Page 24 of Mountain Daddy (Broken Boss Daddies #1)

LILLY

T he world spins in and out of focus.

Drug-haze.

Panic-fog.

Nikolai's arms surround me like steel cables, carrying me through darkness.

Trees.

Night.

Stars overhead.

My tongue's too thick in my mouth but one word breaks through: “Chleo.”

It's all I can think. All I can say. The rest of the world has narrowed to a pinprick with my son at the center.

“He's safe,” Nikolai keeps saying. Over and over. “He's safe, Lilly. I promise.”

But I need to see him. Need to touch him. Need to know those bastards didn't get to him.

Car doors open. The world tilts as Nikolai places me in the passenger seat. His hand brushes hair from my face, tender.

“Stay with me,” he says. “We're going to him now.”

The drive passes in flashes. Streetlights. Darkness. Trees. Town. The drugs are wearing off, leaving my head pounding and my thoughts clearer, sharper.

When the car stops, we're outside a small B&B on the edge of town. Two-story Victorian. White trim. Hanging baskets on the porch.

“Maksim's got a room here,” Nikolai explains, helping me stand. My legs are still wobbly, but I can walk. Need to walk. Need to get to my son.

“Second floor,” he says, guiding me up the steps. “Room 204.”

The hallway stretches forever. Each step feels like walking through molasses, but I push harder. Faster.

Nikolai knocks. Three quick raps.

The door opens.

And there he is.

“Mama!”

Chleo flies across the room and crashes into my legs. I drop to my knees, grab him, pull him against me so hard it must hurt.

But he doesn't complain. Just wraps his little arms around my neck and holds on.

“Baby.” My voice breaks. Tears flood my eyes, spill over. “My baby.”

I can't stop touching him.

His hair.

His face.

His arms.

Checking for injuries. For trauma. For anything those monsters might have done.

“Are you okay?” I pull back just enough to see his face. “Did they hurt you?”

He shakes his head. “Nikolai saved me. He made the bad man go away. And he looked after Rosa. She was hurt.”

A sob tears from my throat. I bury my face in his hair, breathe in his scent.

“I was so scared,” he whispers.

“I know, baby. I know. But you're safe now.” I kiss his forehead, his cheeks, the crown of his head. “You're safe.”

Over Chleo's shoulder, I see Maksim. Standing quietly by the window. Watching us with eyes that miss nothing.

“Thank you,” I say. The words feel painfully inadequate. “For watching him. For keeping him safe.”

Maksim nods. There's respect in those eyes. Understanding.

“He's a good kid,” he says simply. “Smart. Like his father.”

His words hit like a physical blow. I look away, unable to meet his eyes.

Nikolai moves beside me. His hand finds my shoulder. Squeezes gently.

“We can't go back to your place,” he says. “Not safe.”

I nod. I know. After everything that's happened, there's no going back. Not to my house. Not to my old life. Not to the lies.

“My cabin,” he says. “Just until we figure things out.”

What choice do I have? Nikolai's enemies—they know where I live. Where I work. They know about Chleo.

“Okay.”

Chleo's eyes are already drooping. The adrenaline crash hitting him hard. I scoop him up, and he curls against me like he did when he was a baby.

“Let's go home, buddy,” I whisper.

But where is home now?

The drive to Nikolai's cabin is quiet. Chleo falls asleep almost immediately, his head in my lap.

Nikolai drives in silence. His knuckles are bloodied. His jaw tight. The darkness in his eyes no longer scares me. I know it's what kept us alive tonight.

The blood on his hands? I’m grateful to him for it.

“Thank you,” I say finally. “For finding me. For saving him.”

His eyes flick to me, then back to the road. “You don't need to thank me for that.”

“I do.” I swallow hard. “I was wrong, Nikolai. About Maksim. About... a lot of things.”

He doesn't respond. Just keeps driving, the trees thickening around us as we head deeper into the woods.

The cabin appears, dark and hulking in the headlights. Log walls. Wraparound porch. Same as I remember.

The last time I was here? We had fucked each other senseless.

“Spare bedroom's on the left,” Nikolai says as he kills the engine. “For Chleo.”

I nod. Gather Chleo in my arms. He doesn't stir. Exhausted. Overwhelmed. My poor baby.

Inside, the cabin is surprisingly warm. Cozy, even. Leather furniture. Woven rugs. A stone fireplace dominating one wall. I hadn’t noticed when I was here last. I was too busy tasting Nikolai.

I carry Chleo to the spare room. Tuck him into the double bed that swallows his small frame. Kiss his forehead. Whisper that I love him.

He murmurs something in his sleep. Turns over. Drifts deeper.

When I come back, Nikolai is standing by the fireplace. He's built a small fire, flames licking at the wood, casting shadows across his face.

There's a glass in his hand. Whiskey, probably. Another sits on the mantle.

“Drink,” he says, nodding to it. “It'll help.”

I take the glass. Sip. The liquor burns down my throat, ignites in my chest. Warmth spreads outward, chasing away some of the lingering chill.

“Chleo asleep?” he asks.

I nod. “Out cold. He's had... a day.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. The understatement of the year.

Nikolai watches me over the rim of his glass. Those intense eyes missing nothing. Seeing everything.

Including the truth I've been hiding for five years.

“We need to talk,” I say finally. The words taste like ash in my mouth.

“Yes.” His voice is quiet. Controlled. “We do.”

I take another swallow of whiskey. Bigger this time.

Liquid courage.

“Chleo is yours.”

The words hang in the air between us. My words? They change everything.

Nikolai doesn't move. Doesn't blink. Just watches me with those predator eyes.

“I know,” he says finally.

Of course he does. He's known since he saw Chleo that first day in the bakery. Known in a way that goes beyond DNA tests or birth certificates.

Cellular recognition. Bone-deep knowledge.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper. “For lying. For running. For keeping him from you.”

He sets his glass down. Steps closer. “Why?”

It's not an accusation.

Just a question.

Simple. Direct.

Impossible to answer.

But I try.

“I was scared,” I admit. “Terrified, actually. I saw what you did to that man in the alley.”

He doesn't deny it. Doesn't try to explain it away.

“I found out I was pregnant some weeks later. I was alone, working a dead-end job, had slept with a man I barely knew.”

The words tumble out now, unstoppable. “A dangerous man. A man who hurt people.”

“And you thought I'd hurt our son.” Not a question. A statement of fact.

“No.” I shake my head. “I thought your world would hurt him. I thought he'd get caught in the crossfire.”

Nikolai's jaw tightens. “Like tonight.”

The irony isn't lost on either of us. I ran to protect my son from Nikolai's world, only for that world to find us anyway.

“I didn't know if you'd even want him,” I continue. “I didn't know if you'd want a child with... someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

“A waitress. A nobody. A one-night stand.”

His expression darkens. “You were never just a one-night stand, Lilly.”

The words hit harder than they should. Make my heart flutter in a way it has no right to.

“I know why you're in Fern Falls,” I say, changing direction. Needing to know everything now. No more secrets. “Those men weren't just random criminals. They knew you. They were looking for you.”

He turns away. Stares into the fire.

“Viktor Kozlov,” he says finally. “That's who I killed.”

The name means nothing to me. Just another Russian criminal in a world full of them.

“I know…you kill people.” I pale. He observes. Watches.

“He set fire to an apartment building in Chicago,” Nikolai explains. “Trying to force the owners to sell and when they wouldn’t, thought he’d ruin the value of the place. There were families inside. Women. Children.”

My stomach turns. “Was anyone hurt?”

Nikolai looks harrowed. “Fifteen people died. Mostly women and children. Including a three-year-old girl.”

The horror of it settles over me like a shroud.

“So I killed him,” Nikolai says simply. “Three bullets to the chest. In front of witnesses.”

“That's why you left Chicago?”

“The police have a warrant out for me. And the Kozlov family... they want me dead.”

The pieces click into place. Nikolai didn't come to Fern Falls looking for me. He came here hiding from the consequences of his actions.

“And now they've found you,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “They would have found me eventually. Small towns talk.”

“But they used me to get to you.”

“Yes.”

The truth hurts, but I need it. All of it.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I whisper.

“Didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know if you had it out for me,” he shrugs.

“Had it out for you?” I hiss. “Why would I ever?”

“Your cousin. The man in the square you were hugging. He’s Bratva. In with the Kazlovs sometimes.”

“He—what?” His words hit like a sledgehammer.

Nikolai's sighs. “He told me you were innocent. I didn’t know what to believe. You kept lying to me. I wondered why.”

“I knew Ivan had... connections. Tattoos he tried to hide when he visited. I didn't know exactly what kind,” I whisper.

“He was Bratva,” Nikolai says. “But I think he’s trying to get out. That's why he moved here. Fresh start.”

I close my eyes. The betrayal cuts deep. My own family, part of the world I've been running from.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper again. “For everything. For running. For keeping Chleo from you. I know I ruined any chance we might have had. I don't expect forgiveness.”

I feel the tears coming again.

Hot.

Shameful.

I try to blink them away, but they fall anyway. Track down my cheeks like evidence of my guilt.

“I just want my son to be safe,” I say. “He can't be mixed up in all this. In Bratva warfare. In violence.”

Nikolai moves closer. So close I can feel his heat. Smell his cologne mixed with blood.

“I agree,” he says softly.

I look up, surprised. “You do?”

“I don't want that life for him either.” His hand comes up, brushes a tear from my cheek. “I should be furious with you, Lilly. Should hate you for what you took from me.”

I wait for the but.

For the anger.

For the punishment.

Instead, his thumb traces my cheekbone, gentle as a whisper.

“But I can't,” he says. “You're mine. And he's mine. The two of you are safe. That's all that matters.”

Something breaks inside me. Some dam I've built to hold back the terror and grief and exhaustion of the day.

I collapse forward. Into his chest. Into his arms.

He catches me. Holds me. His hands stroke my hair as I sob against his shirt.

“It's okay,” he murmurs. “You're safe now. Both of you.”

I don't deserve this kindness. This forgiveness. But I take it anyway. Selfish. Desperate.

Eventually, the sobs subside. The adrenaline crash hits me hard. My limbs feel leaden. My eyes heavy.

Nikolai guides me to the couch. Settles beside me. Pulls me against his chest.

His heart beats strong and steady under my ear. His arms hold me like I'm something precious. Something worth protecting.

Sleep pulls at me. Drags me under.

Just before I surrender to it, the words slip out. Soft. Unplanned. True.

“I love you.”

He doesn't say it back. Doesn't stiffen or pull away. Just presses his lips to the top of my head.

Not a promise. But maybe a beginning.