Chapter 27
Blair
“No, don’t hold it like that, Blair. Grab it by the butt of the handle,” Ledger calls from a few feet away.
I frown, shifting the small axe so that I’m holding it as he’s suggested.
“This feels weird.” I gauge the weight of the axe in my hand. “Are you sure?”
A loud thwack sounds as Santi’s throwing axe slams into the trunk of the tree we’re aiming for.
“Yeah, Ledger’s right. It definitely flew better that time,” he declares with a grin in my direction.
I glare at him. “Lucky hit.”
“If that’s the case, luck's on my side tonight because that’s twice I’ve hit our target and you…
” Santi pauses to grab his chin thoughtfully.
“Wait, how many times have you hit the tree? Once? Oh wait, no that hit just bounced off the target. So, the answer is none. You’ve hit the tree zero times so far. Luck isn’t your friend today, is it?”
Santi, Ledger, and Wes laugh at me as I growl at Santi. The slight wind shifts, growing stronger as the evening progresses, and forces the smoke from the campfire to drift over me and Santi.
“Alright, a few more times but then we should head in,” Wes suggests as he gets to his feet. “There’s a storm coming. Judging by the thunder, it sounds like it’s already hit downtown.”
I make a face but shift my feet, tighten my core, and throw the axe. It doesn’t hit the tree at all. In fact, it soars past it before disappearing into the woods.
“Hey, look! At least it got near the tree this time!” Santi cheers.
I shove him, causing him to stumble away from me. He laughs wildly in response. With a frustrated huff, I throw my hands into the air.
“Okay, I definitely prefer throwing knives. Even the throwing stars are easier than this!” I announce.
Santi snickers. “What’s this? Can the hitwoman not hit anything?”
I whirl around to point at him with a glare. “Watch it. I don’t need an axe to take you down.”
“Oh no! I’m so scared!” he taunts as he jogs away to grab his axe.
“If we were using guns this wouldn’t even be a competition!” I call after him, tapping the piece holstered to my hip.
“Too bad we’re not using guns then, huh?!” He calls over his shoulder as he yanks his axe out of the tree.
Ledger chuckles from his seat by the campfire. “You’re good with most weapons, Blair. You’ll get decent with these. It just takes practice.”
He’s a different person from the other night.
The angry, commanding presence Ledger radiated is gone.
Now, he’s relaxed and unperturbed as he watches me and Santi’s friendly competition with our new weapons.
I’ve tried to ignore the way his eyes never leave my body but it’s nearly impossible.
With each rake over me, he’s branding me wordlessly. I feel it deep in my bones.
“Here.” Wes approaches me from my other side, swooping down to pick up an axe before coming closer. He hands it to me and says, “Grab a hold of it and I’ll show you the rest.”
Taking the weapon, I slide my hand down the axe to where I’m supposed to hold it.
Wes comes up behind me and grabs my hips.
Instantly, the axe in my hand is forgotten.
My heart skips a beat and my breath catches.
All of my attention narrows onto the man pressing up against behind me.
Wes feels enormous as he crowds me, there’s nowhere I could turn where Wes wouldn’t be.
The last time he’d held me this closely was two days ago in the kitchen, where he and Ledger had chased away the idea of leaving these men, and Gnarly Pines, behind.
“Here, twist your hips a little and place a bit more weight onto your back leg,” he says.
His voice is calm and steady—as if he’s completely unaffected by our close proximity.
Me? I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed as his woodsy scent wraps around me and the warmth that radiates from his jacket seems to cocoon me.
The way Wes feels like he’s everywhere makes me feel safe.
It’s a strange feeling to know I can’t let my guard down around anyone other than Ledger or Dad, but I know I can with Wes.
He would keep any harm from me. It’s a heady sensation to include one more person in my small circle of trust. So much so, that it feels like the world around me is reeling.
I suck in a shaky breath. Oh, that’s why it’s spinning—I’ve stopped breathing.
“You’re used to using lighter weapons. I’m guessing you’re relying on muscle memory that you’d use for them as you try to throw the axe,” Wes says.
“But there’s a bit more when it comes to a heavier weapon like this.
As you throw the axe, shift your weight forward, to follow the weapon.
Also, you need to let it go a little later than you would a knife.
This needs more momentum and it takes greater force to spin. Got it?”
He lifts my arm with the axe and I relax, giving him dominion over my body. I swallow hard as he moves my arm in the arch needed, while he presses the right side of his hip into mine to get my hips to turn with the motion.
“Good, now roll that weight on your back leg forward, keeping your stomach tight,” Wes murmurs into my ear. “Yes, that’s right, Blair. Just like that. You’re doing good, baby girl.”
I shiver at the praise, bewildered at how easily it makes me want to melt.
Santi jogs back over with his three axes and the two I’d thrown. He tosses mine at my feet and comes to stand beside us, eyeing the way Wes is holding me.
“How do I get you to do that for me, Wes?” he asks with a mischievous smile.
“Here, Santi, I’ll hold you,” Ledger offers, his tone dry, as he gets to his feet.
Santi spins around with a laugh. “I want to be held nice and tight, Ledger. Don’t hold back.”
Ledger snorts his amusement. “You know what? Never mind.”
He bends down to reach into the cooler for another soda. Just as he pulls one out, his phone rings. Ignoring him, I turn my attention back to the axe in my hand.
“Okay, let me see if I got it this time,” I tell Wes.
He steps back to give me space. I practice the motion before attempting to throw again. When the axe does go flying, it slams into the tree, just above the ‘X’ Ledger etched into it where Santi and I have been aiming.
“Woohoo!” Santi cheers.
I pump a victory fist in the air and whirl around to give Wes a wide grin. To my surprise, he leans down and kisses me. I freeze for a second, not used to the open display of affection, but then I’m kissing him back.
“Wait, she gets cuddles and kisses?! What the hell? Where are mine?” Santi demands.
I break the kiss with a laugh and turn to him. “Do you want a kiss for—”
“I absolutely fucking do!” He stomps over, grabs my face and kisses me harder and more passionately than Wes had. When he lifts his head I’m feeling a bit dazed. His smile turns dreamy.
“Alright, we’ll be right there,” Ledger says to the person on the other line, bringing me back into the moment.
“Santi, Wes, the fire department needs our help. A few trees have fallen in the way of the fire station and they’re worried that if they get a call for help tonight they won’t be able to get out. Let’s load up and head out.”
I perk up with interest. “Oh, I didn’t realize you took calls like this.”
“We have the equipment to help,” Ledger explains. “So we do what we can.”
“Should I go get Rhett?” Wes asks.
I don’t miss how Santi glances up at the house with a frown before grabbing the bucket of water and tossing it over the fire in the pit. Ledger shakes his head and lets out a sigh.
“He’ll be a liability with how wasted he is. I don’t want him near any tools right now,” he replies, grimly.
“I’ll tell him we’re leaving,” I offer. “I need to go grab a jacket anyways. It’s cold and I don’t want to get rained on.”
“Hold up,” Ledger calls out.
I stop to turn around. “What? Do you need anything in—”
“You’re not coming,” he interrupts.
“What? Why not?”
“Because someone needs to be around to keep an eye on Rhett.” Ledger sighs and adds, “Besides, we know what we’re doing. We’ll be faster without you there.”
I glare at him. “I don’t want to be his babysitter. And I’m a fast learner—”
“No, Blair.” The finality in Ledger’s tone causes my back to stiffen and my hands to curl into fists.
I bristle. I haven’t been told no in years. Before I can decide if I want to storm off in a huff, Santi is there, wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding me toward the house. A raindrop hits his forehead, then mine, and the wind picks up on a howl.
“Look, carino, you don’t want to chop down trees with us in the rain.
It’ll be miserable,” he assures me. “I don’t even want to do it but duty calls.
We’ll be back in a few hours and we can hang out then.
” He ducks his head to whisper closer in my ear.
“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to taste you.
I’ve been dying to devour your sweet pussy again.
How about, when I get home, I pin you down onto my mattress and I feast on you for the rest of night? ”
My face burns as his words warm me from the inside out.
Other than a few kisses here and there, the two of us haven’t had a moment alone in a while. It’s mostly because of me. Between mentally preparing myself to leave and not wanting to come between Santi and Rhett, I’ve purposefully distanced myself from him.
But now that I’ve decided to stay, I don’t want to keep my distance.
With an elbow into his side, I step out from under Santi’s arm and skip up the porch steps.
“You’re abandoning me,” I tell him, playfully being stubborn. “I don’t know if I want to stay in your bed tonight.”
“Then we can use your bed tonight,” he says, his tone still playful.
“Just picture it: my face buried in your wet pussy and your head nestled into your pillow. Honestly, I can’t imagine a more romantic evening.
” There’s a pause before he adds, “And if you get too sensitive before I’m done we can just cuddle. ”
I turn to look down at him from where Santi stands at the bottom of the porch steps. Before he can hide it, there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression. It’s as if he wants this but doesn’t want to push.
I frown as I consider something. “You know what? I’ve never literally slept with anyone before. What if I snore?”
Santi grins. “No worries, I’ll just suffocate you with a pillow.”
My laugh is a bit strangled as I consider the intimacy of such a request. I’m so used to being alone that the idea of sharing a bed for anything other than sex feels exciting…
in the sense that approaching a wild predator in the hopes to touch it is exciting.
I hesitate a second longer, only to fight back the anxiety of what-ifs that bubble up, before I nod.
“Alright,” I point at him and give him a stern glare. “But no hogging the covers.”
“Deal!”
With that, he jogs off after Wes and Ledger, who are heading down to Zone One where the Gnarly Pines work trucks are. Their personal vehicles sit beside the cabin, completely ignored. I watch until they’re completely out of sight, then I sigh and head inside.
I end up cleaning the first floor of the cabin to keep myself from going insane.
Between Wes and I, we keep this house pretty straightened but I need to do something or I’ll go stir crazy. It’s not until the floors are swept, vacuumed, and mopped, every flat surface is dusted and the windows are clean that I finally flop down onto the couch to watch some television.
As a kid, the ability to watch TV was a once in a blue moon treat.
It was only when Dad could find a motel that was obscure enough not to draw attention, and safe, that I could plop down onto the mattress—another luxury I didn’t often get—and flip on some random TV show.
As an adult, I see it the same way. The house is clean and now I can indulge for a little bit.
I’m not sure how much time passes between picking my show and passing out but I jolt awake to the sound of heavy booted footsteps dragging themselves down the hallway.
I sit up and look over my shoulder, my hand going to my waistband to settle over the handle of the gun.
By the time my fingers have wrapped around it, I realize I’m hearing Rhett.
He passes by the entrance of the living room toward the kitchen, not sparing me a glance.
Dressed in a brown plaid flannel, a white stained t-shirt and jeans—it looks like he hadn’t changed from when he came home from work hours ago.
His hair is disheveled and greasy, and his face looks almost waxy from lack of color and life.
I grimace as the smell of alcohol trails after him and drifts into the room.
I open my mouth to ask if he’s okay but then close it. It’s not worth being yelled at. That’s the only way he’s been communicating to any of us lately so, no doubt, that’s what I’ll get for offering any assistance. If Rhett wants to be alone in his drunken stupor, who am I to get in his way?
With a sigh, I lay back down and my eyes drift to the television screen.
Huh, looks like the sitcom I was watching has changed to some sort of documentary on the evolution of sea creatures?
I grimace. I hate the ocean. Reaching down, I grab for the remote but freeze when I hear the back door open and shut.
“Rhett?” I call out, sitting back up again. There’s no response. I try again. “Rhett? Are you there?”
When he doesn’t answer again, I toss off the throw blanket from my legs and get to my feet. Quietly, I tiptoe to the hallway and peer down it, toward the kitchen.
“Rhett…?”
The sound of a truck engine coming to life causes my heart to leap up into my throat.
I rush down the hallway, into the empty kitchen and throw open the back door.
As I step out onto the porch, Rhett’s truck is backing up.
He pulls out too far, almost hitting the chairs around the campfire before it screeches to a stop.
Oh, no… He’s too drunk to be driving. What is he thinking? Shit! With a shout, I start waving my hands in the air to get his attention. I try to hurry down the steps but the rain that’s now coming down in hard sheets makes them slick and I slip, taking the last two on my butt.
“Shit!” I hiss as I scramble to my feet. “RHETT!”
I watch as he peels down the gravel driveway, kicking up rocks, dirt, and water as he leaves. Where the hell is he going? To get more alcohol? I guess it doesn’t matter. Either way, Rhett isn’t in any condition to drive. He’ll get himself, or someone else, killed like this.
Dread pools in my gut as I turn and hurry back up the stairs and into the kitchen. I shove my shoes on quickly, snatch up a pair of keys hanging next to the door, then sprint back out of the house with only one thought on my mind: Bring Rhett back here safely.