Page 116 of Mountain Daddy

“I won't.” He concentrates on the water. “Did you know sharks can't stop swimming or they'll die?”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. Their bones would sink to the bottom. Like rocks.” He demonstrates by dropping a pebble into the water. “Plop!”

I smile despite myself. Despite the danger I know surrounds us. “You're pretty smart, kid.”

“Mama says I get it from her,” he says, then looks up at me with those eyes—my eyes. “But maybe I get it from you too?”

The question punches through me.

“Maybe you do,” I say quietly.

He nods, satisfied. Goes back to poking at the water.

I feel it before I see it. That prickle at the back of my neck. The weight of eyes watching.

My body shifts subtly. Angling between Chleo and the tree line. Scanning shadows. Looking for the telltale glint of a scope. The rustle of clothing against bark.

There. Movement. Fifty yards up. Behind a large pine.

I don't look directly at it. Don't give away that I've spotted them.

Instead, I call to Chleo. “Hey buddy, want to see something cool?”

He looks up, curious. “What is it?”

I crouch beside him. Position us so my back is to the watcher. Pretend to show him something in the water.

My jacket falls open. Reveals the revolver at my hip. Not obvious. Not threatening. Just visible enough that whoever's watching can see I'm armed.

A warning.

Chleo's eyes widen when he spots the gun. “Is that real?”

“Yes.”

“Can I hold it?” His voice full of excitement. Boy curiosity. No fear.

I smile, but my eyes never stop scanning the tree line. “Not until you're older.”

“How much older?” he presses.

“We'll talk about it when you're ten,” I say, knowing I'm buying time. Knowing I never want him to need to hold a weapon. To live the life I've lived.

He sighs dramatically. “That's forever.”

“It'll go fast,” I assure him. “Trust me.”

Another movement catches my eye. Further up. A second watcher? Or the first one repositioning?

“Time to head back,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “Your mom's probably wondering where we are.”

He groans but doesn't argue. Takes my hand as we stand. I position him on my right side. Away from the watchers. Between me and the path back to safety.

We walk slowly. No running. No sign that I know we're being observed. Just a father and son heading home from a morning adventure.

But my senses are electric. Cataloguing every sound. Every shadow. Every potential threat.

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