9. Holly
Chapter 9
Holly
The water cascades over me, scalding and soothing all at once, washing away the fear that clings to my skin like a second layer. The cabin's propane-fueled water heater ensures the stream stays hot, a luxury I didn’t expect to find here in the middle of nowhere. I massage the shampoo into my scalp, inhaling the faint scent of cedar and sandalwood. It smells like Jack—woodsy, earthy, and potent.
Yesterday, my entire world burned down. My family’s mansion went up in flames, taking with it every tangible piece of the life I once knew. Everything familiar, everything that tied me to who I was before, is gone. Now, I’m here—hiding in a cabin deep in the woods, showering with borrowed toiletries and wearing clothes that aren’t mine.
Jack, my father’s most trusted bodyguard, has become my lifeline. But he’s more than that now. Protector, savior, anchor… lover. He’s all of these things rolled into one. And I’m in love with him.
As I rinse my hair, letting the water carry away the suds and, hopefully, the lingering traces of terror, my mind drifts to the events that brought us here. Men are hunting me. Whether they want to kill me or use me as leverage against my father, I don’t know. But I do know I can’t call anyone for help. I have no one to trust but Jack.
Shutting off the water, I wrap myself in a towel and take a moment to breathe in the humid air of the bathroom. Jack must’ve adjusted the propane heater before I started my shower. The warmth is comforting, another small kindness from a man who masks his tenderness behind a gruff exterior.
Once dressed in joggers I found in one of the cabin’s drawers and another oversized shirt that smells faintly of Jack, I step out into the hallway. The clothes hang loosely on me, but they’re warm, and that’s all that matters right now. I make my way to the kitchen, where Jack is seated on a barstool, his sharp eyes scanning the small window over the sink.
He opens his arms, and without hesitation, I walk into his embrace, letting my head rest against his shoulder as his arms wrap around me. The warm hug is bliss, and his solid strength reminds me I’m not alone.
“Better?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head.
I pull back slightly, kissing his cheek. “Yeah, much better.”
“I made a late lunch,” he says, indicating the crackers and tuna on the kitchen counter. “We need to eat before we leave.”
“Did you reach your friend?” I ask, taking a bite of one of the crackers.
“Yeah. Gabriel has a safe house ready for us,” he replies, keeping his voice low as he scans the window like he expects trouble to burst through it any second. “It’ll take a couple of hours and it won’t be an easy journey.”
“Gabriel?” I ask, my curiosity piqued by the name and the way Jack says it, like it carries weight.
“Gabriel Burns,” he explains, returning his gaze to me. “We served together in the SEALs. Brilliant man. He owns Burns SafeGuard out in Washington. They handle high-profile security contracts for the government. Politicians, foreign dignitaries, people who need to stay alive when others don’t want them to.”
I tilt my head, absorbing the information. “And you trust him?”
“With my life,” Jack says without hesitation, his tone so firm it leaves no room for doubt. “He’s one of the few people I know who’s as stubborn about keeping people safe as I am. He’s got resources, connections—everything we need to lie low until we figure out our next move.”
Something flickers in his eyes as he speaks—relief. And resolve. “Gabriel’s the kind of guy you call when you need a fortress, not just a hiding place. And the good thing about him? He won’t ask questions unless I want him to. He’ll help because it’s me. No strings attached.”
I nod, the tension in my chest easing a fraction. “It sounds like we’re in good hands.”
Jack leans back slightly, his posture loosening a little. “We will be once we get there. He’s got a property way off the grid, somewhere no one would think to look for us. It’s set up for situations like this.”
“Situations like this?” I repeat, my brows lifting. “You mean two fugitives running from armed men, one of whom happens to be a mob boss’s daughter?”
Jack’s lips twitch into a small, wry smile. “Gabriel’s seen worse. And believe it or not, so have I.”
That confession hangs in the air between us, a reminder of the life Jack has led, one filled with dangers I can only imagine. But beneath that is something else—a quiet reassurance. He’s been here before, in the fire, in the chaos, and he’s come out alive. If anyone can get us through this, it’s him.
The cold bites at my skin as we step outside, but I barely notice as Jack leads me to the shed where the motorcycle is stored. My heart pounds as anticipation and unease courses through me
When he first mentioned using it to reach Gabriel’s safe house, I thought he was crazy. But Jack assured me that, while not ideal in the snow, the bike is our best shot. Old enough to avoid modern tracking and small enough to get us through places a car can’t. It’ll make us harder to follow, especially in this weather.
Jack opens a small storage closet by the door and pulls out two thick jackets, gloves, and helmets. “We’ll need these,” he says, handing me a jacket and a helmet.
I raise an eyebrow, running my fingers over the smooth surface. “Two of everything. Did you expect company when you planned your great escape?”
Jack chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “You know me—plan for everything. But I certainly didn’t plan for a gorgeous blonde with curves that drive me wild and a smile that turns me inside out.”
His words hit me like a warm wave, stealing the breath from my lungs. My heart thuds in my chest as I step closer, cupping his face. “Just to be clear, the blonde is me, right?”
He smirks. “Well, there was this one blonde?—”
I cut him off by smacking my lips to his. He responds instantly, his hands settling on my hips.
“Like I could ever want any other woman when I’m holding perfection,” he says roughly when he finally breaks the kiss.
Ah, be still my beating heart and throbbing vagina.
He tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle despite the hunger in his gaze. “Ready to ride?”
I grin, my confidence bolstered by the way his eyes darken as they rake over me. “Born ready.”
Jack slants his mouth over mine again, this kiss deeper, hungrier, his tongue sweeping past my lips until I’m trembling, my body responding to him in ways I can’t control. The cold air is a sharp contrast to the heat building between us.
“Later—” he nips at my bottom lip as he pulls back, his voice like rough velvet “—I want to watch you ride my cock again, Hollyberry.”
Heat pools low in my belly at the image he’s painted so easily in my mind. My thighs clench, and I fight the urge to drag him back inside and forget about everything else.
Jack’s smirk tells me he knows exactly what he’s done. “Let’s go before I change my mind and keep you here for another kind of ride.”
I grab the gloves and jacket, my cheeks flushed but my resolve firm. “You’d better deliver on that promise, Jack,” I huff, battling with sexual frustration for the first time in my life.
His laugh is low and full of wicked intent. “Oh, I plan to.”
I slip on the jacket and gloves. The leather feels heavy and protective, and I feel a little less exposed.
Jack secures our bags to the back, his movements efficient and precise. I’m about to swing my leg over the motorcycle when Jack freezes, his hand snapping to the gun holstered at his side. His entire body stiffens, coiled like a spring, and his head tilts ever so slightly, like he’s listening for something I can’t hear.
“Going somewhere?”
The voice, low and menacing, slices through the quiet.
My blood runs cold as two men step out of the tree line, guns drawn. One of them, the taller of the two, has a smirk plastered on his face, his teeth flashing like a predator about to pounce. The second man is stockier, with a scar slashing across his jaw. His wild, darting eyes make my stomach churn with unease.
Jack moves instantly, stepping in front of me, shielding me with his body. His gun is in his hand so fast that I don’t even see him draw it. His voice is low and deadly as he addresses them. “You don’t want to do this.”
The tall man’s expression twists mockingly. “Oh, we do. Your girl’s daddy owes us, and we’re here to collect. If he won’t pay up, she’ll do just fine.”
Jack doesn’t reply. His shoulders square, his stance widening slightly. It’s like watching him become someone else—someone darker, colder. Every trace of the Jack I’ve come to know vanishes, replaced by a man built for war. His breaths slow and measured, his focus unshakable.
“Jack,” I whisper, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t look at me. His entire being is locked onto the threat in front of us.
“Drop your gun, hero,” the second man snaps, his voice higher-pitched and trembling slightly. “Your girl’s not going anywhere without us.”
“I’ll only say this once,” Jack growls, his voice filled with an icy calm that sends a chill down my spine. “Walk away. Now.”
The tall man’s grin widens. “Oh, tough guy thinks he’s Clint Eastwood. Newsflash, cowboy, this isn’t a movie.”
The second man’s finger twitches on his trigger.
Then, it’s like a switch flips.
The world becomes a blur of motion as Jack moves. He fires, his shot dropping the tall man mid-laugh, his grin freezing into a grotesque grimace as he crumples to the ground.
The second man reacts quickly, firing a wild shot, but Jack is already charging toward him, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His shoulder slams into the guy’s chest, sending him sprawling into the snow.
This Jack is a highly trained SEAL with exceptional reflexes.
This Jack has a precision and speed I can only marvel at.
And this Jack is the man I love. Every part of him. The ruthless killer. The fierce protector. The passionate lover.
A second gunshot echoes through the air. The following silence is deafening, broken only by the faint ringing in my ears.
My hand flies to my mouth in horror. For one endless second, I’m terrified that Jack has been hit.
A sob of relief escapes me as he stands, whole and unharmed, looking down at the motionless body of the second man. But my relief is short-lived.
“Holly,” Jack says hoarsely as he turns to look at me. His expression, hard and unreadable seconds ago, shifts to alarm as his eyes drop to my leg.
My stomach plummets as I follow his gaze. A dark stain blooms across the fabric of my pants above my knee. The pain doesn’t hit until I see it, sharp and searing, like a fire has been lit beneath my skin. I clutch at my thigh, my breath hitching as blood coats my gloves.
“Shit,” Jack mutters, dropping to his knees in front of me. He pushes up my pants carefully to inspect the wound. “It’s a graze,” he says, his voice clipped, his words meant to calm, though the edge in them betrays his urgency. He yanks a knife from his belt and tears a strip from his shirt with brutal efficiency. “You’ll be okay, but we need to move. Now.”
He presses the fabric against the wound, tying it tightly around my leg. The pressure makes me wince. “Stay with me, Holly. Just focus on me.”
“I’m fine,” I manage, though my voice is shaky and thin. Adrenaline pushes back the worst of the pain, but I can see the worry etched into his face.
“Fine?” he snaps, his gaze cutting to mine. “You’re bleeding and pale as hell. Let me handle fine.”
Despite everything, his words almost make me smile. “Bossy.”
Jack growls under his breath, guiding me to the bike. “Call me bossy when we’re not running for our lives.”
He helps me onto the seat, his hands firm but careful as he adjusts my position to keep weight off my injured leg as much as possible. Grabbing my helmet, he helps me put it on before donning his. Then he swings onto the bike in front of me, the leather of his jacket creaking as he leans forward and starts the engine.
“Hold on tight,” he says, glancing back at me, his eyes fierce through the visor. “And if anyone else shows up, duck.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, holding on as tightly as I can without hurting my leg. “Don’t stop,” I whisper. “No matter what.”
Jack doesn’t reply, but the hard set of his jaw tells me everything I need to know. With a sharp twist of the throttle, the bike surges forward, the snow spraying behind us as we tear away from the cabin.
The wind whips around us, and my leg throbs with every bump, but I grit my teeth, focusing on the steady warmth of Jack’s body against mine. The trees blur past us, their shadows stretching like specters in the fading light.
My thoughts swirl, questions forming like storm clouds. How many more men are out here, lying in wait, tracking our every move? I take a deep breath, pushing away the questions I have no answers for.
The trail twists and turns, but Jack handles the bike with expert precision, his focus unshakable. I close my eyes, trusting him completely as we speed away from the danger behind us.
When the trail finally gives way to a narrow road, relief washes over me. We’re alive. We’re moving forward. And as long as I have Jack, I know we’ll find a way to survive.
Finally, after a few hours, Jack takes a right, turning onto a narrow road that winds through the dense trees. Shadows stretch across the ground, casting an eerie glow as the forest closes in around us.
After a few miles, the trees part, revealing a cabin nestled in a clearing. The motorcycle crunches to a halt on the gravel driveway, surrounded by towering trees and the faint glint of a frozen creek in the distance.
Jack pauses at a set of heavy gates, punching a code Gabriel provided into the keypad, and they swing open. He doesn’t wait for them to close behind us, guiding the motorcycle swiftly up the winding path toward the cabin nestled deep in the forest.
The safe house is larger than Jack’s cabin, sturdily built and designed with security in mind. Its dark wooden exterior blends seamlessly with the surroundings, and the solar panels on the roof glint faintly in the fading daylight.
Jack pulls up, cuts the engine, and pulls off his helmet before helping me with mine. “We’re here,” he says softly.
I manage a faint nod. The pain in my leg radiates with every heartbeat, and every muscle in my body aches.
Jack climbs off the motorcycle and gently lifts me into his arms. I don’t protest because I’m like a rag doll, having lost the feeling in my limbs. The steady strength of his hold is the only thing keeping me sane right now.
Another keypad, another code, and the cabin door opens with a slight creak, revealing a modern interior outfitted with everything we need to survive—and stay hidden. Supplies are stacked neatly along the walls: medical kits, food, blankets, and weapons. It’s a fortress disguised as a home, and I send a silent prayer of thanks to Gabriel.
Jack carries me straight to the oversized leather sofa, setting me down with a tenderness that feels out of place compared to the chaos of the last few hours.
His hands linger on my arms, his gaze locking onto mine. “I’m going to take care of you,” he says firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I’m too exhausted to do more than nod.
Moving quickly, he grabs a medical kit from one of the supply stacks. He kneels beside me, his jaw tight as he surveys the blood-soaked makeshift bandage on my thigh. The sight makes my stomach churn, but Jack’s calm presence keeps me steady.
“This is going to hurt,” he warns, pulling a pair of scissors from the kit to cut away the fabric around the wound. His touch is gentle, but the sharp sting of air hitting the exposed injury makes me hiss through my teeth.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel.
“You don’t have to be,” Jack mutters, his focus laser-sharp as he examines the wound. “Clean shot, no bullet left inside, but it’s taken a chunk of flesh with it. You’re lucky.”
“Define lucky,” I joke weakly, earning a small huff of laughter from him.
Jack cleans the wound with precision, his movements efficient but careful. The antiseptic burns like fire, and I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out.
He glances up at me, his expression softening. “Almost done,” he murmurs, pulling out a roll of gauze. “You’re tough, Hollyberry.”
I manage a faint smile, the pain dulling slightly as he wraps the wound securely.
When he finishes, he sits back on his heels, wiping his hands on a towel. “You’ll need to rest that leg, but you’ll be okay.”
Moving to the stone fireplace, Jack gets a fire going with the logs and kindling stacked beside it. Soon, the living room is filled with its crackling warmth.
He pulls a blanket over me from the back of the sofa and presses a water bottle and painkillers into my hands. “Take these. They’ll help with the pain. I’m going to hide the bike and secure the perimeter.”
Before I can protest, he’s gone, his footsteps disappearing into the quiet of the cabin. I take a deep breath, the heat of the fire beginning to chase away the lingering chill in my bones. Opening the water bottle, I quickly swallow the tablets. My leg throbs, but the pain is manageable now, a dull ache that serves as a reminder of how close we came to losing everything.
Jack returns minutes later, his face grim but determined. “The property’s secure. No signs of anyone following us.”
Relief floods through me, and I sink deeper into the sofa. “What now?”
“Now,” he says, crouching beside me again, “we regroup. Gabriel will contact us when the next steps are in place. Until then, you rest, and I keep watch.”
“Jack,” I say softly, reaching for his hand. He takes it without hesitation, his fingers warm and strong around mine. “Thank you.”
His eyes soften, the hard edges of his expression giving way to something gentler. “Always, Hollyberry.”