Chapter 30
Thirty
Ledger
Ican feel Wes’s gaze on my face.
It’s as obvious as the cold October air and just as frigid.
Rather than return it, my eyes scan the dark woods around us. I know Wes is waiting on me to explain what to expect when our visitor arrives but he’ll be waiting a long time.
The problem is, I don’t know what’s coming.
Over the years, I’ve learned that predicting Anchor’s next move, or his mood, is impossible.
You just never know what he’s going to do or say or how he’ll react.
The only constant that I can rely on is that he loves his daughter and will do anything for her.
Anything.
And it’s because of the extreme lengths he’d go to that I—despite all my instincts that say otherwise—stuck it out and remained friends with Anchor after years of watching his moral compass grow askew.
Someone had to watch out for Blair as Anchor moved further and further away from the light.
I couldn’t be there all the time, but I tried as hard as I could to be as present as possible.
Beside the roaring campfire, Rhett is manically chopping wood. Each thunk of his axe seems to mimic the hard beating of my heart.
The others don’t know, and I can’t warn them of it, but with Anchor here—the dynamic is going to shift. They’re in danger, but if I told them that, none of them would be able to remain calm enough for me to talk some sense into Anchor.
“Hey, Wes!”
I suppress a flinch of surprise at the sound of Santi’s voice as he calls from the back porch.
Fuck, I’m too wound up. Anchor’s going to notice and get suspicious. He notices everything.
“What’s up, Santi?” Wes calls back.
“How much longer will the chicken take? Everything else is ready!”
“Give me another few minutes!”
“‘Kay!”
I turn to watch as Santi slips back inside, slamming the door shut behind him. Wes flips the chicken over on the grill and then cuts a breast to check the inside.
“A few minutes until dinner? Perfect. That should be just enough time to acquaint myself with all of these… strangers,” a familiar voice deadpans from behind me.
Rhett whirls around with wide, startled eyes, his grip adjusting on the axe to use as a weapon in the same move. Wes’s hand goes to his hip where his gun is but doesn’t draw it when he turns in my direction.
I turn to face Anchor as he emerges from the woods.
Damn, I was hoping the trail cameras would pick him up. But that was foolish of me—of course he’d avoid the trail cameras. He wouldn’t want to give away his position. And he knows where they all are—he helped me install them.
Our eyes meet and he smiles at me. Or rather, he tries to smile. He never could get that expression right. There’s always been something too sharp, too intense in the way he stares to make the smile on his lips seem pleasant.
At least he’s trying.
I don’t bother. While I’m not exactly sure of his intentions, I know that he’s not here just to pay a friendly visit.
Missing a text from Anchor has been my biggest slip up to date.
You don’t ignore a text from him. That’s his rule.
You get twenty-four hours to respond. After that, he worries and Anchor loathes to worry.
“Anchor,” I greet as he comes to a stop in front of me. “Good to see you again.”
Anchor eyes are lifeless.
The campfire doesn’t brighten them, nor does the smile on his face.
Sometimes, when I’m around enough, I can bring a spark back to them, but it’s been years since I’ve seen him and it shows. The man in front of me is a deadly, soulless killing machine who hasn’t been in contact with other living beings in a long fucking time.
“Sparrow…” he drawls. “It has been awhile. You look…” his brows furrow as he tilts his head and studies me closer.
“If you say ‘old’ I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
Anchor’s smile grows but again, it’s off—as always.
“I was going to say, ‘hairy’.”
I chuckle as I reach up and tug at my beard. “Yeah, well, I thought I could lean into the whole lumberjack thing.”
I’ve never kept my facial hair this long before. But from the first night here, I noticed how much Blair liked it. Her eyes would smolder just a bit each time they skimmed across my face. If she likes it, I’ll keep it for however long she wants.
My hand falls away from my face as Anchor’s gaze bounces over toward Rhett and Wes.
Right… Introductions.
Turning halfway around, I call out to the others, “Come on over, guys.”
Rhett looks like he’d rather do anything else judging by the dark look he shoots at me, then at Blair’s dad. Stiffly, he lowers the axe at his side but brings it with him as he stomps over. Wes has more grace. He smiles easily and his whole body relaxes as he gives us a nod.
“One second, let me take the chicken off the grill. Blair will kill me if I dry these breasts out.”
Anchor hums.
It’s an innocent sound. One that could be considered thoughtful coming from anyone else. But I know Anchor well enough to hear the sound for it really is—a warning.
Well, shit… How did Wes slip up? Even as I wonder, the answer comes to me. Ah, he’d used Blair’s real name rather than her alias, CeCe.
Quickly, I redirect his attention.
“Anchor, this here is Rhett,” I introduce, trying to push down my fear for Wes’s safety. “Gnarly Pines’s Head Mechanic.”
Anchor turns his full attention to Rhett.
“Rhett… No last name?” Anchor asks.
Rhett glowers at Anchor before leaning the axe against his leg to reach into his flannel’s chest pocket. He pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. Rhett takes his time lighting the cigarette. When it’s lit, he sucks in a deep toke then lets it out through his nose.
“Wells,” he offers gruffly when he’s done. “Rhett Wells.”
Anchor’s smile doesn’t budge. “You sure?”
Rhett’s glower grows darker. “About what?”
“That your name is Rhett Wells.” Anchor’s eyes narrow. “Because when I did a quick search on all the men that live under this roof, I found that a ‘Rhett Wells’ didn’t exist. The government has a large database, I’m sure it would’ve come up if Rhett Wells was real.”
To his credit, Rhett only freezes for a second before he takes another drag of his cigarette. When he lets out a puff of smoke, he smirks at Anchor.
“Fuck the government, am I right, William?”
I have to shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans to keep from strangling Rhett. He’s always a prick to new people so his attitude isn’t unexpected. But Rhett knows Anchor is a dangerous man. Pissing him off is a death sentence and Rhett has to know using his real name will do the trick.
Anchor’s smile widens. “Fuck the government, indeed.”
I nudge my head to the man manning the grill. “Then you know that’s Wesley Richardson, a.k.a. Wes.”
My friend nods, his eyes leaving Rhett’s face to slide over my shoulder to where Wes is finishing up.
“I do.”
Of course he does. I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t do his research before showing his face. Which… is another concern. Anchor doesn’t just turn up and sit through introductions. Not if he believes they could be a threat to him later on.
With a frown, I ask, “How long have you been in the—”
“DAD!”
I jerk my head toward the cabin to see Blair shove the dish in her hand into Santi’s arms before jumping the stairs and hurrying toward us with a wide grin. She’s nearly upon us when Wes steps forward and wraps an arm around her waist.
It’s not to stop her.
Not necessarily.
But as Wes tucks her beneath his arm and into his side, I can see the flash of protectiveness in Wes’s blue eyes as he stares down at her, then shoots a warning look at Anchor.
My stomach drops further as I tick off all the things that Wes did that Anchor would find offense at within just these few seconds.
He’s touching Blair with too much ease and familiarity.
He stepped between Anchor and his daughter.
And that look he’s giving Anchor? That don’t fuck with my girl look? Yeah, that’s just adding fuel to the fire.
Fuck… Maybe I should’ve had a quick pep talk with everyone about who they were dealing with.
“Have you guys been introduced?” Blair asks Wes eagerly.
“We were just going through introductions,” Wes assures her warmly as he guides her over.
When they get to my side, Blair leaves Wes’s hold to greet her father. Given her exuberance, I half expect Blair to throw her arms around him.
But of course, she doesn’t.
She knows better than that.
Yet, while they don’t embrace, Blair beams up at her father with such adoration that it melts the coldest parts of Anchor. I can see a flicker of humanity return in his eyes. It’s there and gone in a flash but it’s something.
“My Blair Bear,” he greets with as much affection as someone like him can muster.
Which probably looks like nothing to the guys, but I can hear the warmth in his voice that wasn’t there a second ago.
“I was so worried with you on your own out there!” she tells him.
Anchor tuts, his smile faltering for the first time as disapproval colors his tone. “You waste energy worrying, Blair, and you know how I feel about wasting energy.”
Blair shrugs. “Well, now I don’t have to with you here.
Come, we made dinner. You can tell me all about what you’ve been up to.
We’ve made a Mediterranean salad so it won’t sit too heavy but you’ll get most of your food groups.
The garlic naan might be a bit too fancy for you, but it’s delicious so you at least have to try it. ”
Anchor raises a brow curiously, “Learning to cook, Blair Bear?”
“She’s the best chef I know,” Wes says warmly as he looks down at Blair.
She smiles back at him.
Anchor takes note of the interaction.
“Between her and Wes, the rest of us have been getting spoiled,” I tell him as I nudge my head to indicate for everyone to follow as I turn around and head for the table.
Santi skips down the porch steps with a plate covered in foil.
“Carino, on the table or next to the grill?” Santi calls out.
Blair trots past me toward him. “On the table!”
“Carino?” Anchor mutters darkly from behind me.