Chapter 22 #3
“Her father would lock her away in rooms, steamer trucks, under floorboards for days, sometimes a week or two at a time to desensitize her to hiding. Then, he put her through vigorous training not even grown men tend to make it through. He starved her, tortured her, forced her to torture others. He prepared her for fuckers like you coming for her. The woman you’re after? She’s not some easy target.”
Anger swells as I think about what Anchor did to his child.
I know about some of the training Blair went though, I was there through a lot of it.
I resented the way he treated her—like a soldier, not a child.
I might not be a parent, but I know there were things Blair didn’t need to experience in order to understand how hard life could be.
Each time I joined them on a job, the shadows in Blair’s eyes seemed just a little bit deeper.
“Blair’s gone through hell in order to survive,” I mutter, staring at the blood dripping down his face. “She’s done a great job on her own so far but everyone needs a little help and for her, that’s me.”
At this, the man in the chair gasps out weakly, “Y-you?”
“Damn right it’s me,” I reply, my body trembling with rage as I consider the threat this man poses to my godchild.
He’ll never see her face. I’ll make sure of that.
“I’m not after the girl. I already got her.
So, help me out here, will you? I want to personally tell whoever sent you, that Blair is mine. Who the fuck is your handler?”
“Their alias is Dixie! I don’t know their real name,” he wheezes. “Their number is the last one dialed in my burner phone. Back pocket…”
Rhett pushes off the wall and saunters over. He comes up behind the man and goes for his pocket. When he has the phone, Rhett opens it and begins going through it.
“He’s cleared his contacts and call log,” he says.
I chuckle darkly. “Did you think I wouldn’t check?”
The man spits a wad of blood on the ground. “I-It was worth trying, I guess.”
The bolt cutters strike him across the face again. He lets out a hard sob as he sags forward.
“Sharing anything useful right about now might save your life,” I tell him.
His head jerks up. Through swollen eyes he asks weakly, “Y-you’ll let me out of here if I talk?”
“As long as you leave and never come back,” I lie.
“I w-was there. When Dixie got the, um, message a-about the job,” the hitman croaks.
“Some guy named Earwig needed backup on a large job he’d been contracted for.
Some father-daughter hit. He didn’t know the girl but the man?
Apparently this Anchor guy is like Death itself; invisible and unstoppable.
I guess the name meant something to him because Dixie got all excited.
Dixie said he’d help—that he’d take this job pro bono ‘cause he has a bone to pick with Anchor’. ”
I don’t react to the information. Not outwardly at least. Inwardly, I’m both terrified and relieved.
Someone with a personal vendetta against Anchor doesn’t really whittle down who this Dixie character could be, but it does mean that they won’t be telling anyone else about this open contract—they’ll want to see it through themselves.
That’s not great news because they’ll throw every resource they have at Anchor and Blair until the job is done. But this is good because this means it’s not a free-for-all; not everyone and their brother is out to get the both of them. This gives me some hope that the situation is controllable.
“Why didn’t this Dixie character send you first?” Rhett asks, taking over the interrogation as I mull over this information. “Since you were there when he learned about the hit on Anchor and his daughter?”
The hitman shoots him a wary glance. “I was about to leave for another job. I only just got back a few days ago and that’s when Dixie told me the others had failed and he needed me.
No one can find Anchor, but Dixie had a general idea of where the girl could be.
Or at the very least, had been last seen.
He needed me to grab her so that he could use her to lure Anchor out. It sounded… easy enough.”
My bolt cutters go swinging and they make contact with the side of the man’s face. His head whips to the side and he lets out a harsh cry of pain before his head drops to his chest and he goes still.
“Yeah? You thought it would be easy?” I snarl, getting into his face. “Still think that? Blair’s not going anywhere. An army could come and I would tear through every fucking man and woman there was until there were only stumps left and not even those stumps would touch her.”
Rhett chuckles as he reaches out to grab a handful of wiry mouse-brown hair. He yanks the man’s head back and slaps him a few times to wake him up. The hitman gasps weakly as he comes to.
“There you are,” Rhett coos with a dark and sinister chuckle.
“I thought we’d lost you there for a second.
In case you didn’t hear that, if you or anyone else touches Blair—you’re dead.
I may not be fond of her, but—” he shrugs.
“She’s under our protection so even if you got through him,” he shoves a figure in my direction.
“You’d have to get through me next and you don’t look like you’re in any position to mow either of us down. ”
“P-please… this job means nothing to me,” he rasps out. “I-I can set up a meeting. You can…talk to Dixie face to—”
I snort out a laugh. “Yeah, no. You can’t bait me. I won’t be walking into a trap.”
“What else d-do you want from me?” the man wheezes pathetically.
“If you don’t call in or return, what then? Your handler will send someone else?” I ask curiously.
He nods. “I won’t be the last b-but I can tell Dixie that I-I killed the girl. Just give me a hand or even just her finger to take back with me and—”
A scoff of disbelief followed by a snarl of rage, erupts from me before I strike.
The bolt cutters come up and then straight down. The sickening thud of bone cracking is so familiar I don’t flinch at the noise. Over and over, I strike him. Even when there’s nothing more than skin, tendons, and brain matter attached to his neck, I keep going.
The thought of this bastard taking bits of my woman has me burning with rage.
Vaguely, I hear movement around me, then silence but I don’t pay it any mind.
So wrapped up in my own bloody haze of fury, nothing else really matters at this moment.
No one is taking Blair from me. And whoever tries will end up just like this fucker.
I wish I could hang this body up for all to see as a warning for anyone else who tries to come after her.
Like a scarecrow in a field, a dead body would do wonders keeping other troublemakers away.
In the distance, I’m aware the basement door is opening and closing.
Was that the second time I’d heard it do that?
“Hey.” A hand touches my back and I stiffen. Before I can swing around to hit whoever’s crept up behind me, Rhett adds, “Wood chipper is warmed up and ready to go.”
I relax instantly. Right, I can’t just pulverize this guy out of existence. The bolt cutters drop to the cement floor with a loud clang. I look over my shoulder at Rhett.
“You good?” he asks.
“I’ve been better,” I admit.
“Well, you can get piss ass drunk once the body’s taken care of. That should help,” Rhett suggests. “Or, you can take a shower and get some sleep. It’s nearly four in the morning. The latter’s probably the healthier coping mechanism but I won’t judge if you choose option one.”
Amusement tries, but fails, to bubble up in my chest. So instead of chuckling, I simply grunt. I turn back to the man in the chair. His head is all but gone, split into bloody chunks of blood and flesh on the floor.
“Was all that true?” Rhett asks after a beat of silence. “About Blair and what her dad did to her?”
I nod but stay silent.
Regrettably, I’d forgotten Rhett was in the room with me when I went on that tangent.
I shouldn’t have said anything. Blair’s life isn’t my story to share.
Anchor raised his kid in a way that he thought best and though I never approved of his methods I never really voiced my objections either.
Blair wasn’t my kid. What did I know about raising one under the conditions he lived in?
That being said, I was around a lot more than I probably needed to be, job or not, just to make sure Blair knew there was someone watching out for her in case Anchor took things too far.
Which reminds me… Glaring at Rhett, I growl out, “I will be the one to tell her about this, got it?”
Rhett shrugs. “Fine by me. Now, let’s go chop up this asshole. Then we got to go take care of his car.”