I claimed him the second I saw him. Macon. The sweet, blond, lanky limbed nineteen-year-old who serves me espresso ice cream with chocolate hearts in it at the ice cream parlor. Sweet, innocent Macon. His eyes roaming over my bulging muscles and tattoos like he's about to melt into a puddle, looking me up and down as he stumbles over his words while taking my order. Macon doesn't know it yet, but he's mine. My angel. My boy. My everything. Macon needs me in his life. To hold him. To protect him. To give him his favorite unicorn stuffy while he sleeps. To put a bullet in his good-for-nothing ex's skull. I'm a savage killer in the Russian mob. But I don't care. Macon needs a Daddy... And that Daddy is going to be me.