The Mountain Man's Mail-Order Mafia Princess (Mountain Man Sanctuary Season 2 #7)

Chapter One

The driver took the next curve too fast, and I pitched sideways across the seat.

I caught myself against the door before my forehead met the window.

“Are you trying to kill me before we get there?”

“No, Miss Talia, I’m not.”

“Then slow down.”

He eased off the gas. Dust rolled past the windows, turning sunlight gold between the pines.

I shifted my handbag onto my lap.

“Daddy really told you not to bring my suitcases?”

“Yes, he did.”

“And you listened?”

The driver met my eyes in the mirror. “He signs my checks.”

“He used to sign mine too. Look how well that worked out.”

My phone had lost service. The screen showed my father’s message.

DADDY: You’ll stay one week. Then we’ll discuss whether you’re ready to come home.

He intended to decide when I was ready, as though eight months of therapy had turned me into an appliance he could reset in Colorado.

Daddy had found the therapy bills I’d hidden among consulting reimbursements in his office. He wasn’t angry about the money. He was furious that I’d talked about myself—and our family—to someone he hadn’t approved.

By Saturday morning, my cards were frozen, my office access was gone, and he had given me two choices.

“You can return to Brooklyn under closer supervision, or spend one week in Colorado with the mountain man who accepted your placement through Mountain Mates.”

I’d chosen Colorado before Daddy finished his espresso.

The road leveled, and a cabin appeared beyond the trees.

“That’s it?” I asked.

The driver slowed near the front step. “That’s the address.”

There were no neighboring houses, no cars, and no sign of the man who’d agreed to receive me.

An engine sounded behind us.

A work truck came around the bend.

“Mr. Bricker is here.”

The truck stopped at an angle behind the SUV, blocking most of the road.

The man who stepped out looked like Jonah Bricker’s profile picture had been taken before someone informed him shirts came with buttons.

His olive work shirt hung open over a fitted charcoal T-shirt.

Dust streaked the canvas pants covering his long legs, and sweat darkened the fabric between his shoulder blades.

He had dark brown hair, a short beard, and enough width through his chest to make the truck behind him look smaller than it had a moment ago.

The photograph hadn’t shown the sun-browned skin or the way his eyes shifted between the SUV, the cabin, and me without lingering where most men would have.

That should’ve made him less irritating.

It didn’t.

Jonah shut the truck door and came toward us. “Is something wrong?”

The driver got out before I could answer. “Mr. Bricker?”

“That’s me.”

“I was instructed to wait until you arrived.”

Jonah stopped beside the hood. “Instructed by who?”

The driver opened my door.

Hot air rushed into the SUV, carrying pine, dust, and the sharp scent of something freshly cut. I turned sideways and planted both stilettos before I stood. The uneven ground tried to send me back into the seat, but I caught the doorframe and stepped clear.

Jonah’s gaze dropped to my shoes.

“These are appropriate footwear in civilization,” I said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did.”

His mouth moved at one corner, but the expression disappeared before it became a smile.

The driver closed my door. “My assignment is complete.”

“No, it isn’t.” I pointed toward the empty cargo space visible through the rear window. “You’re taking me back to the airport.”

“I can’t do that, Miss Talia.”

“You drove me here. I have complete confidence in your ability to reverse the process.”

“My instructions were to deliver you and confirm Mr. Bricker was present.”

Jonah looked from the driver to me. “Deliver her for what?”

The driver’s shoulders went rigid beneath his suit jacket.

I folded my arms. “Mountain Mates.”

Jonah didn’t react.

“The placement service,” I added.

“I know what Mountain Mates is.”

“Then we’re making progress.”

“I don’t have a profile.”

The driver stepped toward the front of the SUV. “Mr. Bricker, I’ve confirmed your identity. I need to leave before dark.”

Jonah moved into his path. He didn’t touch him or raise his voice. He simply occupied enough space to make going around him difficult.

“You can’t leave her here until we sort this out.”

“I’m required to follow my instructions.”

“So am I,” I said. “Mine are to stay one week with the man who accepted me.”

Jonah looked at me. His eyes were green around the edges and brown near the center, though I had no business noticing the distinction while he denied knowing why I was standing outside his house.

“I didn’t accept anyone.”

The driver opened his door.

I caught the handle before he could pull it shut. “You’re seriously leaving me here with a stranger who claims he didn’t invite me?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Talia.”

“Being sorry doesn’t make this less insane.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

His voice lowered, and he held my gaze instead of looking toward the road.

He looked at my hand on the door. “Your father was explicit.”

Of course he was.

Daddy could make a threat sound like a dinner reservation, but the people who worked for him never mistook one for the other.

I released the handle.

The driver climbed inside. “Mr. Bricker, the placement records list this address and your acceptance. Someone from the family office verified your public information before the trip.”

“My public information isn’t consent.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

The driver looked at Jonah for a long second. “I do now.”

The SUV pulled away before I could decide whether to block it with my body or my handbag. Dust swallowed the taillights, drifted between the trees, and settled over the road.

Jonah and I stood in the silence it left behind.

I checked my phone again.

My phone still showed no bars.

I held up the screen. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”

“No.”

“That would’ve been too convenient.”

“I have electricity and running water.”

“That’s a start.”

“They’re usually enough to get through an evening.”

“Please tell me you don’t also churn butter.”

“No, but I can tell when someone’s trying to insult me.”

“I’m trying to understand how you conduct business without internet access.”

“I leave the house.”

His answer should’ve annoyed me more than it did.

Jonah walked toward his porch, then stopped when I didn’t follow. “Do you have the confirmation?”

I opened the Mountain Mates email saved on my phone and crossed the dirt after him. Each step required more concentration than I cared to display. When one heel sank into a soft patch, Jonah’s hand lifted, then dropped before he touched me.

I reached the porch without help.

He waited until I was steady before taking the phone.

The email showed his photograph, his name, the cabin address, and a line confirming that Talia R. had been accepted for a one-week placement.

Jonah read it twice.

“Where did you get this?”

“It arrived through the placement concierge.”

“I didn’t send it.”

“Your photograph did an impressive amount of traveling without you.”

He handed back the phone. “That picture is on my business page.”

“So someone stole your photograph, created a profile, accepted me, provided your address, and arranged for my arrival?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’re lying.”

His eyes narrowed, but his voice remained level. “If I were lying, I’d probably have food in the house for two people.”

“I’m not sure your meal planning proves innocence.”

“It proves I wasn’t expecting company.”

He turned toward his truck and opened the passenger door.

A radio handset rested near the console.

Behind the seat were work gloves, a hard hat, a first-aid kit, and enough equipment to support his claim that he’d come home from an actual job rather than an afternoon posing for mountain-man photographs.

I pressed my lips together.

Jonah lifted the radio. “This reaches a local repeater. I can contact someone in Promise Ridge if you need help.”

“I need a phone.”

“This won’t make a private long-distance call.”

“Then it doesn’t solve my problem.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.”

He returned the handset and reached behind the seat for a small orange device. “This is an emergency beacon. If you’re hurt, in danger, or need law enforcement, I’ll use it.”

“I’m not activating an emergency beacon because my father is controlling.”

Jonah studied my face. “Are you in danger from him?”

He kept his hand around the beacon while he waited for my answer.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s furious with me. He isn’t going to hurt me.”

Jonah nodded once. “What about the driver?”

“He won’t disobey Daddy, but he wouldn’t hurt me either.”

“That doesn’t make leaving you here acceptable.”

“We agree on that.”

His jaw set as he looked down the empty road.

I opened my handbag and searched through it, though I already knew what I had. My wallet held my identification, three frozen cards, and no cash. My charger was no help without a signal. Cosmetics occupied more space than everything else combined.

Jonah looked away while I checked a side pocket.

“I don’t have money for a hotel,” I said.

“You don’t need money from me to get out of here.”

“I didn’t ask you for any.”

“I know.”

He didn’t reach for my bag or offer money.

I looked at him.

Jonah leaned against the truck, leaving space between us. “Promise Ridge is about forty minutes away. I can drive you there.”

“Now?”

“I can. The last part of the road is easier in daylight, and we’d be coming back after dark if there isn’t anywhere available tonight.”

“I wouldn’t be coming back.”

“That would be your choice.”

He waited without trying to change my answer.

I drew a shallow breath.

The heat lower in my abdomen was easier to identify.

I curled my fingers around the handbag strap. “What happens at daylight?”

“I’ll take you into town. You’ll have cell service there. You can call whoever you want, get a room, arrange a ride, or leave Colorado.”

“You really don’t care which one I choose?”

“I care that you get a real choice.”

I swallowed.

I turned toward the cabin so Jonah wouldn’t see.