Page 16 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

“Enya?”

She sputters with laughter, her fierceness dropping for an instant before she puts it right back into place.Then she says, “No.First nameNunya.Last nameBusiness.”

I inwardly groan.As Jamie MacLaine’s son, I’ve learned to spot an incoming Dad joke from miles off.But she caught me off guard.Fine.“Why are you here?What do you want?”

“Again, that’s none of your business.Get off my land.”

She says this with utter confidence, so much confidence that I have to acknowledge that she trulybelievesshe owns a part of Yosemite Ranch.I need to understand why she’d think that and then let her down easy.Because she sure as hell doesn’t have a rightful claim to this property.

“This isn’t your land,” I tell her.“Is that your cat?”

She laughs again, glancing down at the miniature panther.“Who else’s cat would it be?This isn’t exactly the suburbs.It’s not like I’m surrounded by in-ground pools and kids and moms and cats and dogs.”

“Your cat won’t survive in this wilderness.It was reckless to bring a pet to these mountains.”

She clutches it tighter to her chest, tucking its head under her chin.The look on her face is rage mixed with a deep, dark pain.It nearly knocks me over.

“Get the fuck away from me,” she says.

“At least take the coat and boots.”

“Absolutely not.”

She’s as stubborn as a MacLaine.And we stand there like this, just looking at each other, and it’s everything I can do not to back her inside the cabin, push her onto the sleeping bag, and drop to my knees so that I can worship her.

Every fucking inch of her.Properly and thoroughly.

I drop the coat and boots at her feet and turn to go.“I’ll be back later today,” I say, snatching DG’s reins, mounting, and heading back the way I came.

“No!”she yells after me.“Stay away from me!”

“Can’t do that,” I reply, not turning around.

That’s a true statement—I’m incapable of staying away from her.Even as I turn to go, I’m planning what I’ll bring with me when I return.

I’ve got some errands to run.In my head, I’m already making a list.

CHAPTER 8

Frankie

I smear marshmallow Fluff over a slice of low-carb whole-wheat bread, aware of how ridiculous the combination is.I chose the bread for its health benefits.I chose the Fluff because I was having a panic attack in the Walmart aisle and thought I was grabbing a jar of natural peanut butter.

But there’s one thing I’m proud of myself for.I just hiked down the hill to where I hid the Toyota and brought back the handgun and ammo, along with a treasure trove of other crap I found—a lighter, two packets of crackers, and several plastic utensil and napkin sleeves from fast food runs.I left the body glitter, wig, and thongs where they were.

Then I threw handfuls of dirt back onto the white roof of my bright blue Toyota FJ Cruiser 4x4.Next, I once again covered the whole exterior with pine branches and dead leaves to keep it camouflaged—just in case.

I have no idea what lengths Niko will go to in his effort to hunt me down, or what tools are at his disposal.Drones wouldn’t be out of the question.Or planes.He’s so rich he could hire his own Ninja squad to find me if he wanted to.

But holy hell I hope he didn’t put a tracker on my SUV—or anything else of mine.But in truth, I have no idea.

I slather on a second coat of Fluff and bite into my delicious lunch.

“Mrraaaoow,” Pussy tells me.

“What?”I ask her, my mouth full.“Don’t judge.It’s not like I can make a nice quinoa and kale pilaf up here, you know.”

What I’mnotproud of, however, is that I wore MacLaine’s boots and coat to complete my hike.What did he say to me?Don’t be stupid?I hate to admit it, but he’s right.It would’ve been stupid not to.Even though the hiking shoes are about a half size too small for my feet, they sure made the steep down-and-up trek more manageable.And the coat—real shearling and suede—kept me toasty warm.