“You have a family, Brody. Look at you,” Tim said.
“Not my family, but she does need a new look as well as the boy,” Yield told him.
“That child’s hair is perfect, just needs a trim,” Tim answered. “Besides, if I color his hair, he wouldn’t look like he was yours.”
“He’s not mine, and why would you say he looks like he’s mine?” Yield asked, concerned that his cousin would put ideas in the woman’s head. He had a plan. The plan didn’t include becoming a father to the boy or waking up every day next to the lady, hearing her stories of what could have been. It wasn’t his life.
“Yeah, why would you say that?” Millicent wanted to know as well.
Tim ever excited, pulled her by the hand into the house, anxious to show off the family photos on the dining room wall, and sure enough, hanging in plain sight was a photo of a young Brody. The resemblance between a thinner version of Yield and Chad was uncanny.
“That’s just creepy,” Millicent said.
“I know right! Girl, is that my cousin’s love child?” Tim asked, enlarging his eyes in overacted shock.
Millicent couldn’t resist the urge to actually make a statement that was irreverent and not be looked upon as if she were insane. So many restrictions had been placed upon her with no one to converse with or make light of the follies in life living under the Sheriff’s ever watchful eye. This was one opportunity she wasn’t going to let go.
“Tim, he’s trying not to own us. I just can’t believe how he acts as if he didn’t father our child!” she said with a cackle as if she were about to cry.
Brody pointed his finger at her, shaking his head, totally unamused by the comment. He pointed at the kitchen for her to go find food, water, or any damned thing other than play with him in such a way. His leg hurt, she was giving him a headache, and Tim had on too much damned perfume. The whole place smelled like a whorehouse in Chihuahua. Frowning, he plopped down on the couch.
“I still have to make it to Elyria today, Tim,” he told his cousin. “We got a bogey on our tail and it’s probably coming this way.”
“Oooh intrigue,” Tim said raising his shoulders in delight. “What’s my assignment?”
“She and the kid need a new look and fast. We have to roll. Two hours or less if you can,” Yield said.
“On it. You and the kid eat, I’ll get started on her,” Tim said, pulling Millicent into the kitchen. “Honey, with your skin tone, I can work miracles. I am thinking red-head!”
“You’re thinking wrong,” Millicent replied, shaking her head no to the offer of changing her hair color. She imagined a fiery, brazen color often depicted in movies of stereo-typical roadside chow slingers. Being a waitress wasn’t her chosen profession, but it paid the bills and kept food on the table; however, she didn’t want to be a caricature of the woman she’d hoped to become.
“Trust me, Honey. Tim is never wrong,” he said, taking her into the back of the house to his shop.
SHERIFF COLTON STOOD in the First Bank of Wentzville, talking to the branch manager, Franklin Curry. Although he could not command the weasel to divulge the balance in her account, he could put a freeze on it temporarily and be alerted to when she used her bank card. The moment she used the card, he would know where she and the boy were.
It would take him less than an hour to get on the road and less than that to make it to St. Louis. He estimated she would probably be there with that no-account brother of his. The two of them were planning to get her away from him. Jebbie had stolen Millicent from him once and planted his seed ole’ Mike’s garden. Then she had the nerve to grow a weed in the bed he’d planned to flower.
“Damn you both to Hell,” he said aloud.
“Sheriff? What did Millicent do?” the bank manager inquired.
“She’s fled the state with the boy without my brother’s permission,” the Sheriff said. “Jebbie’s worried since, you know, the girl ain’t right in the head.”
“Millicent is a fine young lady, Sheriff,” Franklin said. “She takes really good care of the boy. He’s a smart kid, too. He’s in my wife’s class at the elementary school. Did you check there to see if she unenrolled the boy? If not, she may just be taking a vacation like she said, and I would hate to freeze her accounts if she’s taking the boy a mini vacation to reward him for all his good grades.”
“I didn’t ask your opinion, Franklin Curry,” Mike said. “I asked you to freeze the damned accounts so we can get a handle on where she’s taken my nephew. Will you just do your fucking job, you pencil dick paper pusher?”
“Ain’t no need to get all out of sorts, Sheriff,” Franklin replied, clicking a couple of buttons on his computer, locking Millicent out of the account. “See, it’s done.”
Sheriff Colton didn’t bother to say thank you. Stomping out of the bank like a man with a chip wedged in his butthole, but he planned to head to St. Louis to have a talk this evening with his brother. Other pressing official matters required his attention, and he had to do his actual job first before chasing after a skirt he couldn’t get under. Millicent Channing was under his saddle like a prickly burr pissing off him and the horse he rode.
“She’s going to pay in the worst ways I can imagine,” he mumbled, getting into the police cruiser. He responded on radio that he was in route to the ruckus at the Shop and Save. Petty people having petty squabbles only irritated him more.
Lucky for Millicent and Yield, it may have been just the right amount of time to change both of their fates. The small changes made by Tim to her appearance would make it difficult for the Sheriff to recognize Millicent right away. As it stood, Mr. Yield was having a difficult time reconciling his own feelings.
MILLICENT PERKY TITS looked good enough to eat; or at least lick really hard until she cried out his name. Admonishing himself for having less than innocent thoughts about Millicent, for a second, he almost understood the Sheriff’s obsession. The long, lean legs went straight up to create the sweetest ass he’d seen a woman since the showgirl in Reno with the inverted nipples. Millicent’s perfect round, full breasts, were just enough to fill his mouth to shut him up so he didn’t cry out like a teenager when he stuck his...
“Brody! Brody!” Tim yelled at him, “so what do you think?”
“She’ll do,” he said, shaking himself out of the erotic fantasy he visualized in his mind about the lady and her new look. “Can you trim up the boy while she eats so we can get on the road?”
“You were always the impatient one, weren’t you?” Tim said with his hands on his hips. Thankfully, he’d changed out of the kimono and wore a regular pair of pants but the lime green tee shirt read, These Titties Ain’t Gonna Lick Themselves.
“Tim, normally, I would stay the night, but I must to get a move on. That crazy Sheriff is kind of on the warpath with me, and I have to deliver these two packages to Elyria before nightfall, so yeah, I’m impatient,” Yield told him.
Yield almost missed it. The look of disappointment on her face at his words of delivering them to Elyria, but more so on him not complimenting the new look she had. In the mirror, she thought she looked rather fetching, but Brody reacted as if Tim had smeared lipstick on a sow’s anus.
“Fine...fine,” Tim said, reaching for Chad. “Your turn, sweet child. Cousin Timmy is going to give you a high and tight with a bit of attitude.”
“I don’t know what that is, but I don’t think I want it,” Chad said, pulling away to wander back to Brody and hide behind to his leg.
Yield bent, as best he could, to look at the boy eye to eye. “I need to make sure if your Uncle sends his friends for you, they won’t recognize you. A new haircut means a fresh start at your new school, so you can walk in all cool and shit. Plus, you told me that you were just going to go with it, right?”
“Yessir,” Chad said, inhaling deeply. “I’m just going to go with it.”
A deep groan came from his mouth as he got to his feet. Millicent shielded her face, and he knew, just knew,
she was two steps from crying. Being the man that he was, and the man she expected, he walked up behind Millicent, his rough hands, touching her at the waist, his lips just below her ear.
“Another time, another situation, I wouldn’t hesitate,” he whispered. “You look so fucking amazing, that if I had my way...right now, on this countertop with my hand stuck in your mouth so my cousin couldn’t hear how hard I make you...”
He left it at that. With his fingers, he coiled a strand of hair around his index finger, tugged on it a bit then stepped back. Millicent turned to face him, the nipples in the cotton tee and the piss poor excuse of a bra, stood up, hardened, erect and all the blood in his body rushed to his groin.
“Damn it,” he said, reaching for her. His lips came to hers, kissing her fully, deeply and holding tight to a handful of that sweet ass. Yield wanted to let go but she made the mistake of moaning softly into his mouth, urging him on. Instinct took over as he pressed her butt against the counter, raising her leg just enough to allow the man to position himself between the juncture of her thighs, rubbing himself against her, his lips trailing down her face to her throat sucking gently.
“Millicent,” he breathed heavily, wanting what he couldn’t have. Desiring what he truly needed and praying his luck would hold out just a few minutes longer.
“Mommy! Mommy!” Chad called out, breaking the intense moment.
Reluctantly, he let her go. The beautiful application of lipstick was smeared across her mouth, and he took his thumb and tried to right the color application on her lips.
“Coming sweetie,” she called, letting go of the front of his shirt but patting the bulge in his pants. “That pretty much goes for you too, Big Guy.”
Out of the blue, the word ‘motherfucker’ came to mind and he chuckled. Good boy Chad, because I was about to become the best mother fucker in the world and your Momma was going to get everything my one-legged ass could give her. Trying his best to shake off the feel of her in his arms and her responses to his touch, he put his mind on other tasks.
“Shit, I need to make a call,” he said, laughing at himself. Taking out his phone, he scrolled through the contacts, looking for the one entry under the letter A. Pressing the screen, he waited for an answer.
“Archangel, this is Mr. Yield,” he said into the line to Gabriel Neary. “I am coming in hot with a small-town bogey dogging my heels and two packages in need of shipment. ETA, two hours.”
“You know the routine,” Gabriel told him. “No briefing to the subjects before arrival and observe the protocol.”
“Roger that,” Yield said, ending the conversation. He thought about Mr. Stop and the new family he acquired. The tinge of jealousy he felt watching him care for Judy’s kid made him long to have the same, but Millicent was too broken and he wasn’t the healing sort.
Hell, he wasn’t sure the years of loneliness hadn’t made him too broken to be loved by anyone, let alone a mighty fine lady like Millicent Channing. The boy could easily pass as his own, as he considered enrolling him in soccer and possibly little league. A sharp pain shot up his leg making him take a seat, still pondering the ideas of coming home to Ms. Millicent Perky Tits who kissed him like her life depended on it.
Shit, at this point, it probably actually did.
Chapter Seven – Wait, what...Hell No!
Determination.
Mr. Yield, the specialist in retrieving objects taken from others to be returned to their rightful owners, was determined to take the two things that belonged to no one and make them viable in a new home. He knew what she needed and understood her fear, but she didn’t know his. Brody Johnson wasn’t lucky in love. The scar down the side of his face was proof of his misfortune, courtesy of a woman who was now his co-worker. A femme fatale with a penchant for knife play who also considered it to be foreplay before she killed a man gave him the ugly reminder Mr. Yield saw each day in the mirror.
Initially, he didn’t know who she was or that in fact she worked for the same company he did, but timing is everything. He was in the right place at the wrong time retrieving an envelope of papers from a man she aided in exiting the world in the most excruciating means possible. Having accidently watched her work from the interior of a closet, he sat quietly with baited breath as she sliced off body parts and the man screamed in agony. The scariest part was that the woman enjoyed her work so much, once the job was complete, she laid on the bed to take the time to enjoy the pleasure of her kill through self-gratification.
Enjoying the show and drawn into the action, he made the error of enjoying his release too much, which resulted in the woman locating him in the closet and nearly putting his eye out. Explaining himself, and knowing who he was, she allowed him to live, but not until she screwed him six ways to Sunday on the couch in the man’s office while the poor Devil slowly bled out.
Brody Johnson didn’t know which disturbed him more, the intensely enjoyable coupling or that he went on several more ‘dates’ with the crazy chick. No, he didn’t see himself coming home to a little woman, especially knowing how his proclivities tended to skew just a little bit west of the norm. Millicent seemed normal. Sharing a life with her didn’t seem fair to either her or the kid. What he planned to do was best for them all.
Chad asked, “Mr. Brody? Are we going to your house now?”
“No, I am taking you to meet a special man.”
Millicent bit on her bottom lip. He was going to dump them off on someone else so they would no longer be his problem. As much as it made sense, considering the Sheriff and all, she understood, but deep down inside she wanted him for her own − to be their protector. Chad deserved a strong man in his life to guide him and she deserved to go to bed at night and actually sleep.
“Is there anything we need to know before we meet this man?” she asked as he turned down a long road. Dusk began to settle around the vehicle, looming ahead on the back road where a farmhouse would pop up every fifteen miles. An ominous sensation covered the gree truck as the road dead-ended, and night dropped from the sky, changing the spot of light on the horizon to pitch black. Millicent swore under her breath as fear gripped her heart in a viselike hold, making it hard to breathe.
“Yeah, don’t make any sudden moves, speak when you are spoken to, and Chad, don’t touch shit and don’t ask for shit,” he said in a firm voice, like his father would say to him each time they went to the store. Only his father never swore or used dirty words.
The green pick-up pulled up to an old wrought iron cattle gate. A mid-sized stone farmhouse sat in the near distance with only one light shining on the front porch. Millicent didn’t want to be left here. She didn’t want to be left at all. Her desire was to be with Brody, but he’d helped them already. Asking for more of the man was simply selfish. A quick glance at his profile put butterflies in her stomach as he spoke to her and the boy.
“Chad, unbuckle and scoot towards the middle. Place your hands on the tops of the seat and keep them still,” he said to the boy. To Millicent he commanded, “Place your hands on the dashboard and leave them there until I say it’s okay to move them. You guys hear me?”
“Yes,” they said in unison as he rolled the vehicle closer to the old metal gate. The Dodge idled in drive as he pressed down on the brake, his hands on the dash. A bright white light scanned over the vehicle and from the side of his eye he could see Millicent shiver as if a tall dark man in a hooded cape had just walked over her intended grave.
“It’s just security, nothing to worry about. He is a good man, and you are safe here,” Yield tried to offer as consolation.
The squeaky metal gate creaked slowly open as Mr. Yield’s green shop drove through, coming up to a stone house with the front light on the porch, shining down, creating a spotlight on the visitors.
“Leave everything in the vehicle, but Millicent, bring your wallet,” he said. “Chad, leave the backpack.”
He provided step by step instructions to the two as they walked in a straight line to the fr
ont door, each standing at his side under the bright spotlight, which doubled a front porch lantern. He pressed the button, giving his name, “Mr. Yield.”
A loud buzzer sounded as the door popped open for them to be greeted by a fair skinned African American woman with a headful of black curly hair. The smile the woman provided was so warm he could sense Millicent’s body physically relax. Chad, less obvious, gave a loud sigh.
“Hello, I’m Cabrina Neary,” she said. “My husband is waiting for you in the kitchen. I have coffee and snacks if you are hungry.”
Millicent, not knowing what to say, reached for Cabrina and squeezed her in a big hug.
“Nice to meet you as well,” Cabrina said, hugging the lady in return. “I know the security is off-putting, but you’re safe here.”
“I would like a snack,” Chad said, getting the evil eye from Yield who already told the boy not to ask for shit. “What? I didn’t ask, she offered. I don’t want to be rude and not accept.”
He grabbed the boy by the collar of his jacket and pulled him into the kitchen, pointing at the chair for him to sit down, giving him a look to keep his mouth shut. Gabriel Neary stood by the kitchen sink, his feet casually crossed at the ankles as he observed the action a father would take with his misbehaving son. He also observed Yield pulling out a chair for the lady and asking if she cared for a cup of coffee.
“Yes, please, thank you,” she said, giving Gabriel a hesitant smile and thanking him as well.
Blind Luck (The Technicians Series Book 3) Page 5
