Page 20 of Knot His Beast
Getting back into the truck, I pull off the ski mask and gloves and put on a little cologne before popping into the bakery for bagels and donuts for the family. I’ll sneak in, drop off the food, and take a shower.
I look completely normal, there’s no blood on my skin or clothing that can be seen, now I just have to convince my father of the same.
I stayed out later than I expected, and he’ll definitely be up by now.
Parking my truck in front of the house, I grab the boxes of pastries and get out. My special tools are hidden in a compartment in the bed of my truck only I have the key to.
“I’m not sure whether to ask if this is good morning or good night for you,” Dad says.
Oh boy.
Raising my brow as I turn toward him, I say, “Guess it’s both. I went by the bakery as penance for staying out. Does that help?”
“You’re a grown man. You don’t need to answer to me, but I do have questions. Did you see the cloud of smoke on your way home?” Dad asks.
“Not where I was coming from,” I reply honestly. “Did some idiot leave his campfire burning?”
It wouldn’t be the first time, though I know damn well that’s not the origin of the fire.
“Nope,” Dad growls as the screen door opens.
“Donuts!” Laura yells, fist pumping the air as her blonde hair streams behind her.
“Bagels too,” I say, handing over my haul to her.
“Best brother ever,” she says, grinning as she runs back inside like the chaotic gremlin she is.
“Did you do something?” Dad asks quietly.
“Wouldn’t tell you if I did,” I grunt. “We won’t be having any more problems though.”
“Goddamit,” he sighs. “I told you not to worry about it.”
“I didn’t worry, because that implies not being able to do anything about it,” I say with a shrug. “This is my family, my ranch, my business. It’s that simple.”
“Fuck,” Dad says under his breath as I begin walking up the stairs. “Your mom was a fighter like you. She’d be proud of you. It’s why she never scolded you for locking horns with the boys at school.”
My lips curl into a smile as I think about my mother.
“I’m like you too,” I say, looking over my shoulder. “I learned to play the long game.”
His eyes widen slightly before he nods and follows me onto the porch.
“Don’t you have chores or something to do?” I ask in surprise as I pull open the front door.
“Not before I get a fucking bagel first,” Dad says with a grin. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all sir,” I say.
Just like that, I know I’m in the clear. He’s not going to judge me for doing what I had to do.
CHAPTER 6
Octavian
23 years old
Viking Murderer SetFree
