Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 1261

“We’re just a bunch of hunters,” the man said.

“Poachers?” Tarquin raised an eyebrow.

“Y-yeah. That’s right.”

“When did you come up the mountain? And how’d you find this place?”

“We’ve been in the woods for a while, but only stumbled on this place last night. Honestly, it was pure luck—we were tracking a deer, and it led us right here.

Once we realized there was food, water, and even some decent beds with warm blankets, we figured we’d found the perfect base camp.”

Tarquin pressed, “Who was staying here before you?”

“No idea. We haven’t seen the owners since we arrived—no sign of anyone.”

“Do you have any clue who they are?”

“Looks like a family, probably. There are too many rooms for just one person. And inside, we found old folks’ sweaters, kids’ sneakers, and a bunch of men’s hoodies and jeans. Our boss reckons it’s three generations living together.

He thinks they’re dirt poor—couldn’t handle life in town, couldn’t afford a house, so they moved out here to live off the grid.”

Tarquin and the kids exchanged skeptical glances. How does someone with that kind of logic end up as the boss?

A desperately poor family, surviving out here in the wild like it’s nothing? But at least their guess was way off. That meant they had no clue who really lived here—and that was good news for the elderly folks who just wanted to keep to themselves.

Tarquin continued, “Any idea where the family went?”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t look for them?”

“We checked around nearby, but saw nothing suspicious. The boss said not to waste time on them—just some broke nobodies. If they come back, he says we should just take them out.”

“How many of you are there?” Tarquin asked.

Tarquin calmly slipped his watch back on. He tossed the handgun over to the man. “Get out.”

The guy hesitated for a split second, then snatched up the gun—ready to try his luck. But before he could even raise it, Tarquin’s hand was around his throat, squeezing. The man gasped, struggling for air, unable to pull the trigger. If Tarquin squeezed any harder, he’d be dead.

“Try anything again, and you won’t get a third chance,” Tarquin growled in a low, cold voice.

He only let go when the man was turning blue. The poacher slid to the floor, clutching his throat, staring up at Tarquin in raw terror. He finally understood who he was messing with.

Tarquin stood over him, voice icy. “When you walk out of here, act like none of this ever happened. Keep your head down, and you might just get out alive.”

The man didn’t believe Tarquin could make much trouble—but he was scared out of his mind. After all, Tarquin had just dragged him to the edge of death. Twice.

“Y-yeah, I won’t say a word. Not a thing happened here. I swear.”

With that, the guy staggered to his feet, clutching the gun, and bolted out the door—terrified that if he waited even another second, Tarquin would finish the job.