Dead Beat (❌)

Chapter Fourteen

Anneliese

The sheer force of the door flying pass shakes Dad and I to the core. I know that because the sound of impact and the shriek that rips itself from my mouth causes Dad to immediately reach across me to grasp at one of the daggers on his belt. Not only that, but I feel his heart begin to flutter a mile a minute under my hand that's still pressed into his chest.

Preparing myself for a SWAT team to come storming in, I'm as rigid as a rock as Dad shifts me to the side by the mattress while slowly rising to his feet and drawing both daggers menacingly.

Hesitant to be apart, I reach a hand out for him, but quickly draw it back to my chest as a voice enters the room.

"Knock knock!" the masculine voice call out teasingly.

Too much in shock to move I just focus on my Dad who is standing firmly in the stranger's way. I lean hard into the mattress while I watch, gauging the seriousness of the situation by Dad's reactions.

The man doesn't speak again and I'm still too nervous to sneak a peek over the mattress to look. I watch in confusion as Dad slowly lowers his weapons, but doesn't put them away.

"Was that necessary?" Dad asks in a slightly annoyed tone. He holds some recognition in his words, like he's talking to a friend but still hesitant to let his guard down.

"Absolutely not," the unknown man chuckles and I hear the scuffing of his shoes on the carpet as he enters. "But when have I ever acted under necessary means?"

I watch as Dad's shoulders slowly fall and he lets out a small sigh followed by an eye roll. I'm still literally shaking by the whole dramatic entrance, but with Dad appearing to somewhat relax I summon up the courage to finally peek over the bed.

In the now doorless entrance to our motel room stands a tall and shaggy looking older man. He doesn't look very menacing, but he doesn't come off as the typical man his age either. He's a similar build compared to Dad, but he's a bit thicker. Dressed in a casual white dress shirt with a black tie loosely hanging from his neck, his demeanor comes off as laid-back.

Of course, this doesn't really help my anxiety levels, especially since Dad is still clutching his weapons beside me. I can tell he knows this man somehow, but I feel as if that doesn't necessarily make him our ally.

The man's hair is as shaggy as his appearance, the strands just long enough to brush his eyes. His locks are speckled with gray that spread down into the light scruff on his face, a cigarette resting in the corner of his lips.

His almost black eyes give off a relaxed, playful aura, but I still don't let myself be fooled. He doesn't give me any reason to fear him, but I trust my Dad's judgement over my own.

I still have issues with him, but they have nothing to do with this right now.

The man remains relaxed, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants as he puffs away on his tobacco.

"Why so tense, Ez? I know it's been a while, but we don't have any unresolved issues do we?" he says with another small snicker.

Dad doesn't answer and I peer over to see his daggers raised again. Nothing shows on his face, but I can feel his hesitation and he almost seems a little confused.