Mafia Kings: Massimo: Dark Mafia Romance Series #3

We came across half a dozen cabins during our multi-hour hike through the woods.

Three weren’t suitable because people were staying in them, evidenced by the cars and Jeeps parked outside.

Of the other three, one looked uninhabited – but there were a couple more cabins down the road that were inhabited. I didn’t care for nosy neighbors stopping by, so that one was out.

There was another that could have been a good fit, but it was even smaller than my place. I did not relish the idea of spending another night in the same bed as Lucia, so I ruled that one out.

The final option was huge – at least twice as big as my cabin, which probably meant at least two bedrooms. No car, no neighbors, plus the windows were dirty and covered with cobwebs, meaning no one had been there for a while.

There was a small barn out back that was big enough to house a couple of horses, though it looked like it had been empty for years.

One other factor in my decision: the sun had already slipped behind the mountains. It would be another hour before it finally set, but the light was fading fast, and the temperature was falling even more rapidly. I could tell it would be a cold one, even colder than last night.

Which meant we really couldn’t gamble on walking another mile or two.

So it was either this place or the tiny cabin we’d passed half an hour before.

I decided on this one.

“Are you serious?!” Lucia asked disdainfully.

“It’s big enough that there should be a separate bedroom for you,” I said.

“What good is that if we’re staying in a shithole?”

“You want to walk back to that smaller cabin we passed half an hour ago, be my guest.”

“It was just a smaller shithole,” she muttered, but she followed me over to the back door.

I tried the handle. Locked.

I searched for a key in the immediate area but turned up nothing.

The door had a window with four panes, so I took out my Glock and used the butt of the gun to smash the glass closest to the lock. I raked out all the tiny jagged pieces sticking up from the wooden frame, then carefully stuck my hand through and unlatched the lock.

We walked in to find a far more rustic cabin than mine, with none of the upgrades I’d spent tens of thousands of dollars on. All the walls looked rough-hewn, and the furniture had a fine layer of dust over everything.

“Jesus,” Lucia muttered as I set down my backpack, rifle, and the canisters of water. “I didn’t know when I called it a ‘shithole’ that I was being generous.”

I flicked a light switch –

And nothing happened.

“This gets better all the time,” she groaned.

“Hold on,” I said.

I searched in the nearest pantry – which was completely devoid of food – and found the fuse box. But there was a problem.

“Looks like mice might have chewed through the electrical lines,” I said.

“Mice?!” Lucia yelled.

“What, you think a place out in the woods isn’t going to have mice?”

“Yours didn’t!”

“Mine was built up off the ground, and I made sure every nook and cranny was sealed off. This place is different.”

“Yeah, it’s different, all right,” she muttered.

I tried the kitchen water. There was a shrieking brwAAAMP for a second, and then water began coming out of the tap.

“At least there’s water,” I said.

“Freezing cold, too, I’ll bet.”

“Yeah, but at least you don’t have to go in an outhouse in the woods.”

“This is the outhouse in the woods,” she snapped.

The stove was electric, so neither it nor the range worked.

There was no food in the house at all – just plates, glasses, and cutlery.

Since we didn’t have electricity, I didn’t want to waste the charge on my phone – so I looked around for a flashlight. I found one in a kitchen drawer. The batteries were weak, but it gave off enough of a yellowish beam to see the house’s darkened interior.

There were three separate bedrooms – one queen-size and two with double twins. The comforters kicked up a cloud of dust when I slapped them, but the sheets looked clean.

“See? You can have your own bed tonight,” I said.

“Wonderful,” she said sarcastically. “Can we at least start a fire? I’m fucking freezing.”

There had been a stone fireplace in the main room but no wood.

However, there was a canvas carrier folded by the hearth – and an ax and small hatchet lying on top of it.

“Stay here, I’ll go find something,” I said as I took the ax, hatchet, and carrier outdoors.

I headed for the barn first to see if there was any wood stacked inside.

No luck. There were some empty feed bins, a loft, and assorted odds and ends – but no stacked wood.

I thought about chopping off some of the crumbling wood structure but decided I didn’t want to be an asshole. It was bad enough that we were using the property for shelter; no need to destroy it, too.

There wasn’t any wood stacked outside the barn, either – but I still hit the jackpot, in a way.

A small oak behind the barn must have fallen over years ago. The owners had cut it into circular cross-sections with a chainsaw. Now the wood was seasoned and ready for the fireplace.

I just had to chop it first, so I set to work.

I picked the most manageable-looking cross-section, about two feet tall and two feet in diameter.

Then I raised my ax and swung.

THOCK.

I pried it out of the wood, raised it up in the air, and swung again.

THOCK.

Would’ve been easier with a sledgehammer and maul, but beggars can’t be choosers.

And though I could have looked for the chainsaw to see if it was still around, I didn’t bother. I hadn’t seen any sign of it in the house or the barn.

Even if I could find it… and even if there was oil and gas… the ax was fine by me.

I was used to chopping wood like this because I did it at my cabin. Not because I needed to, but because I enjoyed it. The physical activity was a kind of meditation.

Now it helped get my mind off of Lucia and the mess we were in.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

But mostly off of Lucia.

THOCK.

Her ass –

THOCK.

Her going topless with her arm over her chest –

THOCK.

Her huge eyes –

THOCK –

The cylinder split down the middle into two pieces.

Even in the cool air, I was beginning to sweat, so I peeled off my flannel and set it on the nearest cross-section of oak.

When I turned around, Lucia was walking towards me from the house. She was wearing the jacket I’d bought her, which up until now had been in her JanSport.

I was not happy to see her.

“I’ll be done in a few minutes,” I told her.

“Okay,” she said – and still kept coming closer.

“There’s nothing you can do out here.”

“I can watch you. There’s not exactly a whole lot of other entertainment to be had.” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the barn wall. “Don’t let me stop you, mountain man.”

I glowered at her but didn’t say anything.

Then I put one half of the split wood on a bigger cross-section and continued my task.

THOCK.

THOCK.

THOCK.