Chapter 31
Ledger
Each step I take as I move from building to building, zone to zone, is deliberate.
With each one, I'm hoping that's the step that finally breaks this edgy feeling brewing inside me. Ever since I saw that first notification last night on my phone, where Rhett had left the house I’ve been less man, and more beast. This churning ball of wrath and rage brewing inside of me hasn’t lessened even though I know Blair and Rhett are safe.
He put himself in danger. He put Blair in danger.
There aren’t many rules here at Gnarly Pines. But keeping your head on straight and keeping your head down are two of them. Rhett has broken both.
I’m a reasonable man, though. I know what time of the year it is, and I know Rhett will indulge in more than a few beers than normal to drown his sorrows. Most of the time, I let it slide. But last night? Last night was unacceptable.
Anything could have happened.
With her attention on Rhett, Blair wouldn’t have been focused on her own safety. What if the people after her had grabbed Blair while she was distracted? Distracted by a man so self-absorbed he hadn’t considered the risk he posed or the harm he would’ve caused if Blair hadn’t stopped him.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what transpired. Wes and I had gone out to pick up Rhett’s truck after Santi had slipped into Blair’s room. It had still been running, the headlights pointed to the ledge of the quarry where, on the ground, there was proof of a struggle.
Fucking Rhett.
At least, after all was said and done, his eyes were clearer this morning.
His shoulders weren’t hanging as low as they typically do and he showered.
Hell, he even apologized to me. Not just for putting himself in danger, drinking and driving, but for putting Blair’s life in danger and for being an asshole recently.
That was all… different. Whatever Blair did to him, she must’ve really shook him up.
It shook her up, too. Unfortunately, it didn’t have the same positive effects.
After picking up Rhett’s car, I stayed up all night in my own bed watching the live stream video coming from the camera in Blair’s room.
My heart ached for her as I watched as she constantly wiped tears from her eyes and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep her sobs silent so she wouldn’t wake Santi or Rhett.
Blair’s despair undoubtedly is what’s keeping the beast in me alive.
Blair’s supposed to be happy here. Life is supposed to be easy for her. She shouldn’t ever feel the need to cry. The fact that her tears only slowed when she finally let exhaustion take over and she succumbed to sleep, tells me that I’ve failed her.
I won’t do that again.
The first step to keeping that promise is making sure I know where she is at all times.
Blair managed to handle whatever shit Rhett put her through last night, but what if that’s not the case in the future?
What if something had gone sideways and she needed me?
I wouldn’t have known where she was other than a vague location thanks to the trackers on each truck that they’d taken.
That’s unacceptable.
As I stomp into Building D, I force myself to look like an owner inspecting everyone’s work rather than a beast stalking its prey. My footsteps are slow and steady as I head to the back and then down the hall toward the new nurse’s station.
I’m a few feet away from the door when I hear talking.
“—you should be good to go back to work,” Blair says.
I stop and listen, not wanting to interrupt.
“What about infection?” someone asks.
“Well, I cleaned the cut pretty thoroughly and then used anti-sepic before stitching you up, so there should be a minimal risk for that,” Blair explains. “I do think that if you see it discoloring, or if it swells and pusses, definitely go get it checked.”
Her patient sucks in a deep, shaky breath then lets it out. “Thanks Nurse Blair. I really appreciate this. I really didn’t want to go to the emergency room. I hate that place.”
“Not a problem.”
I hear the shuffling of footsteps before one of Wes’s guys steps out from the room. He doesn’t see me right away as he waves Blair good-bye but when he does he gives me a grin.
“Hey, Mr. Porter!”
Not knowing his name, I simply nod a greeting.
“Our nurse taking good care of you?” I ask him.
The guy grins and lifts his pant leg to show me several stitches keeping a large cut slashed down his leg closed.
“Yup! She’s amazing. Give her a raise for me, okay?” he jokes as he drops his pant leg back down.
I clap him on the back with a quick confirmation that I will before I head inside. Blair’s in the process of cleaning. She pulls off the exam table paper and balls it up before tossing it into a medical receptacle. She gives me a quick half smile as she pulls off her gloves.
“Hey, what’s going on?” she asks.
Rather than answer right away, I turn to close the door behind me. When I turn back around, Blair’s eyes the small box in my hand.
“Get on the table for me, Blair.”
A brow raises curiously before a coy half-smile pulls at her lips. “Are we playing doctor-patient right now? It’s about time you came to check out my body. I want a thorough exam, Dr. Porter.”
My footsteps falter. The energy swirling around inside of me pauses. Heat creeps up into my face, and blood rushes down to my cock as I try, and fail, not to picture the role playing she’s suggesting.
“Stop it,” I warn, pointing at her as I glare. “And get on the table.”
Blair chuckles as she tosses the gloves she’d been wearing into the trash. “Alright, let me wash my hands real quick.”
I watch as Blair moves to the sink that was installed in here yesterday.
There’s a cabinet with doors that lock with some, but not a lot, of medication for pain and the likes.
And across the room from the hospital bed I’d secured is a full metal shelving unit with medical supplies.
There’s not a lot going on in this room but it’s enough to tend to people who get injured on the job until they can go see a real doctor.
When Blair’s done washing up, she moves toward the table, but rather than climb on it, she props her hip against the edge and crosses her arms over her chest as she regards me curiously.
“What’s in the box?” she asks.
I lift the object in my hand, no bigger than a shoebox, and answer, “Insurance.”
“For what?”
“For my peace of mind, and your safety. After last night, I’ve decided I need to know where you are at all times,” I tell her. “Now, get on the table.”
Blair bites the inside of her cheek as she stares at the box a little longer. When her eyes flick up to my face, she shakes her head.
“I’m not letting you put a tracker in me,” she says. “That is a tracker, right?”
My eyes narrow on her. “You’ve seen one before?”
“Yeah, Dad tried tagging me with one a while ago.”
I blink in surprise, though I’m not sure why. It makes sense that Anchor would go through great lengths to keep an eye on his child.
“So you’re already tagged?” I ask her.
Blair snorts her amusement as she rolls her eyes.
“I said he tried, Ledger. I ended up stabbing him in the leg when he didn’t hear me the five hundred times I told him he can fuck right off with that idea.”
I vaguely remember Anchor being hurt a few years back. He’d had a limp for a bit that slowed him down for a job. He’d said an enemy had gotten too close.
Fucking liar.
If the situation wasn’t as it is, I would call the bastard up and taunt him about being stabbed by his own kid. As it is, however, nothing about this is funny.
“Well, he was right. Now, get on the table and let’s get this taken care of.”
Her eyes narrow as her hands go to her hips. “No.”
“Blair…” I growl as my temper rises.
“Just give me a phone and track that.”
I grit my teeth and point to the table. “I’ll get you a phone, but I’m still doing this. Now, don’t make me ask you again.”
Blair sucks her teeth. “Or what?”
She doesn’t see how important this is. If something had happened to her out in those woods, or if she had fallen into the quarry—I’d still be out there searching for her.
I wouldn’t stop until I found her. This would cut my time searching for her in half.
Given the threat hanging over her head right now, with this Dixie asshole sending people after her, it’s a no-brainer that I have to know where she is at all times.
With a sigh, I walk over to the head of the table and gently place the box on top of it.
“You were never this stubborn when you were on the road with Anchor,” I muse out loud as I turn to face her.
Blair shrugs. “It was life or death most of the time. An attitude would’ve cost me my life or Dad’s.”
“This could be the difference between life and death,” I point out, trying real hard to keep my temper in check.
“How about we compromise?”
A salacious smile begins to stretch across her face. It’s followed by the flash of amusement and something primal flaring to life in her eyes. I still; sensing a trap.
“Compromise?” I study her suspiciously. “How so?”
Blair steps forward, watching me closely.
“I really don’t want to be tagged,” she starts. “And you really are holding on to this whole ‘not touching me’ thing. How about we—”
I don’t even let her finish the sentence.
If I did, my will power might crumble. The few weeks that she’s been here have been torture but the absolute best kind.
I’ve vowed not to touch Blair. She thinks it’s just because I respect her father but it’s so much more than that.
If I let myself taste her… If I allowed myself to touch her…
My soul would implode and I’d ruin her.
I can’t have her. But Blair’s finding what she needs in Santi and Wes, and that’s enough for me.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.