Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
Wesley
Iwatch Blair as she throws her axe.
It hits the bullseye straight on. She’s gotten the hang of it since this morning when she started.
Rather than celebrate, she simply reaches down for the next one lying at her feet. Standing beside her is Rhett who’s been chain smoking since I returned from my zone this afternoon. He’s standing just out of her way, but I swear he’s been inching closer the past few minutes—I just can’t prove it.
I wonder if he’s made her stop to take a break at some point today or if he just hung out and watched with the same rigid pose.
It’s odd seeing Rhett being her protector when, not all that long ago, he was her tormentor. Funny almost. But I can’t seem to find it in me to tease him about it given the current state of things.
Ledger sticks close to Blair too, but rather than watch her, his eyes are scanning the woods. He’s no doubt waiting for the arrival of Anchor again. A chill works its way down my spine at the thought of being in his presence again.
It’s followed by a heated tendril of resentment.
For all the skills and training he has—the man seems oblivious to the adoration that radiates from his daughter.
I’d watched them talk on the porch through the kitchen window and I swear, the man is made from stone.
His expression never seemed to change. The stiff posture in which he carries himself never loosened.
It was like watching an officer talk to a soldier—not a father to his daughter.
What I wouldn’t give to go back and give my daughter the love she deserved.
Anchor doesn’t have the same excuse I did. He’s not a drunk or a deadbeat. He seems to simply be oblivious to emotions, or opinions, or the thoughts of others. No wonder he’s a loner.
I flip the ribs on the grill.
Hm… Almost done. I’ll need to grab the BBQ sauce.
As I close the top of the grill, I check the temperature before heading back up to the cabin.
When I return to the grill, I place the home-made BBQ sauce down then saunter over to Blair.
I stand beside her, waiting until she’s thrown the last axe before placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her from going after them.
“Hey, drink,” I tell her and shove a glass of water in her hands. “Have you eaten today?”
“No.” Rhett answers for her as she takes a sip.
She shoots him a glare. “Neither has Rhett.”
“Well, dinner is almost done. I expect you two to eat. You’re going to wear yourself out.”
Blair rolls her eyes. “Or, I'll keep getting better and better.”
“She has gotten better,” Rhett agrees. “This morning she was still missing the tree.”
“You’ll get sloppy once you get lightheaded from lack of calories and water,” I counter.
I wait until Blair downs her glass of water to take the glass back. I leave the two of them to get her axes out of the tree. By the time I’m done bringing out chips, macaroni salad, baked beans, and homemade coleslaw, the ribs are done.
Blair forgoes axe throwing to quickly set the table.
“Santi, laptop away,” I order. “Family time.”
Santi looks up from where he's furiously typing away at the picnic table. “But I got something!”
We all freeze in surprise.
“What?” Ledger snaps stomping over to him. “What’d you find, Santi?”
Blair helps me carry the food over to the table but we all forget about it as we crowd around Santi’s laptop.
I sit down beside him and drag Blair down onto my lap.
Needing the contact, I band my arm around her waist and pull her close to my chest. Her hand comes to rest on my forearm. The contact settles me.
Santi points to a whole bunch of random information on his screen. “I found a connection that could help us. Do you see this name right here?”
“Jonathan Stowell?” I ask.
Santi nods. “Yeah, that’s who bought the drones.”
“How does that help? Is Jonathan this Dixie asshole’s real name?” Rhett asks.
“No.” Santi clicks a few buttons and a second later, a new window opens.
“Nor does he match any of the names on the list Ledger gave me. However, I did some digging and found he’s the son-in-law of the owner of this company called BioX.
The owner’s name is Mallard Dixon—which was kind of close to something of a connection.
So, I looked up the guy and he has no ties to the military but found that he has a younger brother named—”
“Arnon Dixon. AKA Dixie.”
We all tense and jump at the sound of Anchor’s voice coming from behind us. He approaches confidently and quietly, having seemingly materialized out of nowhere. Anchor’s eyes sweep over us casually but I know there can’t be anything casual about this man. He’s, no doubt, searching for a threat.
His eyes land on his daughter before landing on me last.
They don’t narrow and his body language doesn’t change but I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise and I know he disapproves of Blair being on my lap.
Blair must sense it too because she starts to squirm to get off but I refuse to let her dad dictate things around here.
Especially after learning he tried to kill Blair in the past. This man doesn’t deserve any of our respect.
Definitely not hers. My arm tightens around her waist, holding her in place as I hold his cold, empty gaze.
While I should be scared of him, I’m more so disgusted.
No, that’s not true.
As Anchor approaches, thick, curdling loathing bubbles up from my gut and burns the back of my throat.
Nothing that I’ve learned about this man since I’ve met Blair has given me any reason to find common ground with him.
And ever since he first opened his mouth, he’s only been full of condescension and dismissal.
How Blair managed to grow up without resenting him is beyond me but I’ll do it for the both of us. Blair can love her father, while I protect her from him.
Ledger stiffens. “I don’t know an Arnon. Who’s—”
“You wouldn’t. He was the quiet, mousy man I met just after bootcamp,” Anchor explains as he rounds the table. He stops at my side where Rhett is sitting. “Mind if I sit with my daughter?”
It’s not a question despite how it’s posed.
Rhett isn’t stupid. He knows this is a power move. But if Anchor thought Rhett would be a push over, he picked the wrong guy. Rhett’s upper lip lifts and he sneers. “Need help finding an empty spot, old man?”
Anchor’s fingers twitch and I feel Blair stiffen in my lap.
“Dad,” she snaps, drawing his deadly gaze away from Rhett. “Sit and grab a plate. We can talk and eat while dinner is still warm.”
Anchor shoots Rhett another cold look before he makes his way around to the other side of the table to sit across from Ledger.
“Food first, then chat,” Blair declares as Santi opens his mouth to speak. She shifts to look back at me and smiles. “The ribs smell delicious, Wes. Thanks for making them tonight.”
I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “Of course.”
“Ledger should invest in a smoker for us,” she continues. “I think that would be fun to try next time.”
Ledger shoots her a deadpan look from across the table. “I pay Wes well enough to buy his own.”
“And yet, I suggested you do it.” Her clipped response earns a snicker from both Santi and Rhett as they both grab food. “Move over Rhett.”
Rhett does as he’s told immediately and I allow Blair to slide off my lap so she can grab a plate of ribs.
As food is passed around—rather hurriedly as we all wait to learn more about Dixie—Anchor watches us closely.
His eyes are eerily dark as they track his daughter and the rest of us as we reach for food and chat.
He waits until everyone else has grabbed food before picking up the last rack of ribs.
Blair beams at him as he places the meat onto his plate.
“It does smell good,” he admits gruffly.
Beside me, Blair practically vibrates with joy. She looks up at me and says in a conspiratory whisper, “Best compliment you’ll ever get from him.”
“Well? Who the fuck is this Arnon guy?” Ledger demands, cutting straight to the chase.
Anchor shoots him a dark look that Ledger doesn’t back down from. Instead, he glares back with just as much ferocity. It’s almost impressive.
But mostly childish.
The silence grows thick with tension. A vein begins to bulge in Ledger’s forehead and while Anchor doesn’t visibly bristle—I swear I can feel the crackling of energy in the air around him.
Beside me, Blair sighs loudly.
I chuckle and nudge her side. “Eat while these two have a pissing contest.”
“Don’t,” Anchor says through clenched teeth as his head rotates in my direction. “Give my daughter an order.”
I smile at him. “If it’s in your daughter’s best interests, I absolutely will.”
“And I’ll follow it… sometimes,” Blair chimes in, giving her dad a pointed look as she lifts a rib up to gnaw on.
Anchor glares at her, his jaw ticking.
Then he glares at me and I swear I can hear his promise of death whisper in the back of my head.
“Relax, your daughter has us by the balls. She’s completely in charge here,” Santi says with a chuckle. Anchor glowers at him and he adds quickly. “Metaphorically speaking, of course.”
“Naw, sometimes she does actually hold them. Gets me real fucking hard when she fondles them,” Rhett says, knowing very well he’s wading into dangerous territory and not giving a single fuck about it.
Anchor’s hand disappears off the table, flying to his hip. Everyone else reacts, slower, but with their own hands going to their own weapons. Rhett, Ledger, and Santi all point their guns at Anchor. And Blair’s dad? His gun is pointed at Rhett’s forehead.
“Put it down, Anchor,” Ledger snarls.
“This filthy fucking animal doesn’t get to talk about my daughter so crudely.”
Rhett grins. “I’m the filthy one? You should see your daughter when she—”
Blair stands abruptly, interrupting him.
I’m on my feet next, shoving myself in the narrow space between Blair and the table to place my body between her and the four guns that swing in her direction—reacting instinctually to the movement. Simultaneously, the guns lower as everyone realizes their mistake.