8. Jack
Chapter 8
Jack
I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But with Holly nestled close, her warmth mingling with mine beneath the thick duvet, sleep overtook me. I wake as dawn creeps over the horizon, a faint glow filtering through the curtain. The night is giving way, but the darkness within me hasn’t let go.
Holly lies curled beside me, her breaths steady, her body wrapped around mine like it belongs there. For a moment, I watch her, taking in her peaceful face, softened by sleep, her chest rising and falling in a slow, comforting rhythm. It feels good. Right. Too right for a man like me, someone who’s crossed every moral line, each one blurring into the next until they all feel the same. She’s given me more than I thought possible—more than I deserve. And now, she has a claim on me I can’t ignore. The unbreakable bond we forged last night now burns out of control.
With a quiet exhale, I carefully slip out from under her, making my way down the hall to the bathroom. The silence is thick, only broken by the soft creak of the old cabin’s floorboards beneath my feet.
Holly gave me her innocence, trusted me enough to gift me something she can never take back. And because of that, I know I’ll destroy anything that tries to come between us.
I step under the hot shower, grateful for the propane water heater I installed. The water courses over my head, washing away the remnants of last night, but it does nothing to quell the resolve burning within me. Every instinct is honed toward Holly’s protection. Whatever her father’s business has unleashed on her will have to come through me first.
I brace my hands against the wall, letting the water spray over my back, enjoying a few moments of solitude as I go over our options. We crashed in the wilderness. We’ve taken refuge in a cabin I hoped I’d never have cause to utilize. I need to figure out our next move.
Shutting off the water, I quickly dry off and slip into clean clothes. The mirror’s reflection shows me the same hardened features, the thick beard covering my jaw. No matter how much I try to wash it away, the truth is written all over me: I’m a man who’s crossed a line. There’s no going back, and I don’t want to.
Returning to the living room, I throw on a coat from the closet and tug a worn beanie from the pocket over my damp hair. I head out the back, scanning the woods that stretch beyond the cabin and the driveway up front. There are no tracks in the snow, nothing to indicate we’ve been discovered. Maybe we’ve bought ourselves another day, maybe even enough time for her father to send reinforcements.
But I know better than to hope for miracles. Her father’s empire is collapsing, and he can’t afford to have a visible interest in us. If we’re going to survive, we’ll have to rely on ourselves.
I make my way to the shed beside the cabin. The door groans as I push it open, shadows casting deep pockets of darkness inside. As my eyes adjust, I see the classic motorcycle stowed away, a relic of my younger days. It’s not the ideal escape vehicle, not in the dead of winter with snow covering every inch of ground, but it’s better than nothing. The motorcycle isn’t just a relic; it’s a lifeline I’ve kept here for emergencies. I’ve always believed in having a backup plan for every situation, and this cabin was built on that principle.
The bike is a classic Yamaha XT500, rugged and built for off-road terrain. I chose it for its simplicity and reliability—no fancy electronics, no high-tech bells and whistles that could fail when I need it most. The kind of machine that will run on grit and determination, just like me. It’s a bike you can fix with basic tools, and I’ve stocked the shed with everything I’d need to do that.
I keep it here for reasons that go beyond practicality. For one, it’s quieter than a car and easier to maneuver through narrow trails or rough terrain. It’s not ideal in the snow, but if we have to leave the cabin and go somewhere cars can’t follow, it’s our best shot. The bike’s off-road capabilities mean it can handle forest trails, riverbanks, and even the uneven terrain of the mountains if necessary.
And then there’s the personal reason I keep it around. The motorcycle was one of the first things I bought after I left the SEALs, back when I thought I might have a life where I could ride for the hell of it, feel the wind on my face, and leave the past behind me. That dream didn’t last long. Life pulled me into a different kind of grind, but I never could bring myself to let the bike go. It’s a reminder of something simpler, something freer. Even if that freedom is a distant memory now.
I crouch beside it, running my hand along the seat, checking for any signs of wear or neglect. It’s in good shape, ready to go if we need it. But the snow makes it a last resort, and I know it. Riding it in this weather would be risky—not impossible, but not exactly a smooth ride.
Standing, I glance toward the cabin. Holly doesn’t know it yet, but this bike is our way out of here if things go south. It’s not perfect, but in a world where perfection doesn’t exist, it’s good enough. And good enough is all I need.
I make my way back inside, closing the door quietly behind me, running through different scenarios in my head.
Moving quietly to the kitchen, I open a drawer and pull out the small key with a vintage fob attached. I slip it into my jeans pocket—better to keep it on my person in case we need to move fast.
I heat water and grab the instant coffee, powdered creamer, and granola bars. As the coffee brews, I sit at the small table, waiting for the machine to finish, watching Holly as she sleeps. A smile tugs at my mouth—the woman could sleep through a tornado. I’ve spent two years watching her from a distance, learning her habits, her preferences. I remember every small detail.
For a moment, I let myself picture a world where none of this happened. A world where she isn’t a target, and I’m not the man hired to protect her. Where I can love her freely without constantly looking over my shoulder. Fuck, I want that life with her more than anything. But does she? Last night, we talked about forever, but she’s accustomed to the best of everything. Would she want the simple life I can offer?
I pour two cups, adding a bit of creamer to each. She takes her coffee with cream, no sugar. Carrying the cups and the chocolate granola bars to the sofa, I set them on the small table and ease beside her. Her soft breathing fills the room with a sense of peace, a brief respite from the danger lurking outside. I brush a stray lock of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her warm skin.
Holly stirs, a small smile crossing her lips as she tries to pull the duvet over her head. “Let me sleep, Jack,” she mumbles, her voice thick with drowsiness. “I’m so tired.”
I chuckle softly, a warmth spreading through me that I haven’t felt in years. “I’m sure you are. But we’ve got some decisions to make. And there’s food.” I gesture to the coffee and granola bars, hoping it will coax her awake.
She rolls over, inhaling deeply as she blinks her eyes open. They light up as they fall on me, and then the mug of coffee. “Oh, now this is worth waking up for,” she murmurs, wrapping her fingers around the mug like it’s the answer to all her problems.
I pass her a chocolate granola bar, watching as she tears open the package, takes a bite, and lets out a satisfied hum. “This is the good stuff,” she mutters between bites.
I grin, the simplicity of the moment a stark contrast to the chaos we faced the night before.
After a few sips of coffee, she meets my gaze, her expression softening as she comes fully awake. “So, what’s the plan?” she asks, her voice more focused now.
“I’m going to try to reach your father,” I reply, the words heavy. “Figure out what he wants us to do, where he wants us to go.”
Holly leans back against the headboard, her expression darkening. “I don’t want to go back to him, Jack. I’d rather leave the country, start fresh somewhere he can’t find us. If he’s the reason all of this is happening, I don’t want any part of it.”
I understand her reluctance. Her father’s influence has cast a shadow over her entire life. He isn’t a man who inspires loyalty or affection, and the truth is, she’s witnessed more of his flaws than his strengths. But still, running isn’t as easy as it sounds.
“Leaving the country isn’t an option without passports,” I reply, my voice gentle but firm. “And there’s nowhere you can truly disappear these days. Everything tracks us.”
A sad smile touches her lips. “I have my passport. I keep it in my bag—always have, just in case. I just… The only people tying me here are my mom and brother.”
My chest tightens as I see the cracks beneath that smile, the faint tremble in her lips she probably doesn’t even realize is there. Holly Kemp, the mob boss’s daughter, the woman who’s lived her entire life in luxury, isn’t as untouchable as she seems. Sure, she’s grown up surrounded by everything money can buy—designer clothes, extravagant vacations, cars that most people only dream of. But it’s all been a golden prison, her life dictated by her father’s whims, her every move monitored and controlled.
That smile—the one she uses like a shield—tells me everything I need to know. Beneath the surface, she’s harbored dreams of escaping that life, of breaking free from the chains her father wrapped around her without ever asking what she wanted. I can see it in the way her eyes flicker to the horizon whenever she thinks no one’s watching, in the way her voice hardens when she talks about him, in the rare moments when she lets her guard slip and I catch a glimpse of the pain she tries so hard to bury.
Despite the privilege she’s been handed, I know she’s carrying a weight most people can’t imagine. A father who sees her as a pawn, a symbol of power rather than a daughter to protect and cherish. A brother she loves but can’t shield from the same toxic world she’s endured. A mother who, though loving, has been as trapped as Holly, unable to offer her daughter the escape she so desperately craves.
And then there’s the constant danger, the knowledge that her father’s enemies see her as leverage, a bargaining chip to be used against him. The world she was born into has painted a target on her back, leaving her in a perpetual state of uncertainty, her life dictated not only by her father’s rules but by the ruthless men who would destroy her to get to him.
As I watch her now, trying to hold herself together despite everything, I wonder how she’s managed to endure it all. How she’s held onto the spark of defiance that flickers in her eyes, the quiet strength that refuses to let her crumble under the weight of it all. It’s not the kind of strength that’s loud or showy; it’s the kind that comes from years of surviving in silence, from learning how to adapt to a world that’s always been stacked against her.
Holly might not see it yet, but she’s tougher than she gives herself credit for. And it’s not only about surviving the chaos her father’s world has thrown at her—it’s about the dreams she’s kept alive, the hope that one day, she’ll be free of all this. She’s fighting for more than survival. She’s fighting for herself and the life she wants. And that kind of fight? It takes a kind of courage most people don’t even realize exists.
I swallow hard, my jaw tightening as the weight of her reality settles over me. Whatever it takes, I plan to help her shoulder that burden. I’ll be the one to give her a shot at the freedom she deserves. Because for all her strength, all her resilience, she shouldn’t have to face this alone. Not anymore.
She looks at me, a stubborn set to her jaw, a fire in her eyes that stirs something deep within me. Holly has never been one to back down, but this defiance is different. She’s prepared to walk away from everything, even if it means starting from scratch. She’s had enough of her father’s control, and for the first time, I realize the extent of her strength.
I take her hand, raising it to my mouth and kissing her palm. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll find a way to get you free from him. But we have to be smart about it. We can’t rush.”
She nods, her grip tightening, her faith in me more powerful than any promise I could make. “I trust you, Jack,” she whispers, eyes locking onto mine.
It’s not the first time she’s said it, but this time, her words dig deep. Fierce determination rises within me. I’ll protect her, not only because it’s my job, but because she’s a part of me now, and I’ll tear down anything that tries to harm her.
“We can’t stay here any longer,” I tell her.
She frowns. “Why?”
I release her hand and lean back slightly, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Because this place isn’t built for a long-term stay. And because whoever’s after you won’t stop. Staying here gives them time to close in, to figure out where we’ve gone. The longer we stay put, the higher the risk.”
Her frown deepens, worry flickering in her eyes. “So where do we go?Who can we trust?”
Valid questions.
“We’re going deeper into the mountains,” I say, deciding it’s best to keep certain details hidden for now. “A friend of mine has a cabin there. We’ll be safe while we figure out our next move.”
Holly bites her lip. “And how do we get there?”
I grin. “Ever ridden a motorcycle?”