. It’s just, I need it, okay?”

  She’s jittery, fidgeting, eyes wide. She’s clearly still high. I look at Wyatt and he sighs.

  “How fucked up are you?” he asks her.

  “I’m fine,” she snaps. “Fucking fine, okay? Fine, I know what I’m doing.”

  “I bet you do.” He sighs and puts the syringe into the leather case with the rest of her gear. He grabs a plastic bag from the floor and throws the gear in there.

  “Hey!” Kristi says. “What the fuck?”

  Wyatt stares her down and she shrinks away. “You’re coming with us,” he says.

  “What, are you fucking arresting me?” she asks defiantly.

  He shakes his head. “Unfortunately for you, no, we’re not.”

  I give him a look but he ignores me. He takes her arm and pulls her toward the door.

  “Hey, man, what the fuck! Get off!”

  Wyatt looks back at me. “Grab her stuff, or whatever she’ll need. Meet me downstairs in the lobby.”

  With that, he drags her out into the hallway, and they disappear. I stand there, totally confused about what’s happening, but I do as he asked. I pick through the rat’s nest that is her room and find a duffel bag with clothes, some makeup
and toiletries in the bathroom, and a bunch of used condoms in the trash. Frowning, I head back out into the hallway and go downstairs.

  I find Kristi and Wyatt standing in front of the main desk. Kristi looks chastised, but at least she’s not yelling. Wyatt has a big old smile on his face and turns to me as I approach.

  “How do you fancy a little stay in this here lovely establishment?” he asks me.

  I stare at him. “Are you joking?”

  He shakes his head, grinning. “And you have a roommate.”

  I look over at Kristi and she doesn’t meet my gaze. I look back at Wyatt, mouth hanging open. I’m about to tell him no fucking way, but the clerk is already back and giving him three white room keys.

  “What the hell’s going on?” I ask Wyatt as he herds Kristi back over to the elevator. We shove in with a couple of fat tourists, and he just gives me a look. We ride up a couple floors in silence before we step out.

  “You’re staying with this lovely girl here,” Wyatt says to me. “You’re going to watch her, make sure she gets sober, and then we’ll have a chat with her.”

  Kristi glowers at me. “Bitch,” she says.

  I ignore that. “No way,” I say to him.

  “I got separate beds, don’t worry,” he says, still grinning. “I’m in the room next door.”

  “This is crazy. I can’t do that. She’s a stranger and a junkie.”

  “Bitch,” Kristi grumbles again.

  “Look, I know this sucks,” Wyatt says softly. “But she’s too fucked up right now to be of any use. Just one night, let her come down, and then we’ll get what we need from her in the morning. Okay?”

  “I want my drugs,” Kristi says.

  I glance at her and back to Wyatt. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He grins at me. “Come on, let’s go see your room.”

  I want to argue, but he’s already walking away, dragging Kristi by the arm.

  The room is half a hallway down. Wyatt hustles Kristi in there and I follow, gloomily carrying her duffel bag. I toss it onto one of the two beds and Kristi runs into the bathroom, but before she can lock herself in there, Wyatt follows.