Page 25 of Mountain Man Santa

Fifteen

JERRY

Inurse a shot of bourbon in the still of the night, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. It’s chilly at three in the morning, apart from the crackling of the fire I built back up a few moments ago. Outside, the blizzard’s winds have died down to a subtle whistle, intensifying the knot in my stomach.

Three days have passed. Every item on the naughty list on Stacey’s back has been crossed off, and if I had to rewrite the list for every time we did everything on it? Well, there’d be plenty of oral and sixty-nines, blow jobs, and every mind-blowing position imaginable. A smile curls up my lips at the thought of all the filthy pleasures we’ve fit in over the past seventy-two hours.

But the list would bottom out on the same item, written over and over again until it reaches the bottom of Stacey’s ass: “Make love.”

Besides the kind of lovemaking that makes me feel like I somehow carry a piece of her soul with me now, the last few days have held some of the best conversations in my life. I’ve learned so many amazing, beautiful things about Shortie.

I know all about her brothers and parents, her high school blunders, and playing softball. We discussed her plans to open a catering business, identifying the next steps, milestones, andgoals. And she told me about her favorite date ideas, dream elopement, the kind of marriage she longs for, and the fact she wants a minimum of three children.

Once I got her to agree that they didn’t all need to show up at once like Cricket and Christian’s babies, I got on board. By the time we finished picking names and dreaming up their personalities, appearances, and futures, we had more like six. Totally my fault as I couldn’t make up my mind about names.

From her favorite singer, Luke Combs, to her favorite ice cream flavor, French vanilla, I’m obsessed with knowing everything about her. So much delicious intimacy confirms my desperate need and love for her, felt in every cell of my body deep down into the marrow of my bones.

When I shared with her in return, she listened attentively, asking questions where needed and making me feel valued, appreciated, and adored. Her face never filled with judgment or criticism. Instead, her expression, thoughtful words, and thorough listening made me feel completely safe and accepted. I didn’t know this kind of love existed.

I shut my eyes, closer to tears than I’ve been in years. Like since prison. How can I ever let this intense intimacy go? Stacey’s done something to me over the past few days. She’s broken me somehow. Made me feel incomplete and fucked up without her.

Without her…

Two words have never sickened my heart more. Even now, sitting in flannel pajama bottoms, enjoying the tranquility of early morning, I feel lonely…hollow. A part of me begs to go back to bed with her, savoring the sound of her slow, soft breathing and the way her hot body drapes over me lazily in sleep.

I rest my bent left leg over my right knee, pulling up the fabric and rereading her words. “I love you, and you love me. I trust you, and you trust me. I give myself to you, and you giveyourself to me. I live for you, and you live for me.” So fucking simple and everything I’ve ever wanted from another human being.

But I’m no good for her. Opening my texts again, I flip open the latest message from my brother, Szymon. He’ll land in Sacramento a few hours from now, and he wants to see me to discuss the family business. If I refuse to meet him, there will be hell to pay. And the hell won’t start with me.

Instead, he’ll come after what I love most—Stacey. Which is what makes my plan so desperate and painful. It’s too early to make this phone call, but I have to, no matter the consequences. I hold Mark’s card in my hand, flipping it over. Of her three brothers, he’s the bounty hunter. Based on what I know about Szymon and what I researched online, a bounty hunter’s my best hope.

He answers on the third ring, his voice clear and solid, like he’s never gone to bed. Considering his line of work, I’d wager that’s the case.

“Hey, this is Chef Jerry, your sister’s boss at the Silver Fork.”

“Is Stacey okay? What’s going on?”

“Yeah, your sister’s fine. But I need your help to make sure it stays that way.”

“What the fuck?” he asks testily.

“I’m gonna text you a couple of documents to take a look at.”

“Okay…”

I put the phone on speaker, going back into my files before sending him my brother’s rap sheet and current warrants for his arrest.

“I can only do so much research on my end, but I imagine he’s worth a small fortune in bounties…”

I wait, listening to Mark type for a few minutes before he whistles, saying, “This looks like my kind of mark.”

“I was counting on you to say that. He’s flying into Sacramento today and wants to see me. No doubt using one of his many aliases. I’m not sure when or where he wants to rendezvous. And honestly, he’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the Greenpoint Crew. Despite my father’s incarceration, there’s a resurgence happening within the group, and they won’t let me off the hook until I’m up to my neck in their shit again. That’s where you and your services come into play…and maybe help from your brothers, too.”

“I’m leaving now. Does Stacey know about any of this, and is she safe?”

“She will be safe, I promise you, and no, she doesn’t know about any of it.”

He pauses for a long moment. “You’ve got to break off whatever is happening between you two for good. Before she gets hurt or worse.”

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