Her Big Easy Wedding The Complete Series

by Abby Knox

  The guard grew angry now and smacked Lionel’s chin with the butt of his rifle. “Shut up, now. You’ve said too much. I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get your bearings. Try again, friend. Adios for now.”

  “Wait!” Lionel cried, but the guard had gone and the steel door slammed shut, followed by the rattling of the locks.

  Some time later, Lionel was wishing he had eaten the gruel he had been served earlier, because he was starving and thirsty.

  He started banging on the door. The echo told him there was someone out there. “I need water, please! My name is Lionel. I am from New Orleans in America. It’s a beautiful place and I have a beautiful girl there waiting for me. Do you have someone waiting for you somewhere? Then you know how I’m feeling right now.”

  There was no answer, but that was fine for now because Lionel made his way around the room and pounded his fist against the concrete walls.

  And then, like a burst of sunshine through the thunderclouds, he figured out how he was going to get out of there. By pounding on the walls, Lionel found an area where the concrete had been degraded. He rubbed his hand over the area and felt dust crumbling slightly, and a small area of rusted steel rebar underneath, exposed to the elements.

  He rubbed at it. It was still a solid wall of concrete, but the rubble was exposed and the area showed signs of salt water degradation.

  “This place has been flooded before, and we’re near the ocean,” he said to himself. “I can work with this.”

  The next time the guard came to bring him food, Lionel scarfed down the slop and took the small metal spoon over to the area in the concrete that was degraded and, as quietly as he could, he scraped. Tiny, minuscule particles fell away. This could take weeks. Maybe years. Who knew?

  And then he had an idea. He took a few sips of water, just enough to know he would not get dehydrated, and then poured the rest over the jagged exposed rocks in the wall. Lionel knew that moisture would help it along. It would be a slow, agonizing process, but it had to work. This much he knew about buildings.

  Then a voice disrupted him, and he dropped the spoon. It clattered to the hard floor and Lionel waited to be busted. But the door did not open.

  Instead, the guard said, “I will take the letter for you, but you know that I will have to read it first.”

  Lionel opened the metal flap and pushed out his empty bowl, and then took the letter out of his pocket, read it over again, kissed it, and sent it through the chute to the guard.

  “Gracias, amigo,” he said.

  Then he held his breath and waited for the guard to demand he return the spoon as well.

  But he didn’t.

  Lionel knew the guard was too smart to forget that.

  The truth was, he deduced, he was making headway. Both with the guard and with the walls that imprisoned him.

  Chapter 7

  Betsy

  She waited as patiently as she could.

  Betsy didn’t want to piss off Jane, because it could mean that she might never receive any letters from Lionel ever again.

  She made sure she was out of the house most days and focused on her college courses. She studied at the library when she could.

  Weeks passed, and Jane no longer came to see her. Maybe she figured Lionel had moved on. But Betsy knew Lionel, and she knew that he was never going to give up on her.

  Then one day, in late June, Jane appeared with an even stranger letter from Lionel.

  Once again, the envelope had been opened even though it had been addressed to her:

  Dearest Betsy,

  I apologize my stint in this little corner of the world is taking much longer than expected.

  Do not worry, I feel that I will be home soon.

  One thing, though: please pray for me.

  Notice I said pray, which is unusual for me, I know.

  Thing is, I’m OK. I’m not hurt. I’m not uncomfortable. I just miss you terribly.

  Kindly send my regards to your parents, whom you know I also love dearly.

  Never will I forget the fun times we all had together.

  Oh, another thing, give my love to your aunt, Sister Catherine.

  When I come home, I hope that all of us will get together for a party.

  Just try to keep the faith. That’s what I love most about you.

  Anyway, I picked up some gifts for you here. It’s green, and also salty and sandy. See if you can guess where I bought it.

  Nobody here is as interesting as you are, Betsy. Not many people to talk to.

  Everyone is treating me OK; I’m just terribly homesick.

  Much love,

  Lionel

  Betsy read over the letter several times as Jane stood there watching her. It seemed like Jane was waiting for her to react.

  However, Betsy was a smart girl. What horse shit was this? He missed fun times with her whole family? That was not Lionel. Then a cold knot formed in her stomach and she realized the truth. Lionel was letting her know something was very wrong. She studied the letter some more, and then she saw it. It was so obvious it was almost laughable.

  By piecing together the first letter of each paragraph, she realized she was in danger. It said, “I don’t know Jane.”

  Her heart pounded in her chest, and she tried not to look shocked or surprised.

  She gathered herself. Finally, she looked up with a weak smile. “Thank you so much, Jane. It looks like I have nothing to worry about. He says he’ll be home soon. Thank you for bringing the letter.”

  She felt like a robot delivering this phony speech, but Jane—whoever she was—seemed to buy it.

  “Any guesses what he means by a place green and salty and sandy?” Jane asked.

  Betsy, now knowing Jane was some kind of nefarious actor, lied through her teeth. “Well, he is in the South of France. I imagine it’s some kind of jewelry from the beach or something. Sometimes I never know what he’s talking about. He’s just so mature and I’m such a silly little ninny.” She was laying on thick the dumb act, and she told herself to quit while she was ahead.

  Jane finally nodded and walked away, eyeing her suspiciously.

  Betsy watched her go and then thought, Lionel was really in trouble. He made references to god and her family throughout the letter. None of whom he particularly enjoyed talking about. Something was very, very wrong.

  When Jane was gone, Betsy ran like a bat out of hell across the street to the convent and flew into Mother Superior’s office, asking for the kind of favor she’d never asked for before in her life.

  Chapter 8

  Lionel

  He stared at Betsy’s letter in disbelief. He did not have a sister named Jane.

  He didn’t know a single person named Jane in his life, that he could recall.

  This was bad. Very bad. Was it someone from the US military watching his communications?

  Was it a spy?

  Was it a business rival trying to determine his whereabouts? His vulnerabilities?

  Lionel had no clue, but he was outraged.

  The thought of anyone intercepting his letters to Betsy made him livid and ready to tear somebody apart with his teeth.

  He dashed off another letter, this time in code, hoping that his smart girl would pick up the clues and take precautions.

  His anger and frustration worked in his favor, and he stayed awake through the nights scraping, scraping, scraping through the concrete wall.

  How he was going to get back to civilization once he did get out of the concrete structure was another question, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

  Dammit, he thought as he worked with the spoon. Why hadn’t anyone come for him? Why hadn’t anyone sent in the cavalry to blow these assholes to smithereens and airlift him back home? How could his government abandon him like this?

  Well, he thought, he would never, ever again put his trust in the government to help him through anything.

  When he got back home, he swore to himself, he
would be an even bigger, more ruthless corporate juggernaut, and the government and their regulations could go straight to hell. He was going to do what he wanted to do, and the rest could go fuck themselves.

  Lionel kept working at the wall over the next few weeks. When he had the strength, he would shift, and his supernatural panther strength helped him along. His concentration on this task gave him one other gift. He was able to time when a vehicle was arriving and leaving again.

  Judging by the sunlight in the window, it was at seven a.m. every third day.

  He guessed this would be the guard’s superiors coming to drop off food and supplies.

  He could also hear them talking in Spanish, and the guard had not bothered telling the driver of the vehicle that the prisoner could understand the language.

  Lionel smiled. He had the guard in his pocket. He would be richly rewarded for that.

  Lionel did not send any more missives to Betsy after that, but he did receive a reply some weeks later after sending his coded message.

  It read:

  Dear Lionel,

  All is well. I’m at the convent with my aunt. I’m safe. Jane won’t be let in here. Don’t send further replies, I don’t want you to risk any more because of me.

  But when you get home, I’ll be waiting.

  I’ll be wearing a white dress, standing next to the priest.

  And then nobody will ever take you away from me again.

  Hurry back,

  Betsy

  Chapter 9

  Lionel

  The day of his escape had arrived. Over a few months, Lionel had managed to wear away through the exposed rock in the wall, near the back of the prison that was closest to the water. Either the guard never noticed the hole, or he never walked back there. But now the hole was big enough for him to slip through with a bit of contortion.

  He waited for the sound of the vehicle on the third day.

  Over time, he had determined that it was a military-style Jeep, four-wheel drive, manual transmission. Easy peasy, he could drive that up and down a mountain or on the beach if he had to. He could do this.

  He waited for his moment. Eventually, the Jeep arrived, he listened for the cargo to be unloaded, he heard the guard exchanging words with the driver, and then he made his move.

  With some effort, he wrenched himself through the jagged hole in the concrete wall. And then he realized why the hole had never been noticed by the guard. Once he was outside the hole, it was a sheer drop down a rocky cliff to the ocean.

  Fuck.

  Lionel nearly lost his balance. Emaciated, dehydrated, and half the man he was a few months ago, he somehow managed to shift, and panther Lionel pulled himself back up to the cliff’s edge, where he could maintain a sure-footed feline balance.

  He heard the engine of the Jeep rev. The driver was getting ready to go.

  Shit.

  He had to delay them somehow. He gave all he had left and let out a full-throated roar.

  It worked.

  Lionel heard them both pause their conversation and cock their guns as they entered the building, obviously looking for him.

  But he was not there. While they were inside, he shifted back into human form and ran to the Jeep, which the driver had left running with the keys in the ignition.

  “Hot damn, baby Jesus, I will go to church every day for the rest of my life!” Lionel crowed as he threw the Jeep into gear and gunned the engine, nearly blind from exhaustion.

  He was doing it. He was escaping. He was going to make it.

  Just as he was rounding the corner of the crude trail that led into the jungle, however, he realized the prison guard, the one who had treated his wounds, sent his letters, asked no questions about the spoons, and probably ignored all the suspicious scraping noises coming from the cell, was standing in the trail right in front of the Jeep.

  There was no shoulder to swerve onto. On one side of the trail were trees. The other side was a cliff. Lionel had exactly one choice.

  Keep going, or turn himself in to spare the guard’s life and be killed.

  It happened within a split-second decision, and Jeep plowed right over the guard.

  This was not the way it was supposed to go.

  This was not part of his assignment.

  This is not how heroes escape their prison cells, he said to himself,

  but he had to keep going. It was wrong, but he had made a promise to Betsy.

  He would keep going. He would get himself home. He would ditch the Jeep at some point, run on foot at other times, hop on a bus and pretend to be local with his flawless Spanish. But he did it.

  He kept going.

  He made it home.

  And he promised himself, as he thought of the guard whose life was taken as a result of his actions, that he would never again get behind the wheel of any vehicle, no matter what.

  Jane was never heard from again, and the US military denied ever assigning her to watch his communications. Lionel chalked it up to business spies trying to figure out where he was while he was out of the country.

  Whatever the case was, he made it home, he married Betsy, and he doubled his security detail.

  Chapter 10

  June 2018

  Betsy

  The old, weathered letters were spread out on the bed. Betsy gestured to them. “Do you see these?”

  Lionel grunted. “I’m not that old, my dear. I can see this mess of papers in front of me.”

  Betsy prodded. “These are letters from when we courted. Half of these were sent when you disappeared into the jungle for months on end. I had no clue where you were, I don’t think even you knew where you were. But these letters are the real Lionel. This Lionel, in these letters, would never be so cruel to his own daughter.”

  Lionel laughed. “I’m not a monster, Betsy, I’m the same man that came home to you and ravished you good.”

  She blushed. “Oh Lionel.”

  “Tell me it isn’t true that you were pregnant before the U.S. government ever knew that I made it home. Say it.”

  She sighed. “Yes, technically, you probably did get me pregnant before our wedding night, and nobody was the wiser. So?”

  Lionel set down his copy of the Wall Street Journal and took off his reading glasses. Now with salt and pepper hair, he was even more dashing than the young man who used to climb up her drain pipe and climb through her window to wake her up with his mouth. “So you see, Betsy, I’m just a hopeless romantic.”

  He reached over and slipped one hand inside her bathrobe. Her skin still responded to his touch just as if she was a shy 19-year-old. She breathed and shook her head. He was not off the hook yet.

  “What happened to you in your childhood that you need to torment these kids before your daughter’s wedding?” Betsy asked, arching an eyebrow at her husband.

  She was looking forward to a splendid day, watching her daughter Rosemary get married to the man of her dreams, and was looking forward to a long life of many grandchildren, hopefully. She desperately wanted Lionel to behave tomorrow.

  Lionel only laughed.

  “I don’t know. I just feel like fucking with ’em.”

  “Tell me again. You are going to the wedding? You are going to walk your daughter down the aisle? Because the scuttlebutt is that all of Ash’s friends are in on some kind of caper to get you there. Ash thinks I don’t know, but I heard that some of those wolves are coming to physically drag you there. And then, I heard through a friend of a friend who sees a psychic in the French Quarter that he’s planning to hire a voodoo priestess to use some kind of mind control or relaxing charm or some nonsense to get you to comply once you arrive at the venue.”

  Lionel just kept laughing until he was howling. “Can you believe all of that rigmarole?”

  Betsy shook her head and could not help but laugh as Lionel continued to massage her breasts inside of her bathrobe, “Yes I can. When Rosie tells her man she wants her daddy at the wedding no matter what, I believe the groom
and his pack will do whatever it takes. And yet you let them think you’re not going. Why?”

  “Hazing, I guess. I endured my fair share of it as a Knob at the Citadel back in the day. These boys don’t even know what they’re made of, yet. If this Ash boy wants to be in this family, he and his friends are going to have to toughen up.”

  Betsy sighed and put a hand on Lionel’s chest.

  “The world is tough enough. No sense in making our children tougher than they need to be.”

  Lionel listened as his wife talked softly and eventually began to drift off to sleep, his hand still cupping the favorite part of his wife.

  His other hand patted her hand that was on his chest. “I suppose you’re right. On the one hand, I’m paying for this huge wedding. Nothing about our wedding came easy for me, as you know. I just didn’t want to make this too easy for them. They’ll be fine. We’ll all be just fine.”

  A moment later, Lionel was sleeping contentedly with his wife in his arms, dreaming of new schemes.

  “Yes, we will,” Betsy whispered with a smile.

  THE END

  Walk With Me

  A stand-alone Small Town Bachelor Romance

  By Abby Knox

  Logan has traveled all around the world to escape the confines of his domineering, wealthy family. He has finally found his place out in the wide open spaces of the American Southwest. in the desert, rescuing hapless hikers and educating kids on the beauty and dangers of the canyon, he doesn’t have to deal with himself and his own issues. He doesn’t need anything or anybody else intruding on his perfect existence. That is, until she stumbles into his view of the great outdoors — with her inadequate supplies and tendency to walk too close to the edges — and messes everything up.