Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Opening the toilet stall’s flimsy lock almost a fortnight later, I crossed to one of the sinks. Like the others, it was grimy and boasted weird-looking stains—much like the tiled floor. I felt my nose wrinkle.

The restroom at the gas station I frequented was not my favorite place, but my bladder had been screaming at me for release, so I’d taken a pit-stop on my way home. Too much coffee, I thought.

Not wanting to rest my purse on the wet counter, I kept it hooked over my shoulder as I washed my hands. The sound of water splattering against porcelain blended with the gurgling of a toilet and the weird noise coming from the exposed plumbing beneath the counter.

God, it reeked in here. Reeked of pee, vomit, bleach, and full-on shit. It didn’t help matters that the soap was unscented.

Catching sight of my reflection in the rusted mirror, I wasn’t pleased to find that I looked as tired as I felt. It had been a long-ass day that had involved more meetings than usual, and the latter one had lasted longer than expected.

At least I wasn’t sick anymore. I had unfortunately passed it on to several others, including Alicia and Sabrina. Dax, however, didn’t catch it. No, much as he’d insinuated, his immune system was made of pretty stern stuff.

Switching off the faucet, I shook my wet hands and then walked to the toilet paper dispenser. It was out of paper. Awesome. I tried the hand-drier, my lips thinning when it came to life with a weak whir of sound and did nothing more than cause air to flutter over my skin.

Eventually giving up on the drier, I left the restroom. The closer I headed to where I’d parked my car, the heavier the scents of gasoline, exhaust, motor oil, and sun-warmed pavement became. I had no complaints, since they chased the restroom-smells from my nose.

Much as I loved the summer, I couldn’t say I lamented that we’d crept into September. For one thing, it wasn’t quite as hot. For another, it would be October soon. I was a big fan of Halloween.

Rather than head straight to my vehicle, I grabbed two thin paper towels from the dispenser near the gas pumps and dried off my damp hands. Around me, engines idled, gas gurgled through hoses, and music filtered out of open car windows. But I still easily heard the bell above the station’s door chime.

I looked up as a trio of laughing teenage boys piled out holding drinks and snacks. I momentarily went very still, a curse hovering on the tip of my tongue. Because one of the boys was Blaise.

Not wanting a scene, I prayed he wouldn’t notice me. But apparently the universe was not on my side today. He did a double-take as his eyes caught mine, the amusement draining from his expression in a rush. His gaze chilled, his body stiffened, and his jaw set into a hard, unforgiving line.

Deciding to ignore him, I threw the balled-up paper towels into the trash can and then walked toward my car.

I didn’t make it there.

Blaise slipped into my path and planted his feet. His friends followed his lead, though they seemed to have no clue why he’d done it. A cold smile took hold of his lips as he cocked his head.

Don’t do it, kid, don’t do it, I silently willed. Just walk away.

“Well, if it isn’t my stepdad’s old whore,” he snarked.

I felt my lips part. That little son of a fucker.

His red-headed friend’s brows shot up in surprise. “That so?” Eyeing me from head to toe, he gave me a sleazy grin. “I can see why Grayden went there.” He elbowed the third boy. “Look at those tits, Glenn.”

“Real nice,” commented Glenn, staring at my cleavage. “Even bigger than your girl’s titties.”

God save me from hormonal teenage idiots. I met Blaise’s glare with one of my own. “Walk away.”

He didn’t. He pointed his energy drink at me in a sharp, accusing move. “Because of you, my mom lost her job. A job she’d had for years. Dax was behind it—I know he was. He did it for you.”

Huh. It wasn’t a major surprise. I’d thought it possible that he’d choose such a method of retaliation. My dad had been known to use it on occasion.

Not about to say anything that would implicate Dax, I only replied, “If he is behind it—and I’m not saying he is—she brought that on herself. You’ll bring something similar on yourself if you don’t quit this now.”

Blaise let out an ugly snicker. “I ain’t afraid of Dax.”

“I doubt that.”

“If he touches me even once, my Uncle Lowe will take his ass down,” Blaise gloated.

How typical that he’d consider himself safe to act like a shithead because he had someone who’d bail him out of trouble. I shook my head. “Lowe won’t be able to save you from Dax.” Even the sheriff himself would know that.

Glenn exchanged a nervous look with the third boy and then leaned toward Blaise. “She talking about Mercier?” he asked, a shaky note to his voice.

“Yes,” I confirmed, figuring that Blaise’s friends deserved the chance to remove themselves from the situation since all they’d really done was make inappropriate sexual comments.

Their eyes widening, the two began to back away, passing the side of my car as they did so.

I resettled my gaze on Blaise. “You should be smart like your buddies there and move. This scene here won’t impress your mom. All you’re doing is focusing Dax’s attention back on your family. She won’t want that. Neither should you.”

He sneered. “What she doesn’t want is some bitch pining after what’s hers. You want to steal Grayden from her again. Don’t know why, because he’s a piece of shit in my opinion.”

I didn’t bother pointing out that I hadn’t “stolen” Grayden from her at all; that he and Felicity had been separated back when he and I got together—Blaise knew that already. “If I wanted him, I wouldn’t have married Dax, would I?”

“How the hell did you even pull that off, anyway? Well, I’m betting he’s regretting it. Now he’s stuck with a shit-stirring skank who’s turned him against his own family.”

I almost crossed my eyes. He acted as if Dax and Felicity had been close all their lives until now. Not about to explain myself to some snotty-nosed kid, I flicked up a brow. “Are you done? Or would you like to make this even worse for yourself?”

I thought he’d probably choose the latter option, but a smirk pulled at his mouth as he held up one hand in a gesture of peace. “I guess I’m done.”

Blaise backed away, taking the exact path that his friends had. As he approached my car, he dug something out of his pocket. There was a slight screeching sound as—motherfucker—he keyed my goddamn car. He stopped near my front passenger window as something caught his attention. Shit, I’d left it open a few inches.He pocketed his keys, opened his bottle, and then tipped a good portion of his drink through the gap.

Grinding my teeth, I glared at the little shit, wishing I was close enough that I could whack him over the head with my purse.

His smirk widening, he said, “Whoops. Sorry about that.”

Oh, someone needed to tan his ass. And someone would. Because I wasn’t going to protect him from consequences this time. “Bad idea, Blaise.”

He only laughed and then jogged over to his friends. He wouldn’t be laughing for long.

Striding over to my car with angry steps, I yanked open the front passenger door and glanced inside. My mouth went so tight my lips trembled. The nearest seat was covered in orange liquid, which was also dripping down the inside of the door and soaking the carpet. Motherfucker.

I took a step back, feeling my nostrils flare. No amount of thin-ass paper towels were going to be of any help, so it would be best to hurry home and deal with the mess there. I shut the door and then examined the groove in the paintwork left by his key. It was one hell of a deep scratch. My anger ramping up, I clenched my fists and cursed beneath my breath.

Since there was no way I could plonk my purse on the passenger seat as usual, I tucked it behind the driver’s seat and then hopped in. Closing the door, I started the engine and lowered all my windows—the goddamn air in the car stank of the tangy orange drink.

As I drove, I fought for some measure of calm. I didn’t find it. He’d gone too far this time.

Insulting and bitching at me was bad enough. But while neither were acceptable, they weren’t anything I hadn’t dealt with before. For Blaise to damage my property, however, was a whole other matter.

And completely unnecessary.

He’d said his piece. He’d vented plenty. That should have been enough for him. But no, he’d taken it that step further just to be a prick.

Dax would not be happy. Not at all. But I wasn’t going to ask him for lenience here.

I’d given Blaise a chance once before, despite Sabrina’s advice. But he hadn’t stopped at graffitiing the parking sign outside my work building. No, he’d escalated. Not merely by targeting my personal property as opposed to something assigned to me, but by doing it right in front of me rather than in the dead of night while alone.

It was cocky. Mean. Vindictive. An indication that there might possibly be no end to his destructive behavior unless someone stepped in and put a stop to it.

Both Felicity and Grayden had been given the opportunity to do that. Maybe they’d tried, maybe they hadn’t. Either way, their influence over him clearly wasn’t enough to keep him from crossing criminal lines. I wasn’t going to give Blaise the opportunity to target me or my belongings again.

Pulling into my driveway, I saw that Dax wasn’t home yet. He’d earlier notified me that he’d be home later than usual, so it was no shock.

Not wanting to waste any time tackling the orange stains, I swiftly changed clothes, grabbed the cleaning products from the kitchen, pulled on rubber gloves, and then quickly got to work.

The stain proved a bitch to remove from the seat, so my arm was aching when Dax finally whipped his car into the driveway a short time later. Blowing out a breath, I dropped the bristle brush on the seat and then straightened. My body should have become desensitized to his appeal by now, right? Well, it hadn’t. Not even close.

Still, my hormones didn’t have constant meltdowns around him these days. But there were moments when he’d do something that would make them sigh in appreciation. Like now, as he smoothly unfolded from the car with a powerfully masculine grace.

No shufflingor hopping or edging or pushing out of his seat. It was as if he flowed out of it, fluid as water. And then he stood there all tall and intense and suited-up, like he owned the freaking world or something.

He stalked toward me and rounded the hood of my car. As he took in the scene, his brow slightly puckered. “I take it you spilled something.”

“No. Well, there was a spill,” I explained, removing my gloves. “But I’m not the one responsible. And it wasn’t an accident.”

His gaze narrowed, and his posture tensed. “Go on.”

With a weary sigh, I rested my gloves on the car roof. “Blaise chose to be a dick again.”

Something dark moved behind Dax’s eyes. “Elaborate.” The command was low, rumbly, menacing.

“I just saw him at the gas station. He was with two of his friends. He said some not-so-pleasant things to me.”

“Such as?”

I propped my hands on my hips. “He called me his ‘stepdad’s old whore.’ He blames me for how you cost Felicity her job and also claims I’m a ‘shit-stirring skank’ who made you turn against your own family.”

Dax’s jaw went so tight I would bet it hurt. He cast the partially removed stain on the passenger seat a hard look. “He did this?”

I nodded. “He poured some of his drink through my open window accidentally-on-purpose as he was walking away. Also”—I pointed at the scratch in the silver paint—“he thought it a groovy idea to key my car as well.”

Dax bent to take a thorough look at it. A stony, pitiless look descended over his face, making my scalp prickle.

“He’s not worried he’ll face any consequences, because he believes Lowe will protect him from you.”

“He’s mistaken,” said Dax, his voice a razor-sharp blade. Straightening, he pulled his cell out of his pocket, thumbed the screen a few times, and then put the phone to his ear. “Find Blaise Buchanan,” he ordered whoever answered the call. “A conversation needs to be had. You know where to take him.” He abruptly hung up.

Dax did that sometimes. Called someone. Dished out an order. Ended the call. And would tell me they were “employees of a sort.”

I jolted out of my thoughts as he began prowling back to his car. I followed after him. “What are you going to do?” No response. “Dax?”

“I’m going to ensure he never so much as considers repeating his actions.”

“How, exactly?”

He pulled open the driver’s door. “Don’t expect answers to questions like that, Addison.”

“Why not?”

His gaze latched onto mine, so serious and unyielding. “I deal with things my way. That will never change. Neither will the fact that I won’t speak of such matters to you. I don’t intend for that side of my life to touch you. Ever.”

I felt it was more of a case that he didn’t want to ever expose that side of himself to me. The violent side that was never able to rely on the justice system so personally settled any scores. A side that clearly awaited judgement from me—it was written all over his face.

I could assure Dax that I’d never condemn him, but I wasn’t sure he’d believe me. Not after comments he’d made to me in the past, and not after all that Brooks had explained to me. It would need to be something I showed Dax—possibly over a period of time.

Intending to start that right now, I said,“Okay. Just don’t get caught.”

His eyes raked over my face, absorbing every detail, most likely searching for some hint of uneasiness—or maybe even plain ole deceit. Finally, he shoved his car door open a little wider and said, “I’ll be home in a couple of hours. Eat without me.”

As if I’d do that when he was out there avenging a slight to me. “I’ll wait until you come back. We’ll eat together like we always do.”

Again, he gave me a long, searching look. With a curt nod, he then got into his vehicle and left.

Sure I’d be on pins until he returned, I knew it would be best to keep myself occupied. So I finished scrubbing away the stains from my car, took a shower to rid my skin of the astringent scent of the cleaning products, and then vented about the Blaise incident to my sisters and Sabrina via video call while I sat around in my sweats.

They were all as furious as they were certain that Dax would retaliate on my behalf, but I didn’t confirm that he was doing exactly that as we spoke. Not even to the people closest to me would I ever say anything that would incriminate him.

When I saw through the living room window that Dax had returned, I ended the call and slipped off the sofa. I padded into the hallway just as he walked through the front door. I took stock of him. Unbelievable as it might seem, he was the picture of unruffled.

There was no anger in his eyes. No wrinkles or stains on his suit. No indication at all that he’d just had a violent encounter—not even marks on his knuckles. Whatever he’d used to beat Blaise, it hadn’t been his fists … unless he’d somehow covered them.

“He won’t bother you again,” said Dax, his voice as cool and calm as the vibe he exuded. He slipped by me, strolled into the living room, and poured himself a whiskey at the vintage liquor cabinet there.

Much as I’d like to prod him for some details, I saw no point—he wouldn’t tell me jack. “He might report you to Lowe.”

Dax knocked back some of his drink. “No, he won’t.” A confident statement.

I felt my brow crease. “I know people generally don’t speak up against you. But Blaise is different. He believes Lowe is his guardian angel.”

“Blaise considered himself untouchable before. Not now. Tonight was probably the first time in his life he’s ever truly been held accountable for his actions. He wasn’t expecting it. Didn’t know how bad it could be. Now he does. Now he knows he isn’t ready to take me on.” Dax took another swig of his whiskey. “He won’t want me to come for him again. I warned him I would if he talked.”

Hopefully Dax was right to be so certain. And hopefully he’d one day stop looking at me the way he was looking at me right now—like he was expecting both rejection and condemnation.

Did I like that he’d taken the law into his own hands and beat the piss out of someone? No. But nor did I blame him.

“Thank you for dealing with it,” I said. “He would have kept this shit up if you hadn’t, and it would have been worse next time.”

Something flickered in Dax’s eyes. Surprise, maybe.

“Felicity and Grayden will guess it was you,” I added. “It won’t matter if Blaise insists you weren’t responsible, or if he doesn’t tell them about the gas station incident—something which would definitely give you motive—because not a lot of people would ignore his connection to the sheriff.”

Dax conceded that with an unconcerned tilt of his head. “I suspect I’ll be contacted by Felicity at some point this evening. She might not be the most pleasant of individuals, but she loves her children; she’ll want to have her say, though I doubt she’ll come here.”

Yeah, she wasn’t quite that brave. “She has your cell number, right?”

“No.”

“But you’ve called her in the past.”

“I withheld my number each time. She and Grayden both have my business email address, however.”

It didn’t seem likely to me that she’d be satisfied with simply sending an email-rant to Dax, given her motherly protective instincts would be on fire. “It’s a shame she wasn’t able to get him under her control. Then it would never have come to this. But maybe a life lesson will do Blaise’s warped inner child some good.”

Dax gave a loose shrug. “Maybe.”

Watching him toss back another gulp of whiskey, I asked, “Are you ready to chow down some dinner?”

His eyes went slitted. “You waited for me?”

“I told you I would.” He apparently hadn’t been so certain I’d actually do it, though.

After several moments of silence, he pursed his lips. “I could eat.”

“Then let’s order it now.”

Our meal was a relatively quiet affair. He spent a good portion of the time giving me long looks—some dubious, some probing, some cautious, and some totally inscrutable.

I’d responded several times with a questioning brow, narrowing of my eyes, or an impatiently barked, “What?” Each response from him had been a simple shake of the head.

We were piling the dishware back on the trolley on which they’d arrived, courtesy of one of the staff, when his cell phone rang.

He nabbed it from the kitchen table and answered, “What do you want?”

Ah, so it was one of his brothers. They had a habit of answering each other’s calls with mock rudeness.

His brows slowly arched. “Are they now?” he asked, a lazy menace in his tone. “Put her on.” He tapped his thumb on the phone screen, placing it on speakerphone.

“You did it,” accused Felicity, a tremble to her voice—maybe of rage, maybe of nervousness, maybe of both.

“Did what?” Dax asked, nonchalant.

“You know what,” she practically bit out.

“I don’t play guessing games, Felicity. Be direct, or hand the phone back to Caelan.”

Oh, she’d apparently gone to Caelan in the hope that she could contact Dax via him.

“My son is a mess,” she spat. “Bruised, bloody, terrified. I can barely get a word out of him. He won’t say who hurt him, but it could only have been you.”

Dax leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Why is that? Surely you’re not oblivious to how many people in Redwater he’s wronged in some way, always banking on Lowe to get him out of trouble.”

“It was you,” she insisted, the shake in her voice more prominent now. “I don’t know how you managed to cover him in bruises without breaking a single bone, but only someone who’s no stranger to giving a beating would be able to do that.”

“So it must automatically be me?”

“I spoke to his friends. They told me he had a run-in with Addison.” She spoke my name like it offended her. “You punished Blaise. Traumatized him. How could you do that to him, Dax? He’s your blood.”

“I’m not certain why you’d say that as if it means something. It clearly means not one thing to him—he would have steered clear of my wife if it did.”

A pause. “I don’t know what’s worse. That you could hurt him—a teenage boy, your own cousin—the way you did, or that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. People are right in what they say about you. You have no soul.”

Anger rushed through my veins. Bitch.

His lips hitched up. “The thought of a teenage boy being harmed upsets you, does it? How easily you forget the times you came to me asking that I scare off someone who gave Blaise trouble. They were boys, too. They were someone’s son. That didn’t bother you.”

She spluttered. “You stay away from Blaise.”

“You keep him away from Addison.” Or he’ll pay went left unsaid but was heard in Dax’s tone.

There was a slight shuffling sound, and then a male sigh drifted down the phone.

“They’re gone,” said Caelan. “I would have told them to fuck off when she came banging on my door asking for your number, but I didn’t want them showing up at your place. Grayden was trying to calm her down but it wasn’t working. I think he only came with her because he was worried she’d do something to land herself in shit. What exactly happened between Addison and Blaise?”

Dax relayed the incident, his voice remaining calm even when anger occasionally flared in his eyes. “Felicity is seemingly convinced that I’m responsible for whatever happened to Blaise,” he added.

From what I’d observed, he never said anything over the phone that could link him to any crime. Neither did his family, so I wasn’t surprised when Caelan responded, “Maybe whoever beat the crap out of him was banking on that. It was inevitable that someone would choose to teach him a lesson at some point—he’s made a lot of enemies.”

“That he has,” agreed Dax.

As he continued to speak with his brother, despite the dark emotions still roiling in my system, I found myself wanting to smile. Why? Because a few weeks ago, Dax wouldn’t have put the call on speakerphone. Hell, he might have even left the room to take the call; might have afterwards given me a bullet point version of it.

Tonight, he’d included me. Such a minor thing for others, but not for him. Not for this guarded, self-contained person who didn’t like—or feel the need—to involve people, even if his personal business in that case somehow related to them. He was just so solitary, such a go-it-alone individual.

Finally, Dax rounded up the conversation and hung up the phone. “I suppose I should have expected that Felicity would ask someone for my number.”

“I get that she’s upset—any mom would be if their son was beaten—and I don’t blame her for it. But I am pissed at her for the crap she spouted just now. People do that to you far too often.”

“What?”

“Skip over their part in why you targeted them; say stuff like you have no soul.” The kind of thing they’d also said about Michael Bale, as if Dax’s actions in any way compared to those of a goddamn mass murderer. “The weight of what happened tonight doesn’t fall on you.”

Dax pushed away from the counter, his expression unreadable. “Not the full weight, but some of it does. After all, I could have handled the situation any number of ways.”

“But Blaise knew what path you’d likely take; he knew what he was risking. He did it anyway.”

Dax tipped his head to the side. “You don’t wonder if maybe those people are right?” he asked, his voice flat. “You don’t wonder if maybe there’s something missing in me? I feel no guilt over what I did tonight. I never do after I hurt someone.”

“But you’re only ever striking back at them. You don’t go round kicking the shit out of random people. And no, I don’t wonder if something’s missing in you. There’s nothing at all wrong with you. And fuck anyone who says differently.”

Something built in his eyes—an emotion I couldn’t quite identify. He pointed at the floor in front of him. “Come here,” he softly bid.

Swallowing, I covered the distance between us in just four steps.

He took a strand of my damp hair and twined it around his finger. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe, like Little Red Riding Hood, you don’t see the big, bad wolf in front of you. Maybe you don’t really want to see him, so you tell yourself he’s not there.”

I swiped my tongue along the inside of my bottom lip. “I see him. As wolves go, he’s pretty intimidating. Dangerous for sure. But not soulless. And, well, I kind of like him.”

His eyes fairly crackling with that indefinable emotion, Dax lowered his mouth to mine. Almost to mine. With mere inches between our lips, he said, “Good. He kind of likes you, too.”