Hiding Out In The Mountains, page 1
Hiding Out In The Mountains
Greene Mountain Boys
Olivia T. Turner
Copyright© 2023 by Olivia T. Turner.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including emailing, photocopying, printing, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. For permission requests, email Olivia@oliviatturner.com
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, businesses, companies, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Edited by Karen Collins Editing
Cover Design by Olivia T. Turner
About
She’s the ultimate temptation.
One that I can’t touch yet one that I can’t resist.
Her father was my best friend in the Navy SEALs.
He gave his life for mine.
And how do I repay him?
By lusting after his only daughter.
The last time I saw her she was a kid.
But she shows up on my doorstep in trouble and she’s all grown up.
All grown up and irresistible.
But she’s off-limits for an old grizzled mountain man like me.
I owe it to her father to keep my hands to myself.
But I want her.
So badly I can’t think straight.
I’ll let her hide out in my secluded mountain home.
I’ll protect her from the bad men chasing her down.
But who is going to protect her from me and my dark desires?
A hot age-gap romance set in the mountains with a hulking Mountain Man ex-Navy SEAL who instantly falls for the angel knocking at his door. May December insta-love at its finest in a SAFE read with no cheating and a super sweet HEA guaranteed. Enjoy!
To my mystical muse who helps me come up with all these stories.
He’s hot as fuck and his dick is enormous.
Contents
Copyright
About
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Epilogue
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Chapter One
Ruby
Does it ever fucking end?
That’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately. I ask it again when I walk into my sketchy apartment building and see the handwritten Out of Order sign taped to the elevator.
It’s one in the morning and I’ve been working since five AM. I don’t have the energy to walk up seven flights of stairs right now. I don’t even have the energy to wash my face.
I take a deep breath and head to the stairwell. This building is in one of the worst areas of Seattle and it’s full of people you don’t want to run into in a stairwell at one o’clock in the morning. I don’t have much of a choice though, so I suck it up and head inside.
So far, so good. There’s tons of graffiti on the wall, broken beer bottles everywhere, and cigarette butts shamelessly tossed about, but no people. I quickly work my way up the stairs.
My feet are killing. Every day starts at five AM at the diner where I seat people and answer the phones. After my eight-hour shift, I race home to work on my custom sticker shop that I’ve been struggling to get off the ground. It took me three years to scrounge together six thousand dollars for the equipment to make custom stickers that people order from my online shop. I put together the orders—if I have any—and then race to the post office to deliver them before it closes. From there, I head to the Chinese restaurant where I work as a delivery girl.
The days are long but the years are… also long. I’ve been working all kinds of crappy jobs since I was sixteen years old. I’m twenty-two now and I’m hoping this sticker business is my way out.
I’m determined to make it work. I busted my ass for years to buy a high-end printer and an expensive cutting machine to give my customers the very best stickers I can make. For the first time in a long time, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
My business might work out.
Does it ever fucking end?
Maybe… Maybe soon.
I breathe in a little sigh of relief when I arrive on the seventh floor. I didn’t run into any of the future convicts who live in my building along the way, so I’m counting that as a win.
This is a rough neighborhood and I’m always looking over my shoulders, fearing for my safety. It doesn’t help that I’m alone in life. No family, no friends besides the acquaintances I have at work, and definitely no boyfriend. It’s my job to keep myself safe. No one else’s. It would be nice to have someone looking out for me for a change, but that’s not the hand I was dealt.
I crack the door to the main hallway and listen for voices with my key sticking out of my fist like that’s going to do a damn thing to anyone out there. A baby is crying from one of the apartments and there’s some loud bass vibrating through the walls, but no one seems to be in the hallway.
God, I hate it here.
One day, when my sticker business takes off, I’m going to move to a place where I don’t have to fear for my life every time I take the garbage out.
But that day is not today, so I push the door open and hurry down the hallway to my apartment. I glance over my shoulder as I go. There’s a new graffiti symbol tagged on the wall and someone ripped up a portion of the carpet. Lovely.
My heart slows as I arrive at my door. But just as I’m about to shove my key into the lock, a door at the end of the hall bursts open.
I jump up and gasp as a frantic man with a shaved head and wide bulging eyes explodes out of it. He runs down the hall like he’s just seen a monster. He’s tall and lanky, wearing baggy jeans and a dirty undershirt. His lean muscles are clenched tight over his pale sweaty skin.
He doesn’t even notice that I’m standing here as he sprints by me.
“No!” he screams as he looks back in horror at the open door.
The monster emerges.
Crenshaw.
I don’t know what he does for a living, but I’m sure it involves a lot of meth, guns, and dead bodies. He’s wearing a black suit—no tie—and a white shirt in a style that can only be described as drug dealer chic. He lowers his head, peering forward over his dark sunglasses. His greasy hair is slicked back and he hasn’t shaven in days.
Gun! Holy shit, he has a gun!
I flatten myself against the door as he stalks forward and raises the pistol in his hand. Those dark sinister eyes are glaring at the fleeing man.
A loud POP rockets through my brain and makes my heart nearly leap out of my chest. The fleeing man falls forward as a ringing hits my ears. He slams into the ground face-first, making no effort to break his fall.
That’s when I see a small coin-sized hole in the back of his head spurting out blood.
I gasp as I turn back to the man who pulled the trigger.
Two more guys rush out and run past Crenshaw. One has a large Ziplock bag in his hand.
I feel like I’ve stepped out of my body as I watch them run up to the dead man and wrap the plastic bag around his head. It fills with blood immediately.
“Grab his legs,” one of them barks at the other.
They drag him back down the hallway and disappear into the apartment. It’s over as quickly as it started. There’s barely a drop of blood on the ground.
A girl joins Crenshaw in the hallway. She’s about my age with tight shredded-up jeans and a black shirt. She reeks of trauma and bad decisions.
I suck in a sharp breath when I realize they’re both looking at me.
Crenshaw is terrifying. I was warned about staying away from him from a nice older lady in the apartment building when I moved in and now I can see why.
Those cold heartless eyes are locked on me. He’s a psychopath. A killer. My body vibrates with alarm bells as our eyes meet.
An overwhelming sense of dread hits me like I’m a baby deer who’s suddenly been spotted by a large hungry wolf.
But some things in the world are worse than wolves, and Crenshaw is one of them. He’s a demon in human flesh.
He takes off his sunglasses and holds them over his shoulder. His girlfriend takes them without a word and he starts stalking toward me.
Oh shit!
My heart races and my mouth goes bone dry as I whip around and fumble with my key. He starts running toward me as I finally shove it into the door, yank it to the side, and turn the handle. I dart inside, slam the door closed, and lock it just as he arrives.
The banging starts immediately.
“Open up!” he hollers in a deep voice that makes the tiny hairs on my arms rise. “Open the fucking door!”
“No, thank you!” I shout back.
The banging gets louder. Harder.
He’s kicking the door down!
I clutch my purse and run through my tiny apartment to the back door. I unlock it, whip it open,
I pass some thugs hanging out on their balconies on the way down, but I just keep running past them, even as they holler after me.
My heart is racing and my lungs are on fire when I finally get to the second floor. The ladder is pulled up and I have to jump down a few feet, but I land on the concrete without hurting myself.
I’m dizzy with fear and my heart is thrashing in my ears when I look up at the seventh floor.
Crenshaw bursts onto my balcony and looks right at me.
Our eyes meet over the vast distance. His narrow. Mine widen.
“Stay right there!” he shouts in a gravelly voice.
He turns around and sprints back into my apartment.
Yeah, fuuuuccck that!
I squeeze my keys in my hand and run as fast as I can to my car. It’s on the other side of the building, but it’s still much closer than the distance Crenshaw has to go.
“Please, please, please, please,” I whisper over and over as I run to it. Sometimes it can take a while to get it started. I’m really hoping this is not one of those times.
I unlock the door, hop in, and turn the key in the ignition as I stare at the front door, expecting the devil to burst out at any moment. The engine starts on the first try and I peel out of the parking lot as fast as I can.
I spot Crenshaw exploding out of the building as I pull onto the street, but I hit the gas and disappear into the guts of the city before he can get to his car and follow me.
When I’m far enough across town that I’m sure he’s not on my tail, I pull over and struggle to get my breathing and heart rate under control. It takes a while, but I finally settle down.
The hopeless reality of my situation hits me hard and I drop my head onto the steering wheel, wanting to cry.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
He’s probably ransacking my apartment. He’s probably sitting on my couch, waiting for me to return. I’m so fucked.
Sooooo fucked.
I start really missing my dad. Warm tears flow out. They stream down my steering wheel and onto my lap as I break down in sobs.
He was the toughest guy I know. He was a decorated Navy SEAL before he got killed in action when I was only sixteen.
If he was still alive, I’d run to him and he would take care of me. He would have taken care of everything.
But he’s gone now and I have no one left to look out for me.
Not true…
It’s a little voice in the back of my head. An optimistic tone peeking out of the darkness.
You can always run to Jack.
I take a breath and raise my head at the memory of my dad’s best friend. I can still remember exactly how he looked in his uniform at my dad’s funeral.
“You can always count on me, Ruby,” he whispered as he took my hand and gazed into my eyes. “I’ll always be here for you.”
He’s all the way in Montana. The Greene Mountains if I recall correctly from the back of the Christmas card he sent me three years ago.
He might not even be there anymore.
He’s probably forgotten all about me.
“No,” I whisper as I look at my eyes in the rearview mirror. “There’s no one to run to. You’re on your own. You’ll get through this like you get through everything. Dad’s death. Mom’s suicide. If you can get through that, then you can get through this.”
I take a deep breath, drive around for a while, and then park behind a Costco and sleep in my backseat.
The next morning, I park across the street from my apartment building and scope it out. I already called in sick to the diner even though I can’t afford to, but what else can I do? My uniform is upstairs.
I don’t know what I’m hoping to see, but I’ll know it when I see it. Crenshaw, the two guys from last night who dragged the body back into the apartment, and two other guys come strutting out of the building around noon. I lower my head and peek over the steering wheel as I watch them get into a car and drive away.
When I’m sure they’re gone, I quickly drive over and run into the building. I have to get my stuff.
I manage to not be noticed by anyone as I run up the stairs and down the hallway, but just as I get to my door, Crenshaw’s girlfriend walks out of their place.
“Oh fuck!” I gasp when she sees me.
She comes rushing over.
“Get away from me!” I shout as I raise my fists and stare her down. “I’ll crack you right in the nose, bitch!”
She shakes her head, looking panicked. “What are you doing here? You have to get out of here. He’s looking for you!”
I lower my fists when it’s clear she’s not looking for a fight.
“What’s going to happen if he finds me?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer to that.
“He’s going to do the same thing to you that he did to that guy last night.”
“He’s going to kill me?”
I swallow hard as she nods. “He’s psychotic. You have to leave. They went out for breakfast, so you got about an hour.”
“Where I’m supposed to go? I live here!”
“Not anymore.”
This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. My hands are shaking as I stare at her in disbelief.
“Is there any place you can go?”
Jack’s warm smile pops into my head.
“Anywhere?”
My mouth opens. “Maybe… uh…”
“Then go there,” she says as she grabs my shoulders, turns me around, and shoves me. “Now!”
“I just need to grab some… stuff.” My stomach sinks when I see my door. Crenshaw kicked it in. The door is open a crack and the doorframe is a mess of splinters and broken shards of wood.
“No,” I whisper as I push it in and walk inside.
My apartment is in tatters. It’s been ransacked. Everything is gone.
“No!” I gasp when I remember my expensive sticker equipment. I run into my spare room and my stomach drops when I see that everything is gone. Everything.
I walk around feeling dead inside as I see the life I’ve built—meager as it was—in shambles. They took it all. They even took my shower curtain. My plant. Even my fridge is gone.
“Crenshaw kicked the door in,” the girl says with an apologetic look on her face. “I tried to close the door for you after, but it was all busted up. Half the building took turns robbing you. It was a free-for-all.”
“I hate this building.”
“You’re really going to hate it if you’re still here when Crenshaw returns. It’s time to go.”
I grab a plastic bag off the floor that everyone so generously left me and head over to my bedroom. My dresser is gone but there are a few dirty clothes in my hamper that haven’t been touched. I stuff them all into the bag and then hurry into the bathroom. They even took my toothbrush holder. Freaking animals!
I take whatever is left—some deodorant, soap, and a few other things.
I walk back into the main room and spot the photo of my parents on the wall. It’s the only one I have.
My heart breaks as I take it off the wall and look at their smiling faces. I’m about two years old in the photo. My father is looking so handsome in his military uniform as he holds me in his muscular arms. What I wouldn’t give to feel as safe in his arms right now as I did back then.
The last thing I take is the Christmas card that Jack sent me three years ago. It’s in the bottom drawer in the kitchen. It was under the placemats but those are now gone. I take the card and the envelope with his address on the back.
34 Silvergray Mountain, Greene Mountains, Montana.
