Her Protective Lumberjack (Crave County: Lumberjacks Love Curves #5)

1. Chloe

1

CHLOE

My stomach churns with nerves as I give myself one last look in the mirror. I’ve spent all morning agonizing over what to wear, finally settling on a simple white blouse and corduroy pants. The giant pimple on my chin, which sprouted overnight just to spite me, still looks like an angry volcano beneath my concealer. But there’s nothing I can do about that now. It’s after seven, and if anything could be worse than a giant zit, it’s being late for my first day at work.

“You’re cutting it close, Coco.”

I catch sight of my dad in the mirror behind me, a slice of toast in his hand. He’s wearing his police uniform—blue shirt, silver badge, black gun on his hip—his brow furrowed as he looks at me.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, taking a deep breath. “How do I look? Professional?”

“Sure. You look great.” He tilts his head toward the front door. “Now move it, kiddo.”

I suck in a breath, nodding. “Okay. I’m going.”

My heart is beating like a jackhammer, and I try to mentally pull myself together.

It’s just a receptionist job. You’re not performing brain surgery.

When I graduated from art school in June, I immediately started looking for work. I was hoping to launch a career in graphic design, but the industry is competitive as heck, so when I came across the school receptionist job, I took it. Sure, I’d rather spend my time painting, but I just turned twenty-two, and I need to start adulting for real. My dad does so much for me. He busts his ass as a cop, keeping the streets of Phoenix safe. I want to do my part and contribute to our ever-growing list of bills, even if it means putting my dreams on hold.

Dad ruffles my hair, smiling encouragingly beneath his beard. “You got this. Knock ‘em dead, Coco.”

Despite the nausea squeezing my gut, I can’t help smiling at the familiar nickname. He’s been calling me Coco for as long as I can remember.

“Thanks, Dad.”

I follow him to the front door, which he opens. Then he stops in his tracks so suddenly that I almost walk into the back of him. A moment passes, but he still doesn’t move. He’s frozen, looking down at something on the doormat. I try to peer past him, but he’s a big guy, his body filling out the doorway.

“Dad?” I say, panic rising when I check the time on my phone. “I need to go, I’m going to be l?—”

I don’t get to finish my sentence. Dad reaches down to grab something off the mat and thrusts it roughly into his pocket. Then he pushes me back inside the house. The wild look in his eyes makes the words dry up in my throat as he slams the door closed. I’ve never seen him look scared before, and it triggers a deep, primal fear in me, something far more terrifying than being late for work.

“D-dad?” I ask, shaking as he practically carries me into the basement, his breathing shallow. He forces me to sit down on the couch and rests his hands on my shoulders, his expression so serious that it feels like a bucket of ice water crashing over me.

“Listen to me, Coco,” he says. “Stay here and don’t move, understand me?”

“What’s happening?”

His face falls, contorting like he’s in pain. “I’ll explain everything real soon. I promise. But right now, I need to make a very important call to an old friend.” He lets out a deep breath. “You just sit tight.”

My heart is in my throat as he gives me one last look and races up the basement steps. As he runs, a crumpled piece of paper flies out of his back pocket, tumbling down toward me. Dad doesn’t notice. He shuts the basement door, and a few moments later, I hear the muffled sound of his voice, frantic and hurried as he talks to someone on the phone. I can’t make out the words. The crumpled paper is still sitting at the foot of the stairs, and I ease myself off the couch as quietly as possible, my hand trembling slightly as I reach out to pick it up.

This must be what was on the doormat.

The thing that terrified my dad.

My mouth goes dry as I carefully flatten the paper, trying not to make a sound. I read the scrawl of black writing, and a spasm of fear twists inside my gut.

END THIS INVESTIGATION NOW

OR WE’LL END YOUR DAUGHTER’S LIFE

“Goddammit, you weren’t supposed to see that,” my dad mutters darkly, his hands clenching the steering wheel.

We’re on the highway. A few minutes after I read the note down in the basement, Dad came to get me, insisting we leave immediately. I threw a bunch of things into a suitcase, and now we’re barreling out of Phoenix. It wasn’t until we left the city limits that I mustered the courage to admit I saw the note.

“I couldn’t help it,” I say, wringing my hands. “It was just…there, at the bottom of the stairs. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Coco. None of this is your fault.” Dad clenches his jaw, eyes flicking obsessively toward his rear-view mirror. “But don’t worry, okay? I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

“Where?”

“Cherry Hollow. It’s a small town in Colorado. I have an old buddy from the military who lives out in the mountains. Trace Vaughn. Trust him with my life.”

I swallow hard, wondering how the heck this day turned so crazy. Right now, I should be sitting at a desk, meeting my new co-workers. Instead, I’m heading to Colorado to stay with a stranger and escape a death threat.

“Do you know who sent the note?” I ask, as my dad hangs a surprise left.

He grunts. “I have a pretty good idea. We’ve been chasing a guy called Will Mercer. Local crime boss running drug trafficking operations in Arizona and New Mexico. The guy’s a big fish, but we’re closing in on him. Been locking up more of his associates lately, disrupting his business. He must know we’re getting close. Thinks he can escape justice by threatening my kid.” He spits out the word ‘threatening’ like it’s poison, anger burning in his eyes. “I’ll get this asshole bang to rights, Chloe. Once you’re safe in Colorado, I’ll head straight back to Phoenix and get to work. We won’t stop until we nail the son-of-a-bitch.”

My stomach lurches at his words. “You mean you’re not staying with me?”

Dad shoots me an apologetic look. “I can’t, kiddo. Not while Mercer is still free. I need to make it safe for you to come home.”

With a nod, I turn away, looking out the window so he can’t see the tears burning in my eyes. More than anything, I wish I could turn the clock back to this morning, when my biggest worry was the pimple on my chin and what to wear for my first day at work. But I know I have to be brave for my dad’s sake. He’s never once let me down, and if he says he’s going to catch Will Mercer, I believe him.

It’s a twelve-hour drive from Phoenix to Trace’s home, but it takes us even longer. Dad keeps making detours, trying to ensure we’re not being tailed, and the sun is already setting when we pass the sign welcoming us to Colorado. By the time we reach Cherry Hollow, the surrounding mountains are little more than dark blue shadows.

“Nearly there,” he says as we’re swallowed up by a tangle of black trees, pushing deep into the heart of a wild forest. The closer we get, the heavier my heart grows. I hate the thought of staying out here with a stranger while Dad goes back to Phoenix alone. He could be in danger. Will Mercer might come after him. But I won’t let myself cry again.

After what feels like a million twists and turns, I finally spot a pinprick of warm orange light in the distance. As we approach, I realize it’s coming from the window of a large wooden cabin, barely visible through the gloom of the woods.

Dad cuts the engine, plunging us into silence. He wasn’t kidding: this Trace guy really does live in the middle of nowhere. I’ve never been anywhere this quiet before. The nearby hooting of an owl and the rustling of trees are the only things I hear as I clamber out of the truck, stretching my numb legs.

I see a flicker of movement from the cabin, and my pulse stutters. I’ve never been good at meeting new people. All I want to do is get back in the truck and head home with Dad, but he’s already striding toward the cabin with my luggage in hand, beckoning me to follow.

“Come on, Coco.”

I do as he says. We reach the front door, and Dad raises his fist to knock.

“How long do I need to stay here?” I ask quickly before his hand makes contact with the wood.

He sighs deeply. The light from the window illuminates his furrowed brow and the gray hairs that have recently started to pepper his beard. “I wish I knew, kiddo.” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “You need to stay here until I know you’ll be safe at home. And I’ll do everything I can to make that happen as soon as possible. I promise.”

I press my lips together and nod, trying to put on a brave face. “Okay, Dad.”

He bends down to kiss the top of my head, then knocks on the cabin door.