I was six months retired now, thirty-four fucking years old, had more dirty money than I’d be able to spend in a dozen lifetimes, and most days I still wasn’t sure I’d survived.
Hell, most days I still wasn’t sure I evenwantedto.
But tonight, for right now, I was still breathing.
Had to count for something.
I poured myself a double and raised the glass in front of me, eyeing the amber liquid in the light. Looked and smelled like good shit, despite its age and questionable origins.
“Feliz Navidad, Kiko. Wherever the fuckyouare.”
The whiskey burned all the way down, lighting a fire in my belly that quickly spread to my limbs. I poured another shot, grabbed the glass and the bottle, and reclaimed my well-worn seat on the couch.
The snow was piling up like a bitch outside, banking against the first-floor windows and wrapping the evergreens in thick, white blankets. Normally, my wolf loved running in the snow, but this shit was too brutal, even for me. Had to be about twenty below out there, and the howl of the wind was so lonely it made my chest ache.
But fuck it, right? I was warm inside, the timber-framed log home blocking out all the cold, fire roaring in the stone hearth beside me, fridge and pantry stocked from a recent supply run, no one around for miles.
What did I have to bitch about, really?
Considering that the pinnacle of last year’s yuletide festivities had involved storming a tulip warehouse in Holland and gunning down a bunch of ecstasy dealers at the behest of the CIA, this year’s Christmas Eve was already a stellar improvement, Holiday Harvest aside.
It was my first Christmas alone, and that’s just how I liked it now. No dick-measuring, black ops mercenaries. No hiding my wolf when all I wanted to do was shift and hunt, to satiate this wild hunger without some military scientist sticking needles up my ass. No gunfire. No creeping through the shadows in seventy-five pounds of tactical gear, trying to decipher who was the good guy, who was the monster, what the fuck side I was supposed to be on. Just me and my girl, Bella, the only living soul I still gave a fuck about.
“Bella! Come here, baby.”
The eighty-pound, black-and-tan German Shepherd tumbled down the stairs, tail wagging, tongue flapping as she leapt up next to me on the couch and shoved her snout straight into my armpit.
I set my whiskey on the end table and scratched behind her ears, nuzzling her face. “What kind of trouble are you getting into up there, huh?”
She whimpered, then sighed, dropping her head onto my thigh.
Translation: guilty as fuck.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I said. “Stay out of my closet.”
She’d already chewed through my favorite hiking boots, half dozen pairs of socks, and an old, unopened box of condoms left by cabin’s previous owner which had resulted in a trip to the vet and a procedure the dog would likely never forget.
But no matter how much trouble she caused, I still loved her crazy ass. I’d found her soon after I bought this place last summer, tortured and emaciated, left for dead in the woods out back. She’d beenthisclose to becoming dinner for a mountain lion, but my wolf chased the beast off. I shifted back and carried her to my truck, got her checked out in town. She had no tags, no license, no chip, which was probably a good thing. If I ever found the motherfuckers who’d done that to her, I’d make damn sure the neighborhood mountain lions hadplentyto eat then.
People were real assholes. Best to stay the fuck away from them.
If only I could get away from myself.
I blew out a dark sigh. Until I figured outthatlittle fucking secret to a happy life, I’d have to settle for the next best thing: drinking myself into a stupor, jerking off, and passing out, in no particular order.
I clicked the television back on and scrolled through the satellite channels. A few more sips of that whiskey, and even the Hallmark channel was starting to look good again. They were showing another bullshit it’s-a-God-damn-Christmas-miracle, ain’t-our-family-swell kind of movies, but the chick playing the mom was hot as hell.
“Hello, MILF,” I said, turning up the volume and kicking back on the sofa. I let out a huge belch, and Bella jerked up her head and barked at me, taking off upstairs again.
Eh, no accounting for taste.
I didn’t know what the fuck was in Kiko’s magic booze, but by the third pour, my entire body was buzzing and relaxed, my head swimming pleasantly as the movie droned on. The mom was getting hotter by the minute—possibly an effect of the booze, but by then, I was all outta fucks to give.
Feeling primed up again, I slid my hand down the front of my pants and palmed my cock. This time, the bastard jumped to life in an instant, hot, stiff, and ready to rock.
That’s fucking more like it, asshole.
I muted the TV, closed my eyes, and leaned my head back, calling up another image of my fantasy girl, flat on her back for some sixty-nine action, my tongue spearing her pussy as I fucked that hot, wet mouth.
