Page 16 of Road Trip With Her Daddy Protector

Midnight findsme ghosting through the treeline, moonlight silvering the rifle barrel. Fog pools in the hollows, soft as breath. Every crunch of gravel down on the switchback drifts up clear—a car crawling, engine laboring on the grade.

Right on schedule, Tyler. Follow the crumbs.

I hunker behind a fallen log, heartbeat steady, eyes on the thermal display. A lone figure appears—hot white against the cool forest, moving uphill with dogged purpose.

I chamber a round and wait.

Tonight, the hunter becomes the hunted, and I’ll finally give Lola the peace she deserves.

9

Lola

Something is different tonight.

Gus moves through the cabin like a storm contained—silent, coiled, and deliberate. He’s spoken maybe a dozen words since sunset, and each of them felt measured, weighed for unnecessary weight before he let it leave his tongue.

I dry the last dinner plate and stack it in the cupboard, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he checks the battery indicator on the generator, then the feed on the trail-cam tablet, then the deadbolt on the front door he’s already locked twice.

“Gus,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Are we safe?”

He pauses mid-stride, meeting my gaze across the kitchen. For a heartbeat his eyes soften—hazel under the low lamplight, the green flecks I love turning dark and deep. Then the soldier slides the curtain of calm back into place.

“Nothing’s getting past me,” he answers. Which is not what I asked, and we both know it.

I cross the floor until I’m close enough to smell cedar and gun oil on his shirt. My fingers curl into the hem. “Tell me the truth.”

He exhales, a slow press of air between clenched teeth. “Truth is I’d die before I let anyone hurt you.”

“That’s not the same as safe.”

His jaw flexes. “Safe enough for now.” A fingertip ghosts down my cheek, tender despite the tension vibrating through him. “But I need you in the panic room tonight, Lola.”

Cold slips beneath my skin. “He’s close.”

Gus doesn’t confirm, but his silence is confirmation enough. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Pack a small bag. Water, flashlight, jacket. Go now. I’ll lock you in and join you when it’s over.”

“When,” notif.My stomach flips. “I’m not hiding while?—”

A sharp rap explodes against the front door, three rapid knocks that rattle the hinges.

We both freeze.

Another knock—slow this time, taunting.

Gus’s eyes blaze. He grabs my wrist and pulls me behind the kitchen island, shoving a pistol into my palm. “Safety’s off. Aim, squeeze, breathe.” Then he’s gone, ghosting down the hall toward the living room, rifle raised.

My heartbeat slams in my ears.

“Gus?” I whisper. No answer.

The doorknob rattles, followed by a smooth, almost amused voice that slides under the door like smoke. “Lola, sweetheart… open up. You forgot to leave a forwarding address.”

Tyler.

My fingers tighten on the pistol. Last time I heard that voice it was hissing threats in my ear, promising he’d hunt me to the ends of the earth. He kept his promise.

A crash—wood splintering. The door gives. I choke back a scream.

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