Page 102 of All Along The Watchtower

Miles let out a bitter laugh that held no humor. “The feds are too busy chasing their own tails. I’m doing what I have to do to protect my family.” His shoulders sagged, the manic energy draining from him. “I don’t want to hurt either of you. Just hand over the flash drive.”

The gun lowered slightly, no longer aimed directly at us. My heart leaped into my throat as I caught movement behind him.

Oh God. Peyton stood in the hallway, her face pale but determined.

Every maternal instinct I possessed screamed at me to do something, anything, to keep her safe. I tensed, ready to throw myself between Miles and his target if he spotted her.

But Peyton moved on soundless feet, stepping up right behind him. “I have to protect my family, too.”

A sharp, electric crack split the air, followed by Miles’ body jerking and convulsing. The gun went off with a deafening bang, and I flinched back as drywall dust rained down from the ceiling. Ford sprang, tackling Miles. The gun clattered to the floor, and I kicked it out of reach. In seconds, it was over, the mayor face-down, arms twisted behind his back.

From where he knelt, knee pressing Miles’ still twitching body into the floor, Ford stared at his daughter in sheer disbelief. “Where the hell did you get a stun gun?”

Despite her pale face and the way she still clutched the device in her shaking hand, Peyton shrugged. “It was Mom’s. She always said you could never be too careful.”

My legs turned to jelly as the adrenaline drained away. I staggered over and wrapped my arms around Peyton. She slumped into me, and we sagged to the floor together. I squeezed her tight, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You did good, kid.”

“Somebody grab the duct tape from the junk drawer,” Ford ordered.

Peyton managed to scramble up to retrieve it, tossing it over to her father. He used it to bind Miles’ hands and legs. Then he called 911.

While he made his report to the dispatcher, I dragged myself back to my feet and finally turned off the oven. The toast inside had burnt to a crisp. I carried the stink of it out the back door and set it on the patio table. Then I pulled out a bowl and began cracking eggs.

At Peyton’s curious look, it was my turn to shrug. “Might as well have breakfast. It’s going to be a long night.”

CHAPTER 46

FORD

My kid was officially fourteen.

I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t been ready for so many things around fatherhood. The constant worry, the way my heart seemed to live outside my body now, the crushing weight of responsibility that came with every decision I made.

Peyton had bounced back from the events of the past couple of months with shocking ease, but I hadn’t been able to do the same. I was having a hard time letting her out of my sight, jumping at shadows and checking her bedroom door three times before going to bed myself. Thankfully, she was tolerating it well, only rolling her eyes a little when I insisted on taking her to school or picking her up from friends’ houses. Bree and Mom and Mimi had helped with that, creating a protective circle around her that made me feel less crazy for being so vigilant. As had Ed, who’d been released from the hospital in plenty of time to be here for today’s birthday party, his presence another anchor of stability in our newly reformed family unit.

He still had a long way to go with his recovery, but we were all circling around him like protective satellites, making sure he didn’t overdo it while still letting him maintain his dignity. He’d get through it, and his doctors were confident he’d make analmost full recovery as long as he stuck to the program and kept his stress levels down. That was going a lot better since he found out the Galef situation had been resolved. Turned out he’d made the same connection Peyton had right before his AFib attack. The shock of the whole thing sent him over the edge. If Peyton hadn’t grabbed his notes, we might never have known about any of it in time.

Right now, a promised deep sea fishing trip next summer was the carrot on a stick getting Ed through the year or more of rehab ahead. He was determined to catch a replacement for Marv, the marlin that had burned along with the original tavern, though we all knew nothing could truly replace that fish. It had been his pride and joy for over twenty years, mounted over the bar like a mascot. His own personal Moby Dick.

I scanned the yard again, taking in the cheerful chaos of the party. Picnic tables dotted the space between my cottage and Bree’s, festooned with balloons and streamers in Peyton’s favorite colors. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grass, and the breeze carried the scent of Mimi’s massive German chocolate cake. Keeley and Roy were playing a spirited game of keep away with a lime green frisbee.

My daughter’s laughter rang out as she and Madison huddled over something on Madison’s phone. Probably some social media thing I was too old to understand. Turned out there was nothing like acquiring a teenager to make you feel old in your thirties. Mom was deep in conversation with Gabi and Daniel about some environmental initiative, while Sawyer and Willa helped Mimi arrange the food spread, and Ed snuck appetizers off the platters of food near his chair of honor.

Bree caught my eye from where she was setting out plates, raising an eyebrow in silent question. She knew me too well. Knew I was still struggling to relax, even with Miles Busby behind bars and the flash drive safely in the hands of lawenforcement. The two men who’d taken Peyton and Madison had been arrested, and Daniel’s team had managed to snag the boat that had been running dark that night. I wasn’t privy to the details, but things were slowly being dismantled. I should have been satisfied with that.

But I wasn’t.

I forced myself to take a deep breath. This was Peyton’s day. She deserved to have it be perfect, unmarred by my lingering paranoia.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe it was the dad thing—this constant awareness that my kid could be hurt or taken from me. Or maybe it was the military training that had kept me alive all these years.

“Earth to Ford.” Bree’s hand slipped into mine. “She’s safe. We’re all safe.”

I squeezed her fingers, grateful she understood without me having to explain. “I know. Just can’t seem to turn it off.”

“Then let me help distract you.” She stretched up to press a kiss to my jaw. “Come help me with these plates before Mimi decides we’re being antisocial.”

That was definitely an appealing offer, but before I could take her up on it, my phone rang. I checked the display, and my stomach bottomed out at the sight of Langston’s name flashing across the screen.

---