Chapter 2
Ledger
“Hey, Ledger! Where you at?”
The sound of Wes’s voice grates against my already frayed nerves. I consider not answering. Wes doesn’t need me. If there’s something wrong, he can figure it out on his own.
I’m busy.
With the binoculars pressed against my face, I scan the winding main road leading up to Gnarly Pines Logging Company.
Set up high along the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains in Pennsylvania, my business is angled so I can see over the thickly wooded landscape, down the hill, and nearly into the small town of Caddawalk from almost any angle.
The thick mass of trees that blanket the landscape up here has begun to change color, making the scenery breathtaking.
The sea of colors feels endless. It’ll only get better as September progresses.
But I’m not standing on the front porch of my cabin to take in the beautiful explosion of color as the death of summer nears.
With how many times I’ve searched this road over the course of the week, I’m surprised that I don’t see it in my dreams. Anxiously, I keep watch for some movement.
Any movement at this point. Other than the hourly workers who had just gotten off work and headed home after a long day an hour ago, the road has been empty.
Shifting direction, I use the binoculars to scan the rest of my property.
While I can’t see all two hundred acres, I’ll know if someone or something heads my way.
With the countless trail and infrared motion-sensor cameras all over the property, there’s no place that I’m truly blind.
All the cameras send alerts to my phone.
“Ledger?!” Wes calls out again.
I don’t notice the deep rumble of annoyance in my chest until the vibration of it jars the binoculars against my face.
What the fuck does Wes want?
The beginnings of a headache are starting to form—the subtle throb in my temple is a sure sign I’ve been unconsciously grinding my teeth. Or maybe it’s from the lack of sleep lately. Shit, maybe because I haven’t been eating much. Anxiety is a bitch.
Where are you, Blair?
“Ledger! You out here?”
Unclenching my jaw, I pull the binoculars away from my face and begrudgingly call back, “Yeah, I’m on the north end of the porch.”
The wooden floorboards beneath my booted feet vibrate as a set of heavy footsteps approaches. Just as I turn around and lean my lower back against the wooden railing, Wes comes into view.
My friend huffs when he sees me. His short, thick, dark goatee—speckled with grays—shifts ever so slightly as he presses his mouth into a tight line.
He does this a lot when he’s frustrated with me.
As always, after work, he’s covered in a fine layer of sawdust. The fact that he hasn’t showered or started dinner—which is typical for him after a long day—is telling.
“What’s up?” I ask, working to keep the frustration out of my voice as he comes to a stop before me.
Wes’s eyes narrow as he studies me. Slowly, and with a deep breath, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Everything good?”
“Everything is fuckin’ peachy,” I lie. I even manage to give him a half smile. “Why? Have you started caring about my well-being or something?”
He snorts. “Given that you’re in charge of my checks and you’re getting old, yeah I’m beginning to worry about you, friend. Can’t have you having a heart attack on me—not when I’m still saving for my beach house on a private island.”
Despite the tension gripping my insides in a vice so tight I can hardly breathe, I manage to laugh.
“You’re fucking set for life. You know that, Wes,” I point out.
My friend chuckles darkly. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”
I nod, “Glad to have cleared that up. Now, tell me what’s up?”
“Well,” Wes starts, his tone losing its teasing edge. “You forgot about payroll. At the end of their shift, a few of the guys came up to me asking about it.”
“Oh, fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut, reach up, and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’ll get to—”
“No need,” Wes interrupts calmly. “I went in and took care of it. It should hit everyone’s bank accounts by Monday.”
My hand drops away from my face and I look back at him. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”
“That was no problem,” Wesley assures me.
He pauses before adding, “The real problem is why it happened. You never let things like this slip through your fingers. This past week you’ve been incredibly distracted.
I’ve let it go, but this? It affects business.
Our guys know you’re good for the money.
Since it hasn’t happened before, they weren’t too ruffled, but if this continues it won’t be good for us.
Care to tell me what’s got you so preoccupied? ”
I hesitate.
I need to tell Wes what’s going on, I’ve just been putting it off.
Worrying about Blair’s safety is more imperative than dealing with Wes and his…
Well, I’m not sure what his reaction will be.
Maybe that’s part of the reason I haven’t spoken up yet.
Wes’s a good man. He’s got a dark side, but he’s managed to wrangle it under control.
The thing is, Wes believes the same of me.
I sell the lie well.
Once upon a time, I used to be a good person.
But then a sweet, young, naive woman with an inappropriate crush, pressed her lips against mine, stilling time and altering reality. In that moment, with bullets flying, explosions erupting nearby, and our lives on the line—Blair Shelmore cursed me, turning me into a possessive, hungry beast.
I’ve learned, through painful trial and error, that the only thing that will sate this ravenous hunger is Blair herself. It’s a shame that cannibalism is frowned upon. I’ve yet to figure out another way to consume her soul but I’ll find one soon enough.
What’s crazy is that I didn’t realize the thing that I had become, not at first. In the moment, I’d pulled away from Blair, and her painfully awkward kiss, and told her to cut it the fuck out. Then, I’d stepped out of our hiding spot to eliminate the threat.
In the coming days, weeks, and months that followed, however, I thought about that kiss. I thought about it a lot.
It plays on repeat in my dreams. At night when I suck in a deep breath, I swear I still smell the scent of her cherry chapstick, still feel her soft lips against mine.
And the sound she made? The sweet, innocent little moan of delight?
Fuck, I can still hear it whenever I pull my cock out and fuck into my hand.
After a few failed attempts to get my godchild out of my head, I’ve managed to quietly pull back my irrational and dangerous impulses, pretending to be a normal, decent human being.
Unfortunately, one of the failed attempts to get Blair out of my system required Wes to step in and clean up my mess.
He knows about my inappropriate feelings for Blair, and how dark and twisted they are.
Wes has seen the worst of it and, somehow, he’s managed to continue looking me in the eye.
Which is why I need Wes to be onboard to help me when she gets here.
Wes will keep me in check. He’ll care for Blair in a way I can’t safely do. Not with how badly I crave her. And he’ll do it, I just… I need to tell him what the hell is going on first.
I tighten my grip on my binoculars. It takes a moment to gather the courage to say what needs to be said. Wes won’t like it. I don’t want to disappoint or worry him, but everything is in motion now. Nothing can be done but to accept what’s going to happen.
With a harsh exhale, I tell him, “We’re about to have a new house guest.”
Wes stares at me, his brows furrowing deeply as he does. “What are you talking about? Who?”
“It’s… Blair,” I admit stiffly.
Wes tenses. The worry on his face shifts to dread.
“Explain yourself. Now,” he demands, his voice clipped.
“My buddy’s work, her dad, has bled over into her life, putting Blair right in the crosshairs of some bad people. She needs a place where she can lay low and be safe until things blow over. Blair knows that place is here, with me—as does her father.”
My stomach clenches as I think about how much trouble she must be facing to still not be here. Blair has the skill to kill just as easily as Anchor—I’ve witnessed it first-hand. She might’ve taken a different path than Anchor, but that woman is a natural when it comes to killing.
Wes shakes his head, his jaw tightening as he stares anxiously into my face. He sucks in a deep breath, opens his mouth, then closes it. When he looks away from me, I know he’s trying to remain levelheaded. That’s one of the many things I like about Wes. He’s not reactive.
When his attention returns to me, he doesn’t look happy.
“You and I both know that Blair isn’t safe here, Ledger,” he finally says darkly. “Tell me you know that.”
My teeth gnash together as I fight the urge to object. As much as I wish it otherwise, I know that under different circumstances, Wes would be absolutely right. Luckily, these are the right circumstances.
“With you, Wes, she will be safe.” The way I say it, with such cool and measured neutrality, I could almost believe I had noble intentions when it came to my godchild.
“You’re more than capable of watching Blair’s back.
I’ll watch myself, I really will, but you can be her first line of defense if I get too carried away. I swear, Wes, I won’t touch her.”
“You put too much faith in me, Ledger,” Wes swallows hard. “I can’t—”
“You can,” I object, adamantly. “I need your help, Wes. Blair will need your help. She’s got nowhere else to go.
As much as I want to be the person she runs to, you can be that person for her.
It’s what you’re good at; taking care of others who need it.
Help me make sure Blair’s needs are met.
Let me help her through you.” I take a step toward him and reach out to grab his arm.
“Please tell me you understand that I can’t send her packing.
She’s in danger and I can’t let it touch her. ”
Wes’s mouth brackets and he swallows hard. “And what about after? When the danger’s gone. You’re going to just let her go?”
The doubt in his voice is understandable. I’ve earned his skepticism when it comes to this fixation.
“Absolutely,” I promise him, and myself.
But who knows how long the danger will be hanging over her head? Could be a few weeks, could be a few years. Maybe, eventually, she’ll want to stay even if there wasn’t any danger. Caddawalk is a quaint, quiet town. It's easy to find yourself enjoying a slower pace of life.
Wes doesn’t say anything for a long stretch of time. It goes on long enough that I have to ask, “Wes, will you help me?”
I know how Wes will answer. Even as he looks away, shoulders tense and a tendon popping in his neck, I know how this ends.
I’ve been avoiding this conversation—I don’t like butting heads with my friend and business partner.
Ultimately, Wes’s desire to help those in need will outweigh any objection he might have to this situation.
His broken, jagged heart is held together by sheer determination to be better than the man he was years ago.
“When she gets here, I’ll be here for her however she needs—just like I am with you, Santi, and Rhett,” Wes agrees, his voice is gruff and tense. He doesn’t look at me as he continues speaking. “But I’m telling you now, if you lay a hand on her—”
“I swear on my life—” I interrupt. “—that I will not touch, Blair. I’ll keep my distance.”
The noise he makes sounds suspiciously like a scoff of disgust as he steps away from me—done with this conversation.
Before I can call him back to reassure him that this will be fine, the burner phone in my back pocket vibrates.
I stiffen in surprise, then in hope. All thoughts of Wesley disappear as I reach back for the device.
I flip open the phone, hoping like hell it’s who I think it’s from.
It’s not from Blair. It’s from her father.
W: Has the bird landed?
What the fuck? Anger heats my face as I glare at the screen. Anchor knows better than to reach out. Any communication could be intercepted.
While I’m pissed, I can’t say I’m surprised. Of course, Anchor would want to make sure his daughter is safe. He might have raised her in a questionable lifestyle, but he always had her best interests at heart. Blair will always be his little girl.
With stiff fingers, I reply:
Me: Still in flight
I let out a sigh and shove my phone back into my pocket. More than anything I wish I had better news for him.