“Yuck, daddy. This doesn’t taste very good,” Chase says.

He’s right. It tastes like shit. I’m right, too. There can’t be a bigger fucking fool than me in this entire universe. “I know. Eat what you can.”

The diner is small, and I’d bet the health department doesn’t even know it exists, but the boys were hungry. My fault. I’d dragged them out of the lodge as soon as they had their bags packed. Right after I’d written that note to Tabby.

Fucking bastard. That’s what I am. Leaving her a Dear Jenny like that. Or whatever the fuck the male equivalent of a Dear John letter is. If two vile words can be called any kind of letter at all.

Just thinking of the words I'd scratched turns my stomach worse than this crappy food.

“Already ate what I can, Daddy,” Adam says, pushing his plate away from him. After a long sigh, he adds, “Miss Tabby's cupcakes.”

The truth hurts like a B. I wish I had Cupcake, too.

She was...I shake my head. There’s no way to describe her. She’s too unique. Too remarkable. Too beautiful. Too kind. Too good for the likes of me.

I'd taken everything from her last night and I hadn't left her with more than numb chicken scratch.

Fuck.

But what the hell else could I do? Stay in the lodge, screw up her life with Morris, and keep them in real danger? None of us need drama.

When there are wolves on the prowl, drama is a distraction, and distractions can be fatal.

Reaching in my back pocket, I pull out my billfold and fish out a couple worn bills to pay for the meal none of us was able to eat. “Let’s go.”

The boys beat me to the door. Once they're strapped into the car seats that take up most of the interior, I start the truck.

“Are we going back to Tabby’s now?” Adam asks. “I'm tired.”

“No. Sorry.”

“I like it there,” Chase says. “Why can't we, Daddy?”

I don't answer. They're making this hard. Maybe it's what I deserve.

“Me, too,” Adam says. “And I like Tabby, too.”

Me, three.

Swallowing a sigh, I shift into drive and pull out of the parking lot.

We could head for the border, but our identities would be recorded. I’m sure the Syndicate has money to grease anybody manning the crossings. I can’t risk it.

I drive on, further down the highway, pass into Split Harbor, no fucking clue where the hell we're actually going.

If only there was someone I could contact. Someone I could trust. Fuck, and I never did write that note giving Tabby the right to the boys if something wicked happens to me. She’s the only person I can trust with them. Will trust with them.

And now she's gone.

“I’m still hungry, daddy.” Chase rubs his stomach. “Don't feel good, maybe. Oh, daddy, I think I've gotta –”

Shit! I know my boys, and this one's about to throw up.

I hit the blinker and spin the truck around, pulling into the gas station on the edge of town where I’d seen the bikers. I scramble, getting the boys out of their seats and usher them inside, straight to the bathrooms along the back wall.

No one throws up, thank God. But Adam keeps wiping his lips with his sleeve.

“Every time I burp my mouth tastes funny. Icky.”

“Me, too,” Chase says.

They aren't kidding about the indigestion. I’d ordered all three of us the chili, mainly because the boys had liked the bowls we’d eaten at the lodge. It was really good. Hell, everything was decent, if not awesome. What we’d just attempted to eat, not even close.

“Come on,” I say. “There's a little deli here. We’ll get something else in your stomachs.”

Adam covers another burp. “Not chili. Please.”

“No chili,” I agree.

I convince them to try the chicken noodle soup, and let them each pick out something else. Not surprisingly, they choose a twin pack of cheap mass produced cupcakes. I don’t have the heart to tell them the cupcakes aren’t as good as they look. Nothing like hers.

There’s a man dressed in army fatigues ahead of us in the checkout line. A soldier in familiar desert camo, which I haven't worn for the better part of the last decade. His outfit kicks up memories, easier times before my life was shot to hell. Finding life easier in a war zone says a lot.

The more I stare at his boots, how his pants are tucked into them, a smile tugs at my lips. Knox, an army buddy, hated that rule. Tucking things in all clean for review. Said it made us look like mannikins, not fighters.

Knox.

Shit.

Knox! Why hadn’t I thought of him till now?

“Wait here,” I tell the boys before spinning around. Back by the cupcakes, I find what I’m looking for. Stationary supplies. I grab a small notebook, box of envelopes, and pack of pens.

Back at the check-out, I recognize the clerk. Damn, it feels like ages ago. The boys have already set their snacks on the counter “Is it all right if we eat this here?” I assumed it was, but the set up seems odd since you have to pay for it all first.

“Of course, that’s what the booths are for.” She smiles at the boys. “If they need seconds on the soup, go ahead and fill up their bowls again. These little Styrofoam things don’t hold much.”

“Thanks, will do.”

We settle into a booth. The boys don’t seem to mind the soup at all. Or the dozen tiny packages of crackers they’d scooped up. While they eat, and in between opening crackers myself, I write a letter to Knox and stuff it in an envelope. The boys had just opened their cupcakes and they're excited to see sugary white frosting stuff in the center.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, scooting out of the booth, keeping them in sight. “Stay here.”

At the checkout counter, I ask the clerk, “Where’s the post office here?”

“That'd be the corner of Eight and Crescent, but Davey’s next door. Saw him pull in a minute ago.”

My frown must have explained my confusion as to who Davey is.

She laughs. “Davey’s our mailman. He’ll be in any minute. Eats lunch here a couple times a week.” She smiles and nods towards the boys. “Chicken noodle is Davey’s favorite, too.”

I nod. “Thanks, but I have to buy stamps.”

“Hold on, I have a couple in my purse you can have. Sharing is caring. That's how we work it in Split Harbor.” She plants a huge bag on the counter. “Hang on, just let me find them.”

“That’s okay. I've got an address to Google.” Hearing how suspicious that sounds, I add, “It’s an old friend. I don’t have his address memorized.”

“Well, we've got free Wi-Fi. Here's your stamps.” She peels a couple off and hands them to me.

Feeling inclined, I take them, and dig a couple of quarters out of my pocket.

“No, I don’t want any money. It’s just stamps. Better get moving so you can give the letter to Davey.”

I nod, but the tablet is in the truck.

“Forgot your phone? Need to use mine?”

She sure is accommodating. I try not to think of Tabby, wonder if this small town attitude is part of what made her who she is.

“Mine’s in the truck,” I say. It's the cheap burner I bought last week and haven't switched on since it was activated. It's good for texting, pay-per-minute calls, basic internet, and nothing else.

“Go get it. I’ll keep an eye on your boys.”

I glance at them and then my truck.

“Go on!” she says. “I had six kids. Got seven grandkids and three more on the way.”

It's always hard to walk away. I don't want them out of my sight.

There’s also no way hair that yellow is natural, and fingernails that long have to get in the way, but she seems sincere. “I’ll be right back,” I say, taking the opportunity to make it fast.

I’m out and back inside, with the tablet in hand, in no time. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she replies.

Back at the booth, I Google Knox’s full name in Phoenix, Arizona. He's been there for years, made his way up in the world, the diamond trade that made his family rich. He's running a billion dollar company these days and he owns a goddamn mansion. It takes me a few minutes to find it, and then cross check the country property records with a Facebook account.

Time running short, I scratch out a brief note and quickly address the envelope. A moment later, a mailman appears next to our table.

“Shirley says you have a letter to mail?”

I eye him up and down, looking for a way to tell if he’s legit or not. His once red hair is streaked with gray and his green eyes are lined with the kind of wrinkles that come from smiling a lot. He also has on a uniform and he's carrying a U.S. mail bag.

He opens a flap. “Right in here. That’s the outgoing pocket.”

There are several other letters in the pouch, so I drop in the letter to Knox. “Thanks.” It's like something from the seventies, but time moves slower in this town.

“No problem.” He grins at the boys. “Did you like the soup?”

They both nod.

“Me, too.” He leans closer to me. “Hey, pal, quick tip: don’t ever let them eat across the street at The Ladle.” With a wink he adds, “Stray cats don’t dig in their trash. If you know what I mean.”

I nod, wishing I’d known that an hour ago. As we walk out, I thank both Davey the mailman and Shirley the clerk again, and hope like hell Knox will help me out of this mess. Army bonds run deep, but we haven't kept in touch like we should. The shit with Nelia, the boys, Knox and his little girl...

Of course, I mentioned my kids. He's just like me, a single dad up till recently. I saw on Facebook he's gotten married, same chick he used to drone on about late nights overseas many years ago, a girl he called Sunflower. She's older, but just as pretty, her smile too damn bright and beautiful and too much like Tabby's.

The boys climb into their car seats and I make sure they’re buckled tight before walking around to the driver’s door. With every step, I wonder where we should go now. The lodge had been perfect.

Unknown.

Hidden.

And Tabby's there.

The very reason I can’t return. The Syndicate is on my trail. Looking for me. Hunting.

They don’t give a rat’s ass that Nelia's dead, but they do care that they no longer have a pigeon to launder the money they make off the heroin they line the streets with. Plus they care a whole hell of a lot that I killed their own flesh and blood.

Bastards make a lot more money than I ever laundered altogether, so I was only one among many for them to feed on, but Aiden's also dead. They blame me. They will avenge him.

They'd like nothing more than to knock me off, and don’t care who they have to kill in the process.

The twins, Tabby, her friends and family at the lodge...fuck. If only I hadn't been thinking with my dick last night. If I hadn't let that old man find me and her together this morning, hadn't screwed her life almost as bad as mine...

I couldn't stay and just cause drama. Hell, it might've poisoned the atmosphere there so bad we'd all be blind to any intruders. Any danger. And even though I've never been a hunted man before, I know any mistakes in this situation are lethal.

Shitfire. I should have killed Aiden’s bodyguard when I had the chance. If I hadn't let the puke live, hadn't let him see my face...shoulda, coulda, woulda is an infectious, toxic thing. Besides, I knew even then they’d be after me, whether he was dead or alive, and I’m not a cold blooded killer.

Punching back, shooting in self-defense is one thing. Obliterating an injured man is a bridge too far.

I climb in and start the engine.

“Are we going home now?” Chase asks.

I shift the truck into reverse. “No.” We may never go home again. Don’t really have one anymore. I’m sure the Syndicate already ransacked our old house outside the city. Probably burned it to the ground, along with my shop. I miss that shop like hell, had it attached to the garage, full of old tools from my grandfather. It'd seen better days for business use, but damn, it got my mind off bad shit. Let me tinker. Helped me escape.

“But...but I wanna see if Tabby can put that white stuff in cupcakes,” Adam says.

“Me, too!” Chase says. “That was good. Tabby'd do better.”

It dawns on me then that they're not talking about Chicago. Home to them is the lodge.

Christ. I can see why. Even though we’d only been there a few weeks, we’d all enjoyed our time. Especially last night.

My cock swells just thinking about her. Being in her bed. Taking a shower with her before we both crashed, happy and spent and grinning ear-to-ear.

“Tabby can make it like that can’t she, Daddy?”

Adam's still talking about cupcakes, but my mind is on all the other things Cupcake can do. “Probably,” I grunt reluctantly.

“So can we go home? Daddy please?” Chase's little eyes are pleading.

“To Tabby’s cabin?” Adam adds. “We like it there.”

“Me, too.”

I hit the blinker switch and pull into the parking lot of a big box store. I really shouldn't.

It’s not very big, more like the smallest big box store in America, but it’ll work. I have to conserve money, I tell myself. Buying snacks for the boys to eat will be cheaper than eating in restaurants, at least until I can figure out what to do next. That much is true, but the bigger truth is I'm dragging my fucking feet no thanks to them, leaving this place.

The boys let out hefty sighs, but don’t complain when I shut off the truck. They barely say a word as we walk into the store and I grab a cart. I head towards the grocery aisles. With the boys following, I wander up and down the lanes. After eating the wholesome, good food at the lodge for so long, nothing looks the least bit appetizing. For us, it's all instant crap, granola bars and beef jerky, stuff that'll stay good on the road while we're moving.

They spy a box of cupcakes like the ones they’d eaten at the gas station, and I agree they can each get a pack. I’m sure Tabby could make some vastly tastier than those. There isn’t much she can’t do.

While walking past shelves of laundry soap, I let out a heavy sigh. She’d even done that. Washed all of our clothes. Regularly. They came back clean and folded, left outside our door, part of the lodge's laundry service for guests who stayed more than a few days.

And I’d walked out on her. No explanation. Barely any words.

Maybe I deserve this hell. But Chase and Adam damn sure don't. No pride or screwed up sense of justice means they ought to pay for their father's sins.

“Are we almost done, Daddy?”

Adam clings to the side of the cart, riding it, looking bored as a kid can be. Chase is on the other side, his face the same glum mask, and not just because they're twins.

“Yeah, we’re done,” I say.

We have to walk past the pharmacy on the way to the checkout lanes, and that too makes me think of Cupcake and the handful of condoms we'd blown through.

It also makes me think of never seeing her again.

Shit, I will have to talk to her. Sooner or later. She deserves that much.

There's another reason, too, one that punches me square in the guts. If Knox gets my note and decides to help, how the fuck can he if he doesn't know where to reach me? Not knowing where we're going, I’d asked Knox to send his response to the lodge. Just wrote it down, barely even thinking, along with my new burner number. But my options are a lot more limited with any phone.

If he can't call, or I can't answer, and he sends a letter to the goddamn lodge and I'm not there – kill me.

I suppress the urge to smash my fist through the wall. I can't scare the boys.

This fucking mess I’m in just gets harder and harder. Every little move I make increases the risk of slipping up, somehow leading the Syndicate to me. To us.

Running, being on the lam, is hell.

But I keep doing it.

Running.

Now, I’m not only feeling the Syndicate, I’m running from Tabby, and she sure as hell doesn’t deserve it.

Fuck this.

Grabbing a box off a shelf, I toss it into the cart, and head for checkout.

Less than five minutes later, once again buckled in their car seats, the boys look at each other and sigh.

“Where are we going now?” Chase already sounds like he doesn't want to hear my answer.

I’ve already put her in danger. Too much danger. But she deserves an explanation. And maybe if I get down and beg, she'll help us, help me, one last time.

I start the truck. “Home.”

* * *

The afternoon sun hides behind the gray clouds moving in and huge wet snowflakes fall as I pull the truck into the lodge's parking. Winter's back like the bitch it is.

This may be the second biggest mistake of my life, but I hope not.

Hope like hell it’s not.

I need Tabby to get myself out of this mess as much as I need Knox. And I want her. Want her as bad as I did last night. More now that I’ve had a taste of how incredible she is. I’ll just have to play it cool. Not let her know how much I need her.

In more ways than one.

The boys climb out at the same time I do. Amazing how they barely need help getting out this time. The smiles on their faces explain why. They’re home. At least, that’s how it feels to them. I wish it was true, for all our sakes.

I’d risked a lot in order to keep my sons, and would do it all over again. No question. Even without knowing how it'll all turn out.

Each carries a bag containing their box of cupcakes, they run for the front door of the lodge. I catch up with them by the steps. “Slow down.”

Sad grimaces flash on their faces.

“Stomp the snow off your boots,” I tell them while opening the door. “Be courteous.”

Morris is at the front desk, glaring while we walk through the doorway. “I thought you’d left.” It's not even a question in his tone.

“We had to go shopping,” Adam says, holding up his bag.

Despite his grumpiness, the boys had taken a liking to Morris and weren’t affected by his glare or sharp words.

He appeared even more disgusted while saying, “Tabby told me that.”

Confused, I ask, “She told you we went shopping?”

He eyes me up and down before nodding. “Right after I said you’d ran out on her. Told her you'd left her high and dry.”

I have no idea why she’d have told him that, bucked the obvious truth, and though I know she’d asked me not to, I nod towards his office. “Can we talk?”

He shakes his head, but walks into his office.

“Wait right here,” I tell the boys, pointing towards the bench along the wall.

They climb onto the bench, and I warn, “Don’t move.” Then I enter the office, closing the door.

Not giving Morris a chance to start in, I say, “Look, I’m not going to apologize for what happened between us. We slept together. I’m not sorry. I can’t even say it was a mistake. It wasn’t. It was something we both wanted.”

He's dead silent, but he's listening. “I will say I don’t know where it's going, whatever it is. It’s too soon for that. I’m a single dad, and though I love my sons, they could be considered as baggage to some. To me, they're baggage I'll proudly, gladly carry for the rest of my life. Think Tabby understands that, but I believe it’s only fair she also understands what it means. She deserves a chance to think this over, without anybody else adding their two red cents.”

Morris’ expression hasn't changed in any shape or form. He’s still scowling.

I ignore the desire to huff out a sigh. Tabby definitely comes by her grit naturally. “You and I have an agreement. I want to finish the stable. I still want to uphold my end of the agreement and hope you will yours.”

“I told you in the beginning, my granddaughter wasn’t part of that agreement,” he barks. “Consider it void! You left your keys here. You checked out. You're done, bucko.”

I grit my teeth. He hadn't exactly warned me and I hadn't really checked out with anyone at the front desk, but I can't deny what's written between the lines. “I didn't terminate the job, Morris. We signed a contract, remember? Right here in this office with the terms of my pay. As for the rest, I hope you’ll let Tabby and I work it out.”

He slumps back in his chair and crosses his arms, looking like the world's maddest toad. “Welp, it doesn’t matter much what the hell I say, you’re gonna do whatever you want, just like everyone else around here.” Waving a hand, he says, “Get out. I've got work to do, and so do you.”

I nod, taking what little I can get from winning this little battle. I leave the office.

“Can we go see Tabby now?” Chase asks.

“She’s at her house,” Adam says excitedly.

“How do you know that?”

“Marcy told us!” they say together.

My own excitement at seeing Cupcake is close to theirs. Hell, stronger, but I hide it well. “Let’s go.”

They run down the hall. I’m on their heels as we cross the property, open the door so they can shoot out. They fly around the back toward her place, leaving me several steps behind.

“Tabby, Tabby!” they shout.

She’s shoveling the walkway in front of her cabin. It’s too far to see if she’s smiling, but that doesn’t change my reaction. The heat of anticipation hits my blood. Hasn't even been a full day, but I’ve missed her in ways I've never missed anyone.

The boys run towards her. I take my sweet time. The sight of her bending down to greet them, hug them, pecking two quick kisses at their cheeks, warms me to my soul.

She stands up and a second later. Something unexpected flies my way. A snowball.

I duck, then have to swivel the other way as a second flies towards me. I'm laughing, shaking my head, until I see her face. She’s pissed.

Royally, undeniably pissed.

In the time it takes me to figure that out, she hurls another snowball. This time, I don't dodge quick enough, and it pelts the side of my face.

I grab a handful of snow and pack it tight. The boys have joined in the fun. All three of them throw snowballs my way. Theirs don’t make it all the way to me, but hers zing past my head like bullets.

The fight is on. I zig-zag, avoiding snowballs while firing back. She’s using a tree as a shield, blocking my ammo. Hers are well-aimed. I get hit several times in my face, working my way to the tree. Who the hell knew the woman was a sniper, too?

Once I'm close enough to grab her, I pitch my last snowball and then dive around the tree while she’s not looking.

She squeals as I catch her around the hips, dragging her to the ground, flipping her onto her back. I crawl on top of her, pinning her legs down with mine, her arms with both hands.

Her cheeks are red, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pinched tight. Even spitting mad, she's adorable. Her beauty radiates straight to my blood, and fuck, I want my mouth on hers.

I lean down, fully prepared to taste the sweetness I never thought I'd have again.

But her snarl sends a shiver down my spine, as do her words.

“Get off. I swear to God I'll bite those lips if they touch mine.”