Page 50 of Daddy Enforcer
Billie emerges, dressed in jeans, a thick sweater, and his wooly hat, his face pale but determined.
“I’m ready, Daddy,” he says, his voice steadier now, though I can see the fear in his eyes. He’s clutching Felix, and I give him a quick nod, proud of his grit.
“Good boy,” I say, guiding him outside. “Stay close, follow my lead, just like on the race. We’re heading to town, quick and quiet.”
We mount the skis, him on the smaller one he’s mastered, me on the larger one.
The engines roar to life, and we take off, the snow crunching under us as we speed down the mountain path.
I keep my eyes sharp, scanning the trees for any movement, my hand hovering near the Glock in my jacket. I’d rather avoid gunfire, but the truth is that I’ll have absolutely no problem firing off a round if that’s what it takes. This is the real deal.
Billie stays close, his ski humming beside mine, and I’m impressed again by his skill, his focus, even with fear written all over him. He’s got that edge, that fire, and it’s why he’s not just surviving this—he’sthriving.
We’re a good half-mile from the cabin, the snow-skis humming as we tear through the forest, the town’s edge not far now. Billie’s keeping pace, his focus razor-sharp, his wooly hat bouncing as he leans into the curves like a pro.
The cold bites at my face, but my blood’s pumping, my senses on high alert, scanning the trees for any sign of anything suspicious.
My gut’s still screaming that we’re on borrowed time, and every second we’re out here feels like a gamble. Then my phonebuzzes in my jacket, sharp and insistent, the vibration cutting through the ski’s rumble.
A sensor alert from the cabin—motion detected, perimeter breach.
My heart slams against my ribs, and I signal Billie to stop, my hand slicing through the air.
“Cut the engine!” I bark, pulling my ski to a halt, the snow crunching under me.
Billie follows suit, his ski skidding to a stop beside mine, his eyes wide but steady as he kills the engine.
The forest goes silent, save for the faint whistle of wind through the pines, and I yank my phone out, pulling up the security feed.
The cabin’s sensors are linked to my device, a tech setup I activated the first day, and what I see on the screen makes my blood run cold.
Three men, masked, moving low and fast toward the cabin, each gripping a semi-automatic rifle, their movements coordinated, professional.
Varkov enforcers, no doubt, tied to Trent’s dirty dealings. They’re creeping up the porch, one checking the windows, another signaling to cover the door.
We got out just in time.
Billie leans in, his breath catching as he sees the feed.
“Oh my gosh,” Billie gasps, his voice a whisper, but he doesn’t panic, his grip on Felix tightening as he steadies himself. His cool-headedness hits me hard—he’s scared, I can see it in his eyes, but he’s holding it together, his grit shining through like itdid on the ski race and on many other occasions since this whole ordeal started.
“Good boy,” I say, my voice low but firm, my hand on his shoulder to ground him. “We’re okay. You’re doing great.”
I feel a surge of relief, like a weight lifting off my chest.
My instincts were right, just like that desert mission years ago when I moved my squad before the rockets hit. If we’d waited for Mr. G’s signal, we’d be trapped in that cabin, facing those guns. And three masked men with semi-automatics against just me… I’m always confident of my combat abilities, but those are some tough odds—especially when Billie’s safety needs to be factored in above anything else.
I’m damn glad I trusted my gut, and I’m even prouder of Billie for keeping his head.
“We’re abandoning the skis,” I say, my tone sharp, decisive. “We’ll hike the rest of the way to town. It’s not far, maybe a mile, and it’ll keep us off their radar. No engine noise, no tracks in the snow leading them to us. We’ll cover the skis in snow and branches. They’ll search the forest once they realize the cabin’s empty, but we’ll be long gone.” I lock eyes with him, making sure he’s with me. “They may have already heard us, or maybe not. It’s hard to say with the howling winds around these parts. But either way, we need to do what we can. You ready to keep being brave for me, Little One?”
Billie nods, his jaw set, his eyes fierce despite the fear.
“Ready, Daddy,” he says, his voice steady, and I’m struck again by his strength, that edge that sets him apart from the Littles I’ve known.
But Billie’s not just my Little—he’s a fighter, and I’m damn lucky he’s mine.
I dismount, helping him off his ski, and we push them into a thick cluster of pines, covering them with snow to hide the tracks.
