Dad Bods and Blizzards (Dad Bod Christmas #1)

13. Thirteen

Thirteen

Tubs

I rush into Naomi’s room behind Griz, who darts across the room.

Fuck! Naomi falls through the broken window. My heart stops.

Griz slaps a hand on her leg just in time to stop her from plunging into the darkness.

“Get her home.” He pulls her limp body into the room, checks her pulse, and passes her to me with fear in his eyes. “Make sure she’s okay.”

I cradle her against my chest and fly down the stairs.

“What’s happening?” Naomi comes to and shoves weakly against my chest.

I hold on to her for dear life as we pass Woody, who has Dennis pressed face-first into the wall near the front door. Woody says, “Hurry, before they get here.”

“Who?” she asks.

“I’ll explain everything once you’re safe.” I set her in the passenger side of the truck and buckle her in. Hesitating, I kiss her cheek. “Please trust me.”

Closing the door, I rush to the driver’s side. She stays put, possibly from disorientation, but it’s enough for me to get her out of here.

With one hand on the steering wheel, I use the other to wipe a trickle of blood from Naomi’s hairline. It’s already clotting. “Do you need a hospital?”

“Where are you taking me?”

I pull out, frantic to get her off the scene before the raid team shows up. “To our place. You’ll be safe there. Unless you need a doctor. How badly are you hurt?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracks. She grips her shoulder.

“I can have a doctor meet us.”

She waves me off then rubs her forehead. “I can’t think. I need quiet.”

We’re only a block from her house when I spot the raid team—three black government-issue SUVs. She notices them and stiffens.

“I need one minute to explain.”

She stares straight ahead but gives a slight nod.

“Those vehicles that just passed us are carrying federal agents.” My voice stays steady, though my heart pounds. “We’re undercover, investigating a weapons trafficking ring. We have evidence against your father…” I swallow hard. “And you, but we don’t believe you knew that you were involved in setting up weapons exchanges. We couldn’t let you get taken in too. I’m so sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner.”

Tears roll down her cheeks.

“I know you probably hate—”

“Shhh.” She holds a single finger up. “I trust you.”

Those three little words break my emotions and fears free. They’re the sweetest sounds ever. I’ll prove to her that it’s the right choice. We make the rest of the drive in silence.

Naomi’s exhausted when we get home. I carry her inside, wrap her in blankets on the couch, start a fire, and bring her a cup of hot cider.

“I need to check for a concussion.”

She sits patiently while I run through a verbal test and then check her pupillary reflex. All good.

I hold her, letting her tears soak my flannel shirt. At least the mountain man dad bod I was required to maintain for the operation gives her plenty of cushion to snuggle against.

After what feels like a sacred eternity existing as just the two of us, she sits up and groans, rubbing her left shoulder and leg.

“You’ve been through a lot. Can I check you for injuries?”

She nods. “Everything on my left side hurts. I hit the truck door when I crashed into the column.”

“You’ll feel it now that the adrenaline’s wearing off.”

I tenderly peel the blanket away and wait for her permission to remove her sweats. She’ll have some light bruising but nothing major. I help her redress then get first aid supplies and clean the small cut on her head.

It could have been so much worse.

My heart rate has almost returned to normal when Woody and Griz return home.

With everyone present and Naomi able to relax, we explain everything, including the last-minute change of plans that the team called the emergency meeting for.

She comes clean on picking our office lock and reading the files. “Oh, shit. I told a friend I was coming over tonight.” She looks around and slumps. “My phone’s at home.”

“Who do you need to call?” I confess that we know all of her friends’ phone numbers and let her make the call from my phone.

We’re surprised that she asks for privacy, but go to our office.

We talk through all of the ways we’re going to protect her during the investigation and that we may face repercussions for interfering. It’s all worth it.

“Can we come out now?” Griz asks through the closed door.

“Not yet.” She sounds nervous.

“We left the truck keys out there.” Woody opens the blinds so we can see the truck in the driveway. “Do you think she trusts us?”

“I don’t think she’ll try to escape.” But do I know that? My heart does.

Griz takes a small box out of the desk drawer and removes the keychain we had made for Naomi. It has our real initials above a nightingale. “Do we have a spare house key in here?”

“There’s one in the closet.” Woody disappears for a second then returns, and I toss the keychain to him.

Thirty minutes have passed when Naomi knocks lightly on the door. “You passed the test. You can come out.”

When Griz opens the door, her smile means everything. “The test?”

Her grin turns sheepish. “That friend I called… her name is Lilia. She married two secret agents.”

We’re familiar with Lilia’s story and how the agents helped her escape the Solonik Bratva.

Naomi continues, “I asked her to have them confirm that you three are the good guys.”

Woody says, “I’m so proud of you for doing that, Nightin—”

She grins. “It’s okay. I figured out that was my codename when I went through your files.”

“It’s more than a codename. It’s my nickname for you. You’re small but powerful and beautiful. You bring joy to everyone around you.”

“My father might disagree.” Her sweet voice saddens.

“That’s on him.” Woody pulls her in for a hug. “When I used Nightingale as your codename, I had no idea we’d be able to get close to you. I hated spying on you. I hated that your father put you near danger. But I knew I could never let anyone hurt you.”

She snuggles into his chest. The relief in her expression allows me to breathe easier. I’m about to join the embrace when Woody creates a few intimate inches of space between them. He takes her small hand and places the keychain in it.

“A nightingale keychain?”

“A while back we had this made for you. Our hope was always to get you away from your father. It was clear to us you were innocent, but we had to play by the rules long enough to get sufficient evidence on him.”

She studies the gift curiously. “What does O.U.R. stand for?”

“Here’s where it gets real.” I point at Griz. “He’s Otto.” Then Woody. “Ulysses. And I’m Ryan. You’re our sweet nightingale who got us through what we thought was going to be the most miserable assignment ever.”

She smiles at the reveal of our real names. “Why was this assignment so miserable?”

Woody explains. “We each had to put on fifty pounds, learn to heat our home with fires, and move to the middle of a forest.”

Her smile fades. “You’re city boys?”

“Not anymore, Princess. We’re your boys.”

Griz coughs. “Boys? Maybe you are, but I’m her man.”

“ Cave man,” I joke, slapping Griz’s belly.

“I happen to like your dad bods, but seriously? What about your jobs? Will you have to leave?”

Griz laughs. “We’ve had a lot of free time on our hands out here in the middle of nowhere so we’ve been learning how to investigate cybercrimes. As long as we have computers, we can stay home. And you can quit your job at the diner.”

“Hold on. This is all still weird to me. But I want to be in control of my life. I even talked to one of the other women in the auction about working for her as a bikini barista. I’m not opposed to working.”

“Can I respectfully veto the idea of you being a bikini barista?” Woody asks.

“I’ll consider your veto.”

“Could we respectfully ask for your help with decorating?” I add.

“Will you teach us the softer sides of life and be our nightingale?” Woody asks.

“I think we can make that work. But one question.”

“Anything.” I might literally do anything for this woman, who, if I’m lucky, is carrying my baby.

She dangles the keychain. “How did you know to get me a keychain?”

Griz takes the lead. “You saw how thick your file was compared to the others.”

She nods.

“A lot of that was for our personal research.”

She clasps the keychain in her hand. “I want to be mad at you for spying on me.”

“But you can’t because you snooped through our stuff too,” I tease. “Can we call it even?”

She grimaces. “As long as you each promise me one thing.”

“Never to snoop or spy again?” I ask eagerly.

“Never to stop giving me those amazing orgasms.”