Chapter 40 #3
Stepping out of the second SUV is a man in a slick looking suit and an oily smile. He’s around my age but much cleaner cut and polished. He’s got a strong build but somehow managed to make it look sophisticated in his fancy attire.
“Dear God, is that Ledger Porter?” the man says, his eyes widening in surprise. “It is! Ledger, what a pleasant surprise.”
I glare at him. “Dixie, I’m guessing?”
While his smile doesn’t falter, something dark flashes in his eyes. “I prefer Arnon, now.”
“Do you?” I deadpan. “Huh, I don’t give a fuck.”
“You don’t remember me, do you?” Dixie tilts his head to the side and his mouth twitches like he might frown.
He doesn’t, though. That ugly smile stays locked in place.
“No.”
“I’m not surprised. You were much too good to hang out with the likes of me when we did a short tour together, back in the day,” he drawls, his smile widening.
“Looks like you and I are on very different paths now, huh? Me, on my way to a congressional seat by this time next year, and you? Well, you’ll be maggot infested soon enough.
I’m curious, though. What are you doing here?
This doesn’t involve you. Unless…” he tilts his head to the side.
“Are you here for the bounty? I hope not. Beauford here gets to lay claim on that woman in your arms.”
I don’t respond.
Dixie’s eyes narrow, obviously displeased by my silence.
“I should apologize for my men who kept showing up onto your property. We just figured it was somewhere that beautiful piece of ass in your hands would’ve found easy to hide on,” Dixie continues.
My right eye twitches as rage, unlike anything I've ever felt before, wells up.
My godchild has been reduced to a piece of ass?
“I’d let you go but you just—” Dixie waves a dismissive hand at the flattened house. “—took out way too many of my people to overlook.”
I glare at him. “If I apologize, any chance you’d let me walk away?”
Dixie shakes his head. “No.”
“Fine. It wouldn’t have been sincere, anyway.”
He chuckles. “Well, it was a pleasure seeing you again after all these years, Ledger, but I’ve got to get going before the authorities arrive. I can’t have this sort of thing on my record. If you could hand over the girl without any fuss, it would be appreciated.”
I open my mouth to tell him he’ll have to pry Blair out of my cold dead hands but I’m interrupted by gunshots.
The first two come from Santiago, who emerges from the woods behind all the men at Dixie’s back.
Two sentries go down. As the rest react, turning to face the threat that’s approached without their knowledge, Rhett appears next.
He steps out of the woods, his own gun raised, and takes out the last three.
Beauford, Dixie’s lap dog, twists around and raises his gun to shoot them both. At the same time a large body leaps from the woods and tackles the asshole to the ground.
Wes.
Quickly, my friend disarms the man.
But he’s not done yet.
Wes pulls the knife from its sheath at his side and slams it down into the man’s face with enough force that I can hear the crack of bone as the young mercenary’s face caves in.
That’s not enough for Wes though, even as his victim’s body goes limp.
He pulls his knife free only to slam it into the asshole’s face over and over again.
Blood goes flying.
With it, flesh and cartilage.
His arm moves so fast up and down that it takes seconds for there not to be a face left to cut up. When he’s done, he gets to his feet, breathing heavily. He puts himself between me and Dixie.
“Who the fuck are you?” Dixie demands, pulling out his own gun as he realizes all the men he hired to protect him are dead.
I don’t know if Wes ever intended to answer or not. But it doesn’t matter because a shot rings out—capturing all our attention.
For four very long seconds, nothing happens.
Turns out, that’s because the bullet had quite some distance to travel. It enters into one side of Dixie’s temple and exits the other side. His eyes widen in surprise, his jaw goes slack. Beneath him, Dixie’s legs give out and he crumbles to the ground.
Gone.
The fucking bastard who’d thrown everything at Blair and Anchor to kill them is finally fucking dead.
No one takes the time to celebrate.
Nor do they ask who made that shot—we all know it could’ve only been one person. While we might’ve told him to stay home, Anchor showed up for his daughter and made sure to put an end to the threat on her life.
The others converge on me at once.
“Christ! Get the tape off her mouth!” Wes says, already moving to do so. He pulls at a frayed end and unwraps it around her head. Blair doesn’t stir.
Rhett turns sheet white as he pulls out his bloody knife and slices through the ropes around her wrists and ankles. I don’t miss the way his hands tremble.
“She’s not dead, is she?” Santi asks, his voice strained.
I brush past him and everyone else. “No, but we need to get moving now. There’s oxygen and blood bags down in the basement back at the cabin that we’ll need ASAP.”
Breaking out into a jog, I hurry down the driveway—no longer needing to worry about if there are any lingering threats.
The others have taken care of the danger.
Now, together, we’ll have to take care of Blair.