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PROLOGUE
MUSHU STEVENS
Don’t judge a book by its cover. Is that statement referring to my name or the moral of this story? It could be either of these.
My name is Mushu Stevens. My legal name isn’t important, born and raised in Seward, Alaska; so, it’s safe to say I am a local loony, as my best friend Charlene ‘Char’ Dixon would say. She’d never known what life is like being in one place for over four years.
Char was raised as a Navy brat. Daughter of retired Navy SEAL, Master Chief Petty Officer Tyler Dixon. She was born in the U.S. Naval Air Facility in Mildenhall, UK, but raised all over until her father retired in Whidbey Island, Washington.
What brought them to Seward, Alaska? Char told me her father visited here years ago when she was a little girl and he fell in love with it and wanted to retire here. I can think of better places to retire than at the end of the world. However, it was good for me, or I never would have met her in high school.
Let’s go back a few years when I first met Charlene Dixon when we were both preteens.
It was before school started and a few of us guys were atthe spot. We had no unique name for where our fishing hole was, so we called itthe spot. The sound of a high-pitched engine of some sort interrupted our peaceful fishing afternoon. It was annoying, and we were certain this unwanted noise scared the fish away. The engine stopped, but matters became worse when, a half-hour later, gunshots echoed through the area.
This unnecessary noise had become ridiculous, and I tossed my pole to the ground, ready to pounce on the inconsiderate idiot. My homies flanked me because I wasn’t stupid enough to take on this asshole by myself. When we arrived at where the culprit was, I held out my hands to stop the guys. It was a girl shooting at cans and bottles, not missing one. It wasn’t possible that a girl was a better shot than I was. After she blasted the last remaining bottle, she turned and smiled at us. Cautiously and calmly, she laid the guns on the ground and reached into her pocket. “She’s got a gun,” I yelled out, shielding the boys from the potential massacre. Yet, she pulled out a pack of gum, stuffing a piece in her mouth.
She smacked the gum while laughing. “Did you seriously think I was going to shoot you all?” She called out while approaching us. “Man, you local loonies are a paranoid bunch, aren’t you?”
There was no doubt in my mind that we were all nervous, but this girl stood not even five feet and it was doubtful she’d kick all of our asses even if she wanted to put up a fight.
“My name’s Charlene, or you can call me Char.”
We all introduced ourselves and she promised to stop shooting, though begrudgingly. We offered for her to fish with us, but she respectfully declined.
Fast forward five years. Char and I were inseparable. We did everything together, except fish, which was boring to her. She was all about adventure and loved maxing out her adrenaline rush.
When most girls were into wearing as much make-up as their skin allowed or were taking a tally on how many local guys they could date; Char would either ride her motorbike or shoot guns on her makeshift range, or train for the annual dog-sledding contest. The latter she never won, but she loved doing it for the sport of it, not for the competition.
Charlene Dixon was her father’s daughter through and through, whose destiny went beyond what this small town could offer. She wanted to practice law or be a ninja. It took some convincing from me and her father that being a ninja wasn’t an occupation. After high school, she wanted to honor her father and join the Navy as a Judge Advocate General after she received her law degree. I’m going to miss her something awful when she’s gone. Did her drive and ambition rub off on me? No, not really. I ran my father’s business at the local grocery store and I am a proud prospect of theNanuq Shila motorcycle club under her father’s liege.
This is a story of a daughter’s honor to her father and how things can change for all in a short amount of time.
ONE
CHARLENE ‘CHAR’ DIXON
“Another guy, Dad?” I yelled from the back of our tiny house while I was fussing with my hair. This was the fourth guy he invited over in less than a month. There was no time in my life for a quick fling before I headed to the Seattle University School of Law. Yeah, I could have gone to U-Dub, but didn’t want to be tied down with extra classes I didn’t need.
In order to be a Judge Advocate General in the United States Navy, all that was required was a Bachelor’s degree in Law. I had every desire to be a JAG in the military, not someone’s wife. My father has been told this repeatedly, but does he listen? Hell no.
“Char?” He asked, startling me when he stood in the bathroom's doorway. “It doesn’t hurt to meet a nice guy. Maybe you’ll reconsider going to Seattle.” He leaned in further and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. “What is that crap on your face?”
Scattering the hundreds of dollars in cosmetics on the counter, I bit my lower lip and answered meekly, “Make-up. I ordered it from this beauty store online and spent a pretty penny.”
Let me tell you something about my father. One would assume because he’s a retired Navy SEAL, he would be a tough guy who spoke gruffly. Not this teddy bear, which he was turning into the older he became.
I’m sure you’re thinking, wait a minute, you were born in the UK. Navy Seals, or Navy Sea, Air and Land teams, aren’t stationed in the UK.Let me set the record straight. Duh, I know this.My father wasn’t always a SEAL. He busted his ass going through rigorous training and spent the last fifteen years of his Naval career as a SEAL.
It wasn’t until I turned the tender age of three that he took on this prestigious position, forcing us to live in San Diego, California—ugh, twist my arm, I loved it there. It was my home and when duty called, he would be gone for months at a time. His absence brought me and my mother closer; however, I barely knew him until he retired. It was great being able to finally bond with my father, but when he had this desire to move from sunny Southern California to Seward, Alaska; it was a mystery to me and my late mother, but he loved Alaska. Yeah, it was beautiful, but he was on crack to consider moving from one climate to an altogether extreme one.
Admittedly, I grew to love Seward, but not as much as this man who was slowly getting on my nerves today. My father watched intently as I traced the eyeliner pen across my upper eyelid and arched his brow. Asking, with a crooked grin, “Why are you making an exception for Dallas?”
The line I worked so hard to perfect ended up veering past my eye line. “Dammit to hell. Look what you made me do.” I groaned while tearing toilet paper off the roll. “Really? Dallas?” My father shrugged at my inquiry. “Please don’t tell me it’s Dallas Marquez?”
He gave me a sheepish grin and lifted the tube of lipstick to his mouth. “Do you think this is a magnificent shade on me?”
“DAD!” I yelled as I snatched the lipstick out of his hand, stuffing it into the cosmetic bag. “I swear you’re going to pay big time for this. That guy is a first-class douchebag.” Growling as I shoved past him, my father was on my heels to my bedroom. “That boy was nasty to me in high school, not to mention, he slept with half the 2021 graduating class. I want nothing to do with him.”
