Page 1 of Single Mom’s Mountain Men (Mountain Men Reverse Harem #1)

Patty

M y heart beats like it’s going to pound out of my chest.

Probably courtesy of the now empty flask of coffee that I’ve been sipping for the last thirty miles.

I raw-dogged the first half of the journey, on nothing but pure, fear-fueled adrenaline, but those last five hours I’ve needed the liquid encouragement, and thankfully, in my haste to get away from my ex-boyfriend, I managed to pack a thermos full of coffee.

But now I’m feeling the effects.

“Mommy.” A loud whine from the rear of the vehicle spikes my blood pressure, even though in the back of my mind, I know it’s only my daughter speaking. “Are we there yet? I’m tired.”

“No honey.” I try to keep my voice stable, to prevent alerting my four-year-old that anything is wrong. Still, my hands tremble against the wheel. “We’re not, but just hang in there, okay? We’ll be there soon.”

Maddie emits a sigh and a high-pitched grumble, her voice shaky and strained.

She kicks the back of the passenger seat in protest, and I wait for it, the inevitable explosion of emotion.

She’s been doing well so far, holding on.

The first six hours she was excited about this impromptu road trip and looked forward to the surprise I promised her at the end of it.

But now, ten hours later, after being cooped up in a car with infrequent naps, terrible radio music, and eating nothing but snacks and junk food, she is officially irritable.

And with a four-year-old, ‘irritable’ can quickly turn into ‘hysterical’.

In the rearview mirror, I glance at my other daughter, Katie, who is six.

She’s silent but I can see the strain on her face, caused both from the impromptu trip and the stress of spending so much time with her far more extroverted and temperamental sister.

Katie doesn’t do well with impromptu happenings.

She prefers plans and routines and is more comfortable when we stick to her schedule for the most part.

I know she has been looking forward to starting elementary school and is worried that this unarranged trip might derail her.

I only got her to agree to it by telling her that she would be going to a much better school in the new place.

Of course, in reality I have no clue if that’s true or not since I don’t know where we’re going.

But hopefully, I haven’t just lied to my daughter.

As Maddie kicks the back of the chair again, scuttling in her seat, Katie looks out the window and emits another loud sigh. I know Katie won’t throw a tantrum. She’s always been the mature one, and far too mature for her age, but I also hate that I’m putting her through this at such an early age.

Of course, it’s for their own good in the long run, I know. But knowing this doesn’t make it any easier.

I shift my eyes away from my rear-view mirror and focus back on the road. We need to stop soon, for gas and to replenish our snack supply. And maybe for more coffee. This much caffeine can’t be good, but I’ve been driving for sixteen hours now. I need something to keep me going.

I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back.

Ugh, I feel and probably smell disgusting.

Thanks to the insufficient power of the AC our windows are down, and the oppressive heat of Montana in the summer is beating down on us, which is probably another reason why my girls are so irritated.

But this old heap of rust and scrap heap-salvaged spare parts was all that that bastard would let me have.

The long stretches of road and barely changing scenery that Montana is so well known for continues to fly by the window.

Eventually the kids drift off into restless slumbering.

I start feeling the weight of my own eyelids get heavier, and the act of sitting in the driver’s seat for hours at a time in the same posture is beginning to feel like some kind of slow and painful torture technique.

Maddie wakes, and after a while she starts kicking the back of the passenger seat again.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I tell myself it’s fine and to just ignore it.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Maddie, stop that," I finally snap, my patience wearing thin.

“How much longer?” She whines, putting her little hands over her face. “I can’t take it anymore, Mommy.”

I spot a gas station in the distance and figure it’s as good an opportunity as any to stretch my legs and have my girls work off some of that excess energy.

“We’re stopping soon,” I tell Maddie. "But please stop kicking the seat okay? This car already has enough problems and the last thing we want is for it to break down in the middle of nowhere."

Maddie crosses her hands over her chest and her mouth sets into a pout. It’s not an agreement but it should keep her steady for the next few minutes at least.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” Katie finally speaks up quietly.

“I know baby, I’m hungry too. Look, there’s a gas station up ahead. We’ll get something good at the gas station, okay?”

“What if they don't have anything good?" This is from Maddie.

“They will. I’m sure they will.” However, once we pull off the asphalt and onto the concrete that comprises varying ages of dusty, gray slabs, interspersed with a wide range of weeds of varying sizes and shapes, I’m less sure.

The gas station shop, called Stop ‘n Shop , appears tiny, with aging and flyblown posters in rusting metal frames, chipped paint of varying hues on the ancient, splintered woodwork that tell secrets of previous times when the place had been better cared for, and at least one broken window that has been taped over with duct tape.

The S of the word Shop is hanging off the sign, held on by a single wire.

The roof sags a little under the weight of its cracked and weather-worn asphalt shingles.

In short, the whole place looks like the best thing you could do with it would be to run a bulldozer through it and start over again.

Through the dirty glass windows, I spot someone reading a magazine who doesn’t look up when we drive in, even though we’re the only car in the gas station.

I pull to a stop in front of one of the self-service pumps, releasing a sigh, and then as I hear the girls reach for the door handle I shout, “Wait!”

They both freeze.

I glance out the window, scanning the empty roads as though waiting for a boogey man to pop out. I’ve been periodically looking through my rear-view mirror as we drove, making sure no black Chevy Suburbans are following us .

The Suburbans are the vehicles my ex's men use, hence my constant lookout for them. My ex himself – Keegan – drives a silver Mercedes S class sedan, so I check out for those as well, even though I’m not expecting to see him.

He’s generally far too lazy to do his own dirty work, preferring to leave it to one or more of his paid henchmen to perform on his behalf.

While driving and just as an extra safety measure, I ensure that I don’t see the same car following us for too long a stretch.

If I do I pull over and let it go by, then wait ten minutes before continuing.

That said, I am pretty sure Keegan isn't looking for us yet. He probably has his hands full with the FBI raid going on at the house. Plus, I have deliberately left my phone, my credit cards, and everything else he could use to track me, including one or two pieces of jewelry that I am certain he’s put embedded trackers in.

He thinks I don't know about those. Keegan thinks I am an idiot just because I came from a poor family and never went to college or got my GED.

But this ‘idiot’ just played a key role in bringing down his empire.

This idiot also used her credit card to buy flights to Seattle, Washington and reserved a room at a large and busy hotel in the area, laying a false trail to delay him for hopefully at least a little while.

Either way, I know Jeremy is probably not going to be looking for me around here quite yet. But I can't be too sure. I can’t let my guard down yet, not until I’m sure we’re safe.

Although, I’m not even sure what ‘safe’ would look like at this point.

I scan the roads once more, heart racing, my vision a little blurry at the edges. That’s not a good sign. My paranoia combined with the heat nearly causes a mirage of a black Suburban, but when I blink it’s gone. Still, I ask my girls, “You girls don’t see any cars on the road right?’

“Cars?" Maddie cranes her head and looks.

“There are no cars, Mom,” Katie says.

“Alright. Good. You guys can get out, but stay close to me okay?"

They both nod and I sigh in relief. They’re such good girls. Even in times like this, where they could be making things more difficult for me they’re being as obedient and patient as they can be.

My precious daughters.

I’ll protect you with everything I have. He’ll never get the chance to touch you again .

I open my door and put my feet on the ground before stepping out, but almost immediately my legs almost crumple under me. My hip slams into the door, and my knee bumps the ground as I hook my elbow on the window frame to prevent myself from falling completely.

“Mom!” Katie yells as she and Maddie run to me.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I say, forcing my stiff legs to work again.

They obey me, albeit shakily and I straighten up.

"I guess my legs just fell asleep." Another poor sign.

It seems that my exhaustion is vehemently fighting the effects of the coffee and it might win any time soon.

I need to find a place where I can rest at least for a few hours before we continue our journey.

The last thing I want to do is to fall asleep at the wheel and endanger my girls.