Chapter 1
COMMANDER DADDY SNEAK PEEK
Chapter One
Kayley
Let me be clear—I’m not a car person. I’m more of a “get in and pray she starts” kind of girl. So when the engine sputters for the third time in two miles, I shoot the dash my best death glare and mutter, “Don’t you dare.”
The car, being the drama queen she is, dares. She sputters. Jerks. And with one final gasp of defiance, the engine dies completely. Right in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snowbanks taller than I am and trees that look like they came straight out of a murder podcast.
Perfect. This is fine. Everything is totally fine.
Except it’s not. Not even close.
Because in the backseat, little Aidan—my sister’s baby, my everything now—is crying. His tiny face is flushed, his whimpers weak, and I swear he’s hotter than a marshmallow straight from a campfire. I press the back of my hand to his cheek.
“Still burning up,” I whisper, panic tightening my throat. “Hang in there, buddy.”
My sister, Sophie, would’ve known what to do. But Sophie’s gone, and all I have is a diaper bag, a teething ring shaped like a banana, and a prayer.
And snow. So much freaking snow.
I yank open the door and immediately regret it. A gust of icy wind punches me in the face like it holds a personal grudge. I grab the diaper bag, wrap Aidan in his blanket burrito-style, and climb out. The moment my boots hit the icy road, I’m slipping like Bambi on roller skates.
“Seriously?” I hiss, catching myself on the side mirror. “Cool. So cool. I always wanted to die in the opening scene of a survival movie.”
I scan the tree line, heart thudding. There’s a shape through the snow. Big. Blocky. Maybe a house? A bunker? A place for psychos to store their chainsaws?
“Let’s hope it’s not that last one.”
I stumble through the snow like a woman possessed, my boots disappearing with every step. I’m soaking wet. Shivering. My hair’s sticking to my lips. But there’s a light ahead—flickering from a window just past a tall metal fence and a huge wooden gate that looks like it belongs in Game of Thrones.
It’s a compound. Definitely a compound.
And at this point? I don’t care if it’s run by mountain lions or a bunch of shirtless cult leaders. I’m out of options.
I clutch Aidan tighter, shuffle up to the gate, and pound on it with the side of my fist. “Hello? Is anyone in there? I have a baby! I swear I’m not a threat!”
The wind answers by slapping me in the face with a fresh wave of snow.
“Cool, cool, cool,” I mumble through chattering teeth.
And then—just as I’m debating whether crying will help or just freeze my mascara into icicles—the gate swings open with a loud creeeeeak.
And holy lumberjack.
The man in the doorway is huge. Like, “makes my brain short-circuit” huge.
He’s got dark, tousled hair that looks like it was styled by a snowstorm, a thick beard that practically screams I chop firewood shirtless, and a body that makes me instantly regret every single choice that led to me not wearing lip gloss today.
He’s wearing a Henley that clings to his chest like it owes him rent, and a flannel jacket hangs open over his shoulders. His eyes—sharp and glacier-blue—land on me, then on the crying bundle in my arms.
“What the hell?” he mutters, already reaching for us.
“My car died. The baby has a fever. Please don’t be a serial killer.”
The mountain man blinks. “Name’s Gavin. I’m not a serial killer.”
“Okay, but like, that’s exactly what a serial killer would say.”
He lifts the gate open wider with one hand like it’s made of paper and ushers me inside. “Get in. Now.”
I don’t argue. I practically fall through the door, clinging to the baby like he’s a life raft.
The man kicks the gate shut behind us and leads me through the snow toward a massive log-cabin-style building.
Warm golden light pours from the windows.
I catch glimpses of men inside—tall shapes, movement, warmth.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“Haven 7.”
“Sounds cozy. Is it a rehab center for ex-assassins or something?”
He snorts. “Close enough.”
He pushes open the front door and warmth blasts me in the face. I might actually cry.
“Guys!” the man bellows.
Five heads turn. Five very attractive heads, attached to very attractive bodies. It's like someone cast a wilderness calendar and dumped the entire lineup in this living room. There's a fire crackling, flannel everywhere, and the air smells like cedar, leather, and testosterone.
“Oh,” I whisper. “I’ve died. This is heaven. Or a very specific TikTok fantasy.”
The man guiding me inside doesn’t even pause. “Eli, get the med kit. Boyd, clear the table. Rhett, grab dry blankets. Rafe, Chase—get hot water, now.”
The others move like a well-oiled team. Within seconds, I’m being ushered to the giant farmhouse table in the middle of the room. They peel off my wet coat, toss the diaper bag aside, and someone lifts Aidan from my arms with practiced gentleness.
“Don’t—he’s—” I panic, reaching for him.
Gavin puts a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. He’s safe. Eli’s a medic.”
I glance at the man examining Aidan now. He’s got kind eyes and a calm voice, already checking the baby’s pulse and skin tone.
“Fever’s high,” Eli says. “But not seizure level. Let’s get him stripped, cooled, and hydrated.”
I sway, relief and adrenaline mixing into a dizzy cocktail. “He—he’s not mine,” I mumble. “He’s my nephew. My sister—she died. Someone’s after him. I don’t even know who. Or why.”
“You’re safe now,” Gavin says. “We’ll handle it.”
“You say that like you do this kind of thing often.”
He looks down at me with those glacial eyes and says, “We do.”
And I believe him.
Because this man? He doesn’t just look like he could survive the apocalypse—he looks like he is the apocalypse. Calm. Capable. And hot enough to melt the snow right off my boots.
Rhett wraps me in a blanket while someone hands me a steaming mug of what smells like cider. I don’t even remember asking for it, but I clutch it like it’s holy.
“You’ve got blood on your jeans,” Rafe says gently, crouching beside me.
“Oh. Yeah. I fell earlier.” I motion toward Aidan. “I’m okay.”
Chase gives a low whistle. “Rough night.”
“Understatement of the year.”
Boyd, the silent giant, hands me a fresh pair of socks and disappears again like a ghost.
I sip the cider, watching as they work on Aidan. Eli’s got him down to a diaper, using a damp cloth to cool him. His cries are softer now, more tired than pained.
“Why would someone be chasing a baby?” I whisper.
Gavin’s eyes meet mine. “That’s what we’re going to find out.”
A pause stretches between us. He studies me like he’s trying to read all the secrets I haven’t said yet. The way his jaw ticks, the tension in his broad shoulders… it’s clear this man doesn’t take lightly to anyone being in danger. Especially not women holding feverish babies.
“I’m Kayley,” I say suddenly, awkwardly.
His mouth quirks. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too, under absolutely ideal circumstances.”
That earns me a low, quiet chuckle. “You’ve got jokes. That’s good.”
“Do you say that to all the nearly-hypothermic women you rescue?”
“Only the ones with banana-shaped teething toys in their purse.”
Touché.
I glance around. “What is this place, exactly?”
Gavin crosses his arms. “We’re a private security unit. We handle threats. Protect people who’ve fallen through the cracks.”
“So… like Navy SEALs with better lighting and lumberjack aesthetics?”
“Something like that.”
I nod slowly, then glance down at my cider. “Cool. So I accidentally stumbled into a Jason Bourne movie.”
Gavin’s lips twitch again. “You’re not far off.”
I let out a shaky laugh, more exhaustion than humor. “So, what now?”
“Now?” Gavin crouches beside me, placing a hand on my knee—a gesture so steady, so sure, it makes something twist in my chest. “Now you rest. Aidan’s stable. We’ll get him warm, fed, and watched. You’re safe here, Kayley. I promise.”
My throat tightens.
Sophie died two weeks ago. I haven’t felt safe since.
But here, in this mountain stronghold with six action heroes and a bearded protector who smells like pine and danger?
For the first time in days, I let myself believe I might make it.
Might survive this.
Might even…breathe again.
Even if the hottest man I’ve ever seen is staring at me like I’m a puzzle he doesn’t quite trust—but kind of wants to solve anyway.