Weston's Treasure

by Riley Edwards

  “Straight up, Dale, I don’t care what you believe. My only concern is Silver. Bottom line, we can’t make you keep quiet about what Silver has explained. But I can promise you if you run your mouth and tell anyone where she is, the threat level that is already high, goes up exponentially. That doesn’t mean I can’t and won’t keep her safe, it just means you will have made my job harder. That’s your choice. What isn’t, is forcing Silver to do something she’s repeatedly told you she’s not going to do. I couldn’t give the first fuck, you want to question my or my team’s motives. Again, your opinion doesn’t matter. What does is Silver’s. And to that end, if you wanna stand here and argue with her, upsetting her more, then you’re done and you can leave.”

  Dale’s face turned a shade of red Weston had never seen. And for a moment he hoped the man didn’t have high blood pressure. But as soon as Dale opened his mouth, all worries about the man having a stroke vanished.

  “After everything I’ve done for you, Scout, you’re gonna let some man you barely know speak to your father that way? I should’ve known—”

  “You’re done. No more talking.” Weston turned to Silver. “Babe, do me a favor, yeah? Go on upstairs and give me a minute with your dad.”

  “Sure.”

  Easy.

  No argument.

  Defeat.

  That was when Weston knew the blow her father had dealt was painful. Not only that but it sliced deep. Which made what was going to come next all that much easier.

  “Scout—”

  “Do not speak,” Weston growled and waited until Silver hit the top of the stairs then disappeared out of sight. “There’s a hotel in town. I suggest you find it, check in, and spend some time reflecting on what you just did to your daughter. If you come back here tomorrow and you haven’t sorted your shit, I’ll put you out again.”

  “You have no right to tell me what to do with my daughter. And I’m not leaving here without her. I don’t know what you’ve done to her, but you’ve turned her against me and I don’t—”

  “You’re wrong. As the man who sleeps next to her, I have every right to protect her. And if you think anyone can make Silver do anything she doesn’t want to do, you don’t know your daughter. Silver’s in danger, she’s stressed, she’s worried, she’s lost damn near everything she owns, yet she’s still standing strong, doing her part to take millions of dollars of drugs off the street. She is brave beyond belief. Yet in twenty minutes you’ve successfully brought her more stress, more worry, and laid your bullshit on her shoulders. And just to point out, for a man who was so worried his child had supposedly been missing, worried enough he high-tailed his ass all the way up to Delaware, you have to know what you just did to her was jacked. And the icing on that is, you didn’t even touch her. Not even when she told you she’d been held against her will did you pull her into your arms and hold her. Not when she told you her apartment was trashed, did you hug her. That’s not jacked—that’s plain fucked-up.”

  “So, that’s it. You’re sleeping with my daughter—”

  “Christ,” Weston bit out. “Listen to yourself. Out of everything I just told you that’s what you want to latch on to? You have two minutes to walk out that door on your own, before I put you out. Go sort your shit and we’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “If you think you threatening me with physical violence makes me want to leave my daughter with you, you’re wrong. Obviously, you’re a dangerous man.”

  Weston was trying to draw from every reserve he had. But he was fresh out of patience. Couldn’t find an ounce of care. And couldn’t muster any consideration for the man. He had nothing. Dale was selfish, inconsiderate, and a dick.

  It was a miracle Silver had survived her mother’s verbal attacks, but if Dale’s current behavior was how he’d treated his daughter when she was growing up, Silver wasn’t a miracle—she was a goddamned phenomenon.

  Treasure.

  “You’re right, I am dangerous. And you should be thrilled I’m the man standing by your daughter. You should go home and rest easy, safe in the knowledge I will protect her—even from you. I don’t threaten physical violence, I’ll enact it. And the only reason why I gave you two minutes to walk out on your own was out of respect for Silver. But you’re down to sixty seconds and I suggest you use your time wisely.”

  And the standoff ensued. Weston unmoving, arms crossed over his chest. Dale Coyle stubbornly staring at him. The whole scene was as ridiculous as it could be. So ridiculous Weston would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so angry. How the fuck could a father be so callous? How could a man who was supposed to love his child be so selfish?

  Questions Weston knew he wouldn’t get the answers to, so he gave up, broke the standoff, and turned to Nixon.

  “Your house, your call. I’m going up to check on my woman. Neither of us is coming down until he’s gone.”

  Giving Dale not a second more of his time, Weston moved to the stairs.

  “I’m calling the police.” That was Dale. Weston didn’t know who he was talking to and didn’t give a fuck.

  He was done.

  He’d said what he had to say and now it was up to Dale to clue in or not. If he didn’t, Weston would make it so the man wasn’t around Silver until the op was over—and even after that, he’d wade in when it was necessary. Weston wasn’t stupid, he also wasn’t a dick so he’d never dream of trying to keep father and daughter apart. But what he would do and planned on doing was making sure Silver didn’t get cut up in the process.

  That was the last time he’d watch Silver take a hit that put sadness in her eyes.

  18

  I heard.

  Everything.

  Every word Weston had said to my father after he’d asked me to go upstairs.

  I didn’t question him or put up a fight mainly because I was so embarrassed by my dad’s antics. I wanted to run away and disappear or hit my dad over the head with a lamp. I couldn’t believe he’d behaved like that, and that was saying something because my dad was pretty melodramatic and over-the-top. There’d never been a time where he wasn’t.

  When he and my mom argued it got dirty, but Dad was normally the one to back down because there was no winning with my mother.

  “Hey.” Weston’s voice filled the room and my eyes closed.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You got nothing to be sorry for.”

  “Yeah, I do. That was embarrassing.”

  “I agree. For him, not for you.”

  That was nice of Weston to say, but we both knew that wasn’t true. Dale was my father. My blood. The man who made me and raised me. I was a direct reflection of him, and him of me. Either way, it said nothing good about me.

  “Is he still down there?”

  “He was when I came up,” Weston told me and shut the door to his bedroom. “You all right?”

  “No.”

  My honest answer did something funny. His lips tipped up but the gesture died before it turned into a smile. Warmth and understanding swept over him and I wasn’t sure how I knew that’s what he was feeling, but I did.

  Not only did I know it but I could feel it. The crackle in the air, the unconcealed concern, the anger on my behalf.

  Weston didn’t wait, he didn’t stop to ask more questions, he didn’t tell me everything was going to be okay, he didn’t tell me not to be upset or I had nothing to worry about. He simply closed the space between us and pulled me into his arms. Something he’d pointed out my father hadn’t done.

  Once my cheek was resting on his chest and his big arms went around my shoulders, I wrapped mine around his middle and held on. And for the first time since Nixon’s call from Alec about my dad calling the police, I felt safe. Protected. Cocooned. Nothing could touch me if Weston was around.

  “Do you think I’m desperate?” I blurted out, and when Weston stiffened I regretted my outburst. “That didn’t come out right.”

  “I sure as fuck hope it didn’t. Wanna explain what you meant?”
/>
  “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “Then don’t say stupid shit.”

  That had me stiffening and a little pissed.

  “I’m not saying stupid shit, I’m telling you how I feel. How is that stupid?”

  “It’s stupid if you’re getting ready to try and convince me you’re desperate.”

  The ‘little’ went out of the little pissed and I moved straight to pissed.

  “Well, I’m kinda acting like I am don’t you think? I mean, here I am latched onto you like some desperate, lonely fool, thinking that as long as you’re around no one can hurt me when I should be standing up for myself.”

  Some of the stiffness from his body waned but the hardness of his voice remained.

  “First, pleased you recognize that you are always safe when you’re with me. Can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you trust me to do that for you. Second, even more satisfied you’ve latched on, because, sweetheart, I wasn’t gonna give you a choice about that. And, Silver, you are no fool. Not when it comes to me, not when it comes to your dad. You knew he was diggin’ in, you know he’s stubborn, and you saw the wisdom in extraditing yourself from the situation. That is not weak, that is not desperate, that is you being smart and strong and knowing when to cut your losses and walk the fuck away before shit gets worse. So no, I do not think you’re desperate. I don’t think you’re easy. I don’t think you’re a lonely fool. But I do think you are a beautiful, intelligent woman, who had the misfortune of having two assholes for parents.”

  I was silent because I was savoring what Weston said but at the same time, I found it annoying he could make me feel like I was all the things he said I was when I was angry at him. Not that I remembered why I was pissed to begin with. Which was annoying as well.

  “Why is he so hell-bent on you taking over his business?”

  “He wants to retire,” I semi-lied.

  “No masks, Silver.”

  “How do you do that?” I fumed. “It’s exasperating.’

  “What is? That I know when you’re trying to hide from me by giving me partial truths?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “It’s a gift,” he joked.

  “Annoying.”

  With his arms still firmly wrapped around me, I felt his body shaking with laughter and I really wished I could see his face. I bet he was smiling. Not one of his soft smiles that I loved, but the one I arguably liked better. The one that was full of humor and amusement. Because that one was also soft and sweet but a different soft, and he only smiled that one at me.

  “Noted. So why is he pushing you?”

  At his question, all the good and fuzzy feelings I was enjoying vanished. I didn’t want to talk about my dad and I didn’t want to have to explain the dysfunction.

  “Can we—?”

  “Tell me.”

  “But—”

  “Just get it over with so we can move on.”

  Annoying.

  “Fine,” I snapped. “He wants me to take over because my mother would hate it.”

  “Thought they didn’t talk.”

  “They don’t. But it doesn’t mean she isn’t up in his business and that he doesn’t keep tabs on hers.”

  “What does that even mean, babe?”

  “It means my mother’s remarried. And I heard that from my dad, not from her. Apparently, he’s some wealthy yacht broker who also dips into headhunting for crew and captains. That means he knows the business and knows what my dad’s doing. My dad has a lot of friends, again all in the business. He knew the second my mom got engaged and to whom. So if I took over my dad’s charter business my mother would know and it would crawl under her skin. He’d win. It’s ridiculous, but there you have it.”

  “Win?”

  “Yes, win in the battle of who was right and who was wrong when it came to all things Silver. Though my dad’s forgetting something. If I take over, my mom will be right.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Because she always said I’d turn into him, a loser with nothing to my name but a pocket full adventures that didn’t amount to shit.”

  “She said that?”

  This time when I felt Weston’s body shaking, it definitely wasn’t from humor.

  “My dad is at the top of the list of what she hates most. I think I’m number two but only because there is a lot she hates about my dad. When they divorced, she told him he could keep me because he’d already ruined me and there was no hope of turning me into anything more than what I already was.”

  “Silver, that is so fucked-up I’m at a loss. Actually, that’s a lie. However, since beating the hell out of a woman isn’t an option, all I can say is—she shows up, I will not go as gentle on her as I did your father.”

  “That’s just her.”

  “No, sweetheart, it’s not just her. Everything she ever said to you was the ramblings of a vile, jealous bitch. There is no excuse for her behavior. None. But the problem is, all her nasty poison is still inside of you. It’s simmering below the surface, smoldering, just waiting to detonate. That’s what she gave you—toxic waste.”

  “I agree. It is inside of me. It is toxic and I don’t want it to spill over onto you. I told you that. I told you I wasn’t good for you, I told you I didn’t know how to do this without my poison leaking into your life. And it has.”

  “And I told you, Silver, now I see I need to remind you of something. It is not lost on me, that viper who carried you in her body, only to give life to a stunning, strong woman, then did her best to feed you shit, left you with scars. I’m now seeing your father did his own damage. But I told you, I’m gonna unravel that. And I wasn’t lying then and I’m not lying now—you give me your time and your trust and I’ll dig it out. All of it.”

  And that was when it hit me—everything. It all came crumbling down, the shaky hold I had on my sanity. The tears started, and once they did, I didn’t know how to turn them off. I hadn’t cried over my mother since the day she took off for good. She didn’t say she wouldn’t be back, but I knew. It was the way she’d said goodbye. I’d gone down to my stateroom, hid from my dad, and cried.

  But after that, no more. I’d set out to prove I was not what she said I was. But Weston was right, her poison was simmering. It came out a hundred times a day in a hundred different ways. Every decision I’d made my whole life was with her in mind.

  Suddenly Weston’s arms were no longer around me. He bent, his arm went under my legs, he scooped me up, and carried me to the bed. I was still trying to process how he’d pulled off the fireman’s hold when he settled himself on the mattress, his back to the headboard, and me in his lap. Through all of this, he said nothing. But he didn’t need to—his actions, the way he was holding me, the kiss he’d placed on the top of my head—told me more than any words ever could.

  “Why does she hate me so much?” I whispered.

  “She doesn’t.”

  “Did you not hear what I just told you?”

  “Every. Single. Fucked-up. Word. But she doesn’t hate you. She hates herself. She hates her life. She hates the woman she sees in the mirror. She hates the choices she made. She hates that something so precious and beautiful came out of those choices. Instead of setting aside her self-loathing and learning to be a good mom, she set out to destroy that beauty. But she failed, Silver.”

  I sat quietly, my head against Weston’s shoulder, and thought about what he said. I’d never considered my mother’s issues were her own. When I was younger, my dad had told me stories, he would smile and laugh and tell me how much fun he and my mom used to have. He’d say, “Scout, you wouldn’t believe it, your mom, so beautiful. Always smiling and having a good time.” That was not the woman I remembered. She was always hyper-critical. Always scowling. Always complaining.

  “Maybe,” I whispered.

  “Why does your dad call you Scout?”

  I smiled hearing Weston say my dad’s silly nickname for me. He used to say it with a smil
e, pride and happiness, not like he had downstairs.

  “My dad’s not normally that bad,” I started to explain. “Well, he’s always dramatic and irritating when he wants his way. But mostly growing up he showed me love. I think I was about five when he started teaching me to read charts. Dad was searching for an old Portuguese merchant vessel that had sunk in the Strait of Malacca. He was plotting the next day’s dive and I off-handily—because I was five—told him to move his dive to a new location. He humored me and found the wreck and the five coffers of jewels and silver. After that, he called me his good luck charm and nicknamed me Scout.”

  “I take it from that, you traveled a lot.”

  “I’ve motored around the world more than once. More like six times, and been to every continent and most islands.”

  Weston’s arms tightened around me. “Interesting childhood you had. More adventures than most people could dream of.”

  It’s funny. What some would consider adventures I’d considered mundane, boring, torture. Being stuck on a boat for days, sometimes weeks, with no dry land in sight. Scary storms where I thought we were going to die, rationing food because we had to take a detour, no friends, no TV, no normalcy. There were times I’d loved it, but mostly I’d hated it.

  I wanted to go to school like a normal teenager. I wanted a boyfriend. I wanted girls I could gossip with. When you grow up in a bubble, you have a skewed sense of reality. When your only insight into high school was watching old episodes of 90210 or Saved by the Bell you believe that Brenda Walsh’s and Dylan McKay’s really exist. You long to have a friendship like Brenda, Kelly, and Donna. You dream of walking into the Peach Pit or The Max.

  I never had that.

  “It was lonely,” I admitted. “And when I got to college, I didn’t fit in. I had no social skills, I didn’t know how to make friends, and I was too trusting. I didn’t know that people were so mean to each other. Everything was new and shocking. I was a new kind of lonely. Lost in a sea of people and I was invisible.”

  “You’re not invisible anymore.” Weston’s gruff voice made me smile.