Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Blair
The house is quiet while I get ready for the day.
I’m up much earlier than normal but that’s intentional. After slipping on my boots and pulling on one of the guy’s flannels hanging by the door, I pause. Tilting my head I listen for signs that the others are starting to stir.
It won’t be long.
Wes wakes up at four forty-five every morning like clockwork to start his day.
He enjoys the silence as he gets ready and the peace that comes with mindlessly preparing breakfast for everyone.
I like it too. The way we can work and move around one another in a comfortable silence is more peaceful than the mornings I used to wake alone to start a shift wherever I was working at the time.
This morning, however, I need to be alone.
At least for a bit.
Before I quietly slip out of the cabin, I turn on the coffee machine for everyone. I pull the flannel tight around me as I step outside into the cold, crisp October morning. It’s dark out but I can see the faint white hue of frost covering the ground.
I make no move to leave the porch but instead, walk over and lean my forearms against the railing right in front of the kitchen window. Here, the guys will be able to see me if they come down searching for me.
I stare out at the woods. Instinctually, my eyes search for any signs of danger. A shadow that’s not supposed to be there. The glint of metal or glass. A body… Even when I mentally give myself the “all clear”, I don’t stop combing the darkness for danger.
Just one more thing Dad instilled in me.
Who knew that the danger was always there beside me?
I’m outside for ten minutes before I feel eyes on me. I don’t acknowledge Dad when he slips around from the side of the house, walking across the porch on silent feet. He comes up beside me and mirrors my stance—bracing his forearms on the railing.
After another few minutes pass without a single word exchanged, Dad surprises me by breaking the silence first.
“It was five times.”
I look over at him to find his brows pinched together and his jaw locked. Rather than ask what that means, I simply wait. There’s no rushing Dad. Push and he’ll hold out longer just out of spite.
It's another full minute before he speaks again. Dad rolls his shoulders and huffs out a sigh. Turning to meet my gaze, he admits, “I tried five different times to kill you.”
Try as I might, I can’t suppress the flinch that whips through me.
His dark eyes track the subtle move and his jaw ticks. I can’t tell if it’s in disapproval for reacting after years of teaching me not to or if it’s something else.
I stare back at Dad for a long moment, searching his eyes for answers that just aren’t there. There’s no one better at hiding emotions, and apparently secrets, than Dad. Unable to stomach staring at him any longer, I turn and look back toward the yard.
“It was never personal. You never did anything wrong,” he continues.
It feels pretty personal to me.
My heart cracks.
I want the truth, I do. But hearing it… God does it hurt.
“I just…” he stops, hesitating as he considers his next words.
This gives me pause. Dad is always very direct, no matter what. He’s uncertain right now? Him?
“Each time I attempted taking your life, it was right before accepting a big job,” he continues after a moment.
“Jobs where I couldn’t guarantee we’d make it out alive.
Yet, I took them because I knew that I’d be the only one who might’ve had a chance at succeeding.
But the risk of bringing you with me was so great.
Too great. If you got captured, if some of those men had an inkling of who you were to me, the things you would’ve gone through would’ve made all the lessons I gave you look like child’s play. ”
All the faith I thought he had in me… it was a lie. He didn’t trust me at his side.
My eyes burn from tears that I refuse to let fall.
Pushing the knot of emotion out of my throat, I manage to tell him calmly, “You don’t have to explain anymore. I get it.”
Typically, this would be enough for Dad to go quiet. He’s not one for saying much to begin with. Elaborating is not in his realm of expertise. In fact, just what he’s said so far is more than what I expected from him.
But I guess this isn’t a typical conversation for us.
“Before you came into my life, Blair, everything was so easy. So cut and dry,” he presses on, his voice growing gruff. “But you… you complicated things for me on a molecular level. My emotions always seemed to get the best of me where you were concerned.”
A soft laugh of disbelief slips out before I can push it down.
“You? Emotional?” I roll my eyes.
Dad sighs. “I know I’ve always been shit at showing it but I do love you, Blair.
I always have. Even when I was trying to kill you—it was out of love.
I would rather you die by my hands—someone who loved you—than have someone else who wouldn’t have any qualms about how long they dragged out your torment and death. ”
What does it say about me that I understand his thought process? It’s so on brand for him that of course he’d rather kill me than let me suffer.
Anyone else probably would’ve suggested I just stay out of the job altogether but not Dad.
That’s not how he rolled. There was no leaving me behind when he took jobs.
I either came with or he wouldn’t take it.
We didn’t separate, ever. At first it was so that he could keep an eye on my hiding spot.
But as I got older and my skills developed—I became his accomplice.
Just because I understand, however, doesn’t mean I agree with it. Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath of fresh mountain air to settle myself.
“Where does Ledger factor into all of this?” I ask him.
Dad doesn’t answer right away.
I wonder if this is it, where his social battery dies out and he leaves me wondering for days, weeks, or for the rest of my life. You never know when Dad will speak or what he will—or won’t—discuss.
“You know I always call him in for back up on harder jobs,” Dad replies after a pregnant pause.
“I always seemed to wait to try to kill you until I was sure Ledger was nearby. It was like I needed him to be the one to make the call. If he’d stood back and simply let me do it, you wouldn’t be here.
But each time he just…” Out of the corner of my eye I can see Dad shake his head slowly.
“Ledger could talk me out of doing it every time and I was—and still am—grateful for that, even when it seemed like I wasn’t. ”
I suck in a shaky breath.
Ledger was my childhood hero—I always believed that. I just didn’t know exactly how true that title was until now. Before he saw me as a woman, he saw me as his to protect and that… That means the world to me. My heart swells painfully large in my chest.
This only makes me love him even more.
“Which is why…” Dad hedges. “His betrayal burns so terribly. We need to leave, Blair. We’ll handle this threat together, as we have always done, and start anew somewhere else.”
Why am I not surprised that this is where the conversation is headed?
Father-daughter time is officially over. The time to strategize our next move has commenced.
Pressing my lips together in disapproval, I push off the railing and turn to face him. “I’ve dealt with the betrayal. Ledger and I are on the same page now. He’s got a lot to atone for but—”
“I was wrong to trust him,” Dad snaps, cutting me off.
“You can’t believe a thing out of his mouth.
Not now. Somewhere along the way, he’s switched up his allegiance.
I don’t know who he’s working for, but they must be good because I can’t find anything to suggest that any foreign agency has made contact with him. ”
“He’s not working for anyone,” I object. “He just wanted me. This was all about me. He went about it in the worst way possible but he’s willing to see this through until the threat is taken care of.”
Dad’s eyes narrow on me. “Blair, you can’t trust him anymore.”
“Why not? Because he put a hit on me? What’s one attempted murder compared to the five my own father attempted?”
“Don’t be petty, I said I was sorry, Blair Bear.”
I raise a brow. “Did you?”
Dad opens his mouth but chokes on his words. As he sits with that, the back door opens. Dad stiffens and I turn to see who’s joined us. Wes smiles as he comes out, walking toward us. In his hand are two steaming mugs.
“Good morning,” he greets us as he strolls over.
I take the mug he offers me with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
“Of course, baby girl.” He glances over my head at my dad. “I would’ve brought you one, but I didn’t think you’d take it from me.”
“He wouldn’t have, but the thought is appreciated,” I reply.
Dad steps closer to me. I can feel his presence right behind me. “My daughter doesn’t need you to bring her something to drink. She’s capable of making her own cup of coffee.”
Wes raises a brow. “I know she can. She knows she can. But I want to make her a drink and I want her to know she doesn’t have to do everything on her own. That’s what being a partner is all about.”
My face heats as my heart hums with joy.
And fear.
I shoot up a prayer into the universe that Dad doesn’t shoot Wes right here.
“Anyway, I just wanted to come out and let you know breakfast will be ready in about five minutes,” Wes continues with ease. He leans down and, instinctually, I tilt my head up to accept his kiss.
When our lips meet, I melt.
I hum happily as he pulls away, a warm smile clinging to his lips.
“See you inside,” he tells me.
I don’t miss the warning glance he shoots my father, but he leaves us alone to finish our conversation.
“What the hell is going on under this roof?” Dad demands the second the back door clicks shut. “Baby girl? Carino? What is this nonsense?”
How am I supposed to explain my situation with the guys when I barely understand it myself? To give myself some time, I sip my coffee and turn back to stare at the empty firepit several yards away.