Cabin Fever - Roe Horvat

Acknowledgments

Tanja, you did most amazing work with this story while staying incredibly supportive of me. Thank you from my heart. Ann, I am grateful for your help and dedication, and for protecting my dignity. Alex, thank you for reading and yelling. You keep me motivated.

Thank you, my self-publishing friends, for your never-ending kindness and support. I would never be able to make it without you!

I owe my deepest gratitude to every kind, generous person who invest their energy into reading the drafts and advanced review copies, and who listen to my whines with endless patience. Each and every one of you who reads, writes, publishes, promotes, and supports LGBTQ+ stories, thank you!

Someone’s trying to kill me, but my new bodyguard is hot

Michael

The first time I saw Vincent Nowak, I was half-hard in my jeans for the entire meeting.

My uncle said Vincent had Colombian and Eastern European heritage. Well, damn, those were some excellent genes.

He was a mountain. He towered over my uncle, shoulders as wide as I was tall, and the muscles of a bull. The tight long-sleeved black shirt he wore clung to his torso. He wasn’t sculpted like a bodybuilder. Nope. Those were real muscles, grown for purpose, not for show. Vincent was a fucking gladiator.

His skin was tanned, his face weather-beaten, his short black hair had gray streaks in it, and his stubble looked like a luxury carpet. His hands were gorgeous, big, broad, and coarse, with thick fingers that would work magic shoved up my ass.

I quickly examined the bulge in his trousers. Hello, delicious! Yep. Like a bull.

So, when my uncle told me that this was the wild card he had pulled to save my life, after the last attempt to take me out, I went from annoyed to delighted in a second. I could spend a few days at an “undisclosed location” with Vincent Nowak, no problem. The jerk-off sessions would be epic.

Watching Vincent shake hands with my uncle, I grinned, scanning my new bodyguard with a dirty sense of ownership. Oh yeah, save me, Daddy. Tie me to your bed and protect me.

I was thrilled and turned the fuck on. Up until the moment Vincent looked at me as if I was something that got stuck to his shoe.

“Vincent, this is Michael.”

Well trained in my manners, at least in Uncle Bart’s presence, I stood from the leather couch and offered my hand. Vincent shook it, squeezing hard, but quickly, as if he couldn’t wait to drop it. He looked away immediately.

“Hello, Michael.” He didn’t meet my eyes, but stared out the window.

“Nice to meet you, Vincent.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. It seemed like Vincent wasn’t a fan. Obviously, he’d formed his opinion of me already. I couldn’t really blame him. I’d been all over the country’s tabloids for years—trashed hotel rooms, totaled cars, naked dancing in public spaces, and of course, men. My uncle had surely briefed him, so Vincent might even have some more detailed info about my indecent behavior. My public image was a cliché, spoiled rich kid, and sometimes, I played it up, just because it was easy.

Taking advantage of the fact that Vincent was looking away from me, I checked out his ass and hummed.

Uncle Bart flashed me a warning look and cleared his throat.

“I am relieved you accepted my offer,” my uncle said. “Like I told you, we’re running out of options. And with the apparent security breach among staff, taking Michael out of the equation for a few weeks is the best solution. Agent Madsen offered official protection, which Michael refused.” My uncle shot me another look, and I rolled my eyes. No way was I hibernating in a shabby two-bedroom in Nowhereville for weeks, with two pot-bellied, burned-out ex-cops on my ass. I’d rather let the killer shoot me.

“Private protection of the kind I can offer is probably safer than what the FBI provides,” Vincent said. And holy hell, his voice. “Considering the nature of the security breach you seem to be facing, it’s best to protect the client in a less robust, flexible way. I’ve set up a solution that minimizes the risk of another breach to almost zero. That way, we give law enforcement the time they need.”

I smirked triumphantly. I’d been right in refusing the FBI babysitting.

“Even though it could be more strenuous for the client,” Vincent added coldly, still facing my uncle.

My grin fell.

“I’d appreciate it if you spoke to me directly when I am in the room.” It was infuriating to

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