Billionaire Lumberjack’s Bargain (Lumberjacks in Love #5)

Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

DALTON

T he tiny scrap of paper easily fits in the palm of my hand, and the few hand-scrawled letters written on it might seem completely innocuous to anyone who doesn’t know what they mean.

A shitstorm is coming—all because of this minuscule piece of stationary.

Despite its diminutive size, it feels like a massive, heavy weight in my hand, a burden I now have to carry to protect this mountain and the people on it.

I stare at it in the firelight where I sit in Pops’ old leather chair, as if examining it longer might somehow change what’s on it or what it means for all of us.

With Pops, Camille, and Davey long since headed to bed, all I’m left with are my thoughts—and they aren’t good ones.

Any efforts to try to keep the welling panic at bay have failed.

I can’t help but feel like something is coming—something we won’t be able to win against.

Even what happened with Camille in the barn this afternoon hasn’t been enough to quell the tide of rising anxiety over what we could be facing.

She did her best to help ease my fears. Her strength should have bolstered mine, but all it did was make me realize that, if push comes to shove, she will be the first one to step into the line of danger to protect us .

And the thought of that happening has only made things worse in my head as darkness has descended both inside and out.

I take a sip of my beer and set the glass on the small table beside the chair, then return to analyzing the piece of paper that has changed everything.

How can Pops even sleep right now?

I’m too amped up, too worried about what might come through that door to ever be able to close my eyes, let alone let myself drift off. Not even having Camille in my bed will be enough to allow that tonight.

The stairs creak behind me, and I turn my head back, expecting to find Pops coming down for something or even Camille checking on why I haven’t come to bed. But a different set of sleepy blue eyes stares back at me from the base of the staircase.

Teddy bear clutched in one hand, his blanket in the other, Davey blinks slowly, like he’s trying to decide if he wants to be awake or go back to dreamland.

“What are you doing down here, buddy? You should be asleep.”

He shrugs slightly, hugging his stuffy closer. “Can’t sleep.”

No shit, kid.

I feel you on that.

Probably because he feels the energy and tension that has permeated the air all day, even though we’ve all tried to keep things light with him and have avoided discussing anything that might upset the almost-five-year-old.

I motion for him to come over and set the scrap of paper on the table beside my glass. “Come here.”

He pads across the wood floors on bare feet, then climbs up into my lap and settles there, snuggling close and pressing his cheek directly over my heart.

I wrap my arms around him, his tiny weight so much more welcome than the one I just had in my palm. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He shakes his head. “No. Where’s Mama?”

“Mama’s sleeping.” I run my hand up and down his back softly, trying to get him to calm enough to go back to bed. “She is very tired. We should let her sleep.”

He nods, shifting to get a better grip on his blanket.

I can’t imagine how exhausted she must be.

Not only from the physical toll her pregnancy is taking on her but also the emotional one of everything that’s been going on, of all the changes that have been happening and the revelations that are starting to paint a very dark picture.

All I can do is hope she’s as prepared to face it as she seems and that this little boy doesn’t suffer from the fallout.

I squeeze Davey tightly and press a kiss to the top of his head. “Are you scared about something?”

He shakes his head, snuggling even closer, like this is the only place in the world he wants to be in this moment.

And despite all the uncertainty swirling around us and permeating the air, it does feel pretty damn good to have him in my arms.

Right.

I don’t want him to ever have to worry about anything. Just like Pops did for me as a child, I want Davey to always feel secure and loved, even when things get hard.

Like now.

“You know I’ll always protect you and your mom, right?”

He nods and pulls his head back, looking up at me with sleepy eyes and little furrowed brows. “Are you my new daddy?”

Fuck…

I swallow through the emotion lodged in my throat.

How the hell do I answer that?

It isn’t a simple one.

What I might want, how I might feel , doesn’t mean it’s necessarily what Camille or Davey needs. And we haven’t discussed any of this.

Not really.

Not beyond the promises we made to each other in the barn earlier today.

But I know what I want my future to hold with her and this little boy—and that baby who will enter the world so soon.

“I would never try to take the place of your daddy.” My voice breaks on the final word, picturing the man who should be here with them and everything he’s missing. “He loved you and your mom very much, but I do, too. And I’ll always be there for you guys, no matter what.”

I hope that’s a good enough answer.

One that doesn’t further confuse the little boy who has had so many life changes in the last six months.

He offers me a soft smile and nods, then returns to resting his cheek against my chest.

The fact that he’s so trusting, that he feels comfortable enough with me to do this makes old memories and long-suppressed feelings bubble to the surface.

It’s hard to think that twenty years have passed since I lost them. Sometimes it feels like yesterday, and often, it feels more like a distant dream I have trouble clinging to.

I wrap my arms fully around him and lower my cheek to his thick mop of dark hair. “You know, I used to sit like this with my dad in front of the fire.”

“Where is he?”

Long gone…

Some days, it’s hard for me to even remember his face, and I have to seek out the old photo albums we keep on a shelf in Pops’ office to remind myself what he and Mom looked like. So I can convince myself I haven’t fully forgotten them.

“He died when I was about the same age you are.”

Davey pulls back and looks up at me again.

“Pops raised me. He’s my grandfather, but he’s also like my father in a way because he taught me everything I know.”

“Like you’re teaching me?”

Oh, God.

That heavy emotion I can’t quite place thickens my throat again.

Honored that I’ve been put in this position with him?

Terrified I don’t deserve it and am going to fuck it up?

Guilty that it should be Dave?

“I’ll teach you everything I know, buddy. You’re such a big help and a good learner.”

“Are we going to stay here on the mountain”—he looks around the room he and Camille have spent so much time in—“at your house?”

Hell, I haven’t had a chance to give that any thought yet, either.

I brought them down here where we’d all be together, where they’d be safer with Pops and me around until things get sorted out. But I’ve just spent months fixing up the property that’s always been his home and has been Camille’s for even longer so that they could stay.

This might be my home, but that’s theirs .

Where Camille built a life for him with Dave and created all those memories I don’t want Davey to forget.

I don’t know if I could ever take him away from that.

Squeezing him gently, I shake my head. “I don’t know, bud. We’ll figure that out.”

He seems to accept my vague answer easily and lowers his head again as his lids start to droop.

A little sigh of contentment falls from his parted lips, and he snuggles deep, bringing his blanket up to almost cover his face.

The fire distorts before my eyes as tears fill them.

How the hell do I fix any of this?

I’ve always been good with my hands. More than capable of repairing just about anything on the property that might need it. But this goes so far beyond my capabilities.

Maybe Pops was right in keeping me in the dark about what was happening with Gallo and the other threats that have been made to the mountain over the years.

For a long time, it kept me blissfully unaware that there was anything to worry about beyond the chores on the homestead.

Or maybe not.

If he had told me, I could have been better prepared for this or anything else that might get thrown at us.

It’s na?ve to think this mountain will remain untouched forever. After two hundred and fifty years, something was bound to try to taint the sanctity of our safe haven.

But even Pops couldn’t have known it would come to this .

I glance over at the paper again, and that same anger that burned through me after I found it reignites. Only the soft weight of Davy against my chest keeps it from exploding.

Just like his mother did earlier, having him in my arms soothes the fiery fury and allows me to drop my head back against the leather chair and let my eyes close.

Tomorrow will be filled with problems and questions and things I don’t even want to have to face, but for tonight, I’m going to try to let it go long enough to relish this moment.

Knowing Davey feels safe enough with me to fall asleep like this. That Camille trusts me enough to allow herself to open up to me the way she has in the last few days.

Rather than wondering what’s coming when the sun rises, I’m going to be thankful for what I have today and pray to God that it won’t be taken away.

* * *

CAMILLE

Bright morning sunlight pours through the window of Dalton’s bedroom, and I blink awake slowly, trying to let my eyes adjust to it. I shift and struggle to find a more comfortable position, which is almost impossible at this point during my pregnancy.

It was the same way with Davey.

By this far along, my body was ready to be done with all this, and it’s the same this morning. Yet, given how light it already is, I somehow managed to sleep in far later than I normally do.

I push myself up on one elbow and glance to the side of the bed where Dalton should have slept last night, but his pillow looks unused, the sheets cold.

Not that they’d still be warm if the sun’s this far up.

He’s usually out on the property long before dawn, taking care of his livestock and anything else that needs to happen before he goes to work on our place.

Chances are good that he’s out in the barn with Apollo.

A smile pulls up my lips as I think about yesterday and that small room I will never be able to set foot into again without my body and cheeks heating.

Every look he gave me after. Each fleeting touch or brush of his hand sparked that light deep inside me that I thought would never glow again.

It warms me even now, and I dread having to move.

But the world beyond this bed won’t wait.

I toss back the covers and carefully climb from the mattress, snagging a hair tie from the nightstand. My fingers catch in tangles as I pull my hair up into a bun and pad toward the door.

Tugging it open, I still and listen, but the house is silent even at this late hour.

I nudge open the cracked door to Dalton’s old room where we put Davey to sleep last night, but the bed is empty, the sheets pushed aside haphazardly. For the briefest second, a knot of worry forms in my stomach, but the door to Pops’ room also stands open, so even if Dalton is out on the property, Davey isn’t alone.

One of them may even have taken Davey back to our place to check on the livestock—Rocky especially, since the best part of my little man’s day is getting to see his best friend.

Making my way down the stairs, a slight chill rolls over me as the cooler air raises goosebumps on my skin.

The flames typically roaring in the fireplace have dwindled down to only embers, explaining why the usual warmth of the room has dissipated. Given the way the temperatures have been dropping, it feels like an early snow may be coming sooner than we anticipated.

I shiver as the living room fully comes into view, and my heart stops.

Dalton sits in Pops’ leather chair, head tilted back to the side, sound asleep with Davey in his arms, curled tightly against him.

I don’t bother trying to fight the tears that well at the image.

They’re so peaceful.

Content.

Comfortable.

And it looks so right.

I press my hand over my mouth to keep myself from releasing a sob that might wake them. Old wood creaks to my left, and I rip my gaze from them to find Pops coming out of his office.

He presses a finger over his lips to tell me to be quiet and moves over to the bottom of the staircase near me. “I didn’t want to wake them.”

I clear my throat and swipe at my eyes. “No. Don’t. They both need as much sleep as they can get right now.”

Pops offers me a sympathetic look and places his weathered hand over mine on my stomach. “So do you. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but…” I give him a slight shrug.

He nods his understanding without me having to offer any further explanation.

Even if I didn’t feel as big as Winny before she gave birth to Rocky, the events of the past few days would exhaust anyone—as is clearly evidenced by the fact that Dalton didn’t even make it up to bed last night.

I start to move off the steps, but the sound of a heavy-duty engine and tires crunching over gravel whips my head toward the front of the cabin.

Pops scowls. “Who the hell could that be?”

Dalton twitches in the chair, starting to wake. He slowly lifts his head and turns it to peer back at us with half-lidded, still sleepy eyes.

Lumbering toward the door, Pops glances his way. “Someone’s here.”

The shift in Dalton’s gaze is instant.

His eyes clear the last remnants of sleep as he climbs to his feet with Davey clutched to his chest protectively. He turns toward me and moves quickly to the staircase. “I’m going to put him back in his room.” His focus darts to his grandfather, whose hand rests on the knob. “Pops, wait for me before you go out.”

Pops gives a sharp nod, and Dalton rushes up the stairs, taking them two at a time easily, even with Davey in his hold.

I grip the banister so tightly my knuckles whiten. “Who is it?”

Shifting to the side of the door, Pops glances out the window, and his shoulders immediately tense. “The sheriff…”

Dalton returns before I can ask him anything, moving down the steps as quickly as he ascended them. He pauses on the bottom one next to me and kisses my cheek, pressing a warm, reassuring hand to my lower back. “It’ll be okay.”

Without him even saying it, I can already tell he’s going to order me to stay in the house.

I wrap my hand around his wrist. “I’m going out there with you.”

His nostrils flare, his normally soft green eyes hardening like emeralds. “Like hell you are…”

“Dalton, I need to know what’s going on.”

He presses his hand on my back tighter. “You need to stay in here .”

I slide my hand from his wrist to twine my fingers with his, squeezing. “We’re a team, right?”

His shoulders sag slightly, as if my question physically hurt him. “Of course, we are.”

“Then let me back you up.”

He releases a sigh, then gives me a sharp nod and gently tugs me down the final step toward the front door. Pops grasps the knob and turns it. Chilly air blows in as he pulls it open, and we step out onto the porch and into the bright morning sunlight that so vastly contradicts the dark foreboding settling over me.

Sheriff Wilson is already halfway up the steps. He recoils slightly, almost like he didn’t expect us. “Oh, you are here. I figured you were in the barn or out on the property and was going to come look for you after I knocked.”

Pops forces a smile, but I can see how tight it is, how filled with unease and mistrust. “If you’re here, it must be bad news. You could have just radioed.”

The sheriff pulls off his cowboy hat and rubs at the thinning, gray-streaked hair near his temple. “You’re right. It isn’t good.”

Dalton tightens his hand around mine. “You found something?”

He nods, leaning an arm on the banister behind him. “Did some digging after you radioed about the people being at the lake. Had to call all the way to Saranac Lake to find a company that rented two ATVs.”

Pops raises a white brow. “And…”

I hold my breath, waiting to see who is behind this, and Dalton’s entire body goes completely rigid.

This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. After literal months of trying to get answers—from Pops and elsewhere—we might actually finally find out who we are fighting.

“Well”—Wilson rubs a hand across his jaw—“it’s a name you’ll be familiar with.”

Dalton’s hand tightens around mine, and he subtly tugs me closer. “That scumbag lawyer Gallo?”

He nods. “Yes, but I made some phone calls to some friends in the city, people who might know him or at least of him, and now, I’ve got more information on that fucker.”

I glance at Pops, waiting for him to ask the ultimate question, but he just casually leans against the porch railing, like all of this is boring to him. “Who does he work for?”

Sheriff Wilson’s jaw hardens, his already dark eyes turning steely. “You aren’t going to like the answer.”

Dalton scowls. “We need it, anyway.”

“It isn’t just some big-shot investors like you thought. It’s one . And he’s not just connected. He’s one of the pariahs at the top of the food chain where the New York mob is concerned.”

“Shit.” Dalton wraps an arm around my waist protectively and glances away, his jaw tightening.

“These are dangerous people, far more than you thought. These aren’t the type of men who take no for an answer. If they want this land”—he follows Dalton’s gaze out toward the barn and beyond—“they’re going to take it any way they have to.”

The ominous warning makes the strange dream come barreling back, and my legs start to give out slightly, but Dalton’s strong arm keeps me steady.

He feathers his lips across my temple and holds them there for a moment, until I can regain my strength by taking his.

Pops pushes off the banister. “I have no doubt they’re dangerous people. The kind who use everything at their disposal, every means.”

The sheriff nods, putting his hat back in place. “Exactly.”

Only months ago, Pops was unsteady on his feet, confused, unable to hold a basic conversation without having to search his foggy mind for memories that should have been at the tips of his fingers.

But the man who puffs out his chest and steps closer to Sheriff Wilson isn’t that version of him.

Strong, broad shoulders form an immovable force between the person who is supposed to protect James Creek and the mountain and us. “And what did they promise you to secure your help?”

Sheriff Wilson stiffens, his eyes darting between all three of us. “What do you mean?”

Dalton releases me, then slips his hand into his back pocket and steps forward, holding out the scrap of paper he found yesterday. “Want to explain how this ended up in the clearing halfway down the mountain that whoever was up here at the lake was using as a base of operations?”

Wilson glances down at it, squinting like he’s having trouble reading it. “I can’t tell what it is.”

“Bullshit.” Dalton says the word calmly— too calmly. The rage building inside him mirrors how he acted yesterday when he realized what that piece of paper meant. “That is your handwriting. You’ve always done that strange swirl at the end of your A s and crossed your sevens. I knew you had written it the moment I laid eyes on it.”

I did, too.

All the paperwork Sheriff Wilson has to fill out when Dave died still sits in a drawer back at the cabin, but I’ve looked it over so many times that I would have recognized the distinct features of his writing anywhere.

Pops glowers at him, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “What was it? Directions up here? Times that we were least likely to be at the lake? A map to get them through the woods without being detected?”

Dalton steps around his grandfather and into Sheriff Wilson’s space, stopping only inches from his chest. “What the fuck did they promise you for your help?”

Whatever it was must have been big for this man to betray the people who rely on him so much. Who trusted him to always look out for the interests of the residents of this mountain and the town below it.

Pops shifts to the left, putting himself behind the traitor so he can’t retreat.

Sheriff Wilson’s eyes soften, and his shoulders slump in defeat. “I didn’t want to do it.”

Fuck.

That’s all the confirmation we need.

He glances between Dalton and Pops. “But the kind of money they’re offering, that they’d be bringing in here—”

Dalton grabs the front of his uniform, fisting the crisp deep-blue fabric. “You fucking sell out! You’ve lived in James Creek your whole life. Your whole family has, and you’re willing to let this mountain, this land, be destroyed to put dollar signs in your bank account?” He seethes, his face so close to the bastard that he can probably smell his fury. “Fuck you!”

Pops nods. “My sentiments exactly.”

Wilson tries to stagger back a step, but Dalton’s hold and Pops block him. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. They were going to come no matter what—”

Dalton regains the space between them, using his size to intimidate the smaller man. “So, you just thought you would take advantage of it?”

“Better me than somebody who doesn’t care and isn’t trying to protect you.” He glances toward me. “All of you.”

“Did they…”—my stomach drops, my legs starting to shake again as I wrap my arms around myself—“did they have anything to do with Dave’s death?”

The sheriff recoils slightly, his eyes widening. “I don’t…”—he shakes his head—“I don’t think so, but shit, I guess I don’t know.”

Dalton peers over his shoulder at me, then releases his grip on the sheriff and comes to my side to wrap his arms around me again and hold me steady. “If I find out they did and that you knew about it or had any role in it, you’re going to answer to me. As it stands, you’re already at the top of my shit list.”

The menacing tone he uses should frighten me.

Especially when it’s so out of character for him.

But the situation definitely warrants it.

“I’m sorry, guys.” Wilson blubbers. “Really, truly I am. But you can’t fight this. It’s going to happen one way or another. They’re too powerful. They know too many people in far higher places than James Mountain. They’re going to get this land and use it for whatever the hell it is they want it for.” He sweeps out his hand absently. “I suggest you start making plans for when they do.”

With that warning, he angles himself to slip between Pops and the railing and hustles back to his department truck.

We all watch him drive away, but no one says anything.

We’re all too stunned.

This is all about money .

Greed.

They weren’t even blackmailing him in a way that would have posed a threat we might have been able to understand.

He just wanted the cold, hard cash they offered.

And his assurance that they didn’t have anything to do with Dave’s death wasn’t really one at all.