Gun Shy

by Ashley Bostock

  She made her way through the bar area and toward Blake's office. She acknowledged that her heart still hurt from the last time she was here and had overheard Blake with Alana. She made her way to the door and peeked in. It was empty. He must be in the back working on the truck load, she thought.

  She continued on and found him loading the truck. She still marveled at how strong he was. He hefted kegs on to the platform like they weighed nothing. She set her beach bag on the ground and was just getting ready to set down her purse, when her phone rang. Blake looked up, startled, and she caught his eyes and waved before she answered.

  "Wow. You get a boyfriend and you act like we don't exist."

  "Amber! I just talked to you two days ago. And I texted you about that website I was telling you about and I got not a single response. So take that! What are you doing?"

  "Oh, just wondering if I'm ever going to run into Mr. Right-in-all-the-right-places again or if that was just a fluke."

  "So still nothing, huh? Maybe he doesn't live around here. I wish he did. As much as you don't want to admit this, I think you like or liked the guy."

  "You're right, as usual, I hate admitting that, but I think you're right. But it's stupid, unless Mother of Fate steps in, I am never going to see him again."

  Marilyn walked over to the truck and watched Blake move, up and down, standing, bending. When he was focused, he was fast, efficient. He loaded the truck without hesitation. The muscles in his forearms flexed. It made her heart skip beats thinking of those same arms and hands touching her body. She tuned back in to Amber.

  "I'm sorry, Amber. What happened between you two happened so long ago anyway, you guys are totally different people now. Listen, let me call you back, I just walked into the brewery and I haven't had a chance to say hello to Blake yet."

  Amber let out a sarcastic, "Say hello from me, too," before she hung up.

  Marilyn barely had a chance to stick her phone inside her purse before Blake attacked her. He nibbled on her lips, squeezing her tightly into his chest.

  "Hi. Never thought you were going to hang up," he murmured, still nibbling her lips, sticking his tongue inside her mouth.

  She finally pushed him away, giggling, "Hi. She wouldn't have, that's why I said I had to go. How's the loading going?" she gestured toward the truck.

  "Almost done. I got caught up on something else but I just have this here and I will be good to go."

  "Okay. Take your time. I enjoy watching you work," she smiled wickedly.

  Blake went back to it. Marilyn leaned against the railing and watched him finish.

  "I need to go to my office and get a printout, I will be right back."

  "I won't go anywhere."

  Marilyn watched him go. She was relieved Tyler wasn't there. She really didn't want to run into him. She made her way onto the platform and into the back of the truck. It wasn't a big semi truck, nothing like that. It was a small delivery vehicle - much like a FedEx or UPS truck. Blake had loaded it very efficiently. She heard someone talking, his voice low and urgent. She peeked out just in time to see Tyler talking on his phone, heading toward her. Shit! Maybe if she just stood in here a few moments, he would go away without noticing her.

  "It's here, loaded and ready," he spoke into his phone. Whatever the person said on the other end got him riled up, "I have to sign off on the shipment and it will be ready. He already knows I'm driving it. I talked him into it."

  This conversation was giving her the creeps. Who was he talking to? And why did it matter if he convinced Blake to let him drive the truck? She could feel the uneasiness growing inside her belly. She crouched behind some boxes that were labeled Poudre Hops Summer Ale.

  "I know what the fuck I'm doing. I will drive it out to Willow Creek Road, it's far enough from town. You guys better be there! Don't be late either! I can't have a fucking beer truck sitting alongside the road waiting to get robbed."

  Marilyn was going to puke. Her head was pounding, her hands were shaking, and she felt like she couldn't get enough air inside her lungs. Was this an anxiety attack? What had Tyler gotten himself into? He was robbing the trucks? Why? He was robbing himself essentially? This didn't make any sense. Fuck, she had to get out of here. How was she going to do that now with Tyler standing down there?

  Her mind couldn't process what was happening. She could feel the pounding movements as Tyler made his way up the loading dock. The next thing she knew, the rattling sound of metal on metal filled her ears as the loading door of the truck began to close.

  Should she scream out now? Her mind finally registered that Blake had never came back. Where did he go? Locked inside the truck it was awfully dark. How long did it take before someone died from suffocation in an enclosed space like this? Oh no, here comes another anxiety attack. Her heart was pounding, no air was getting into her lungs. Breathe, Marilyn, breathe. Slow and steady. Don't panic now. For God’s sake, don’t throw up.

  The truck engine rumbled to life. Oh no, she thought. It idled for a few moments before it lurched forward, braked and steadily went on its way.

  She knew the location of the brewery well enough to know which direction they were headed. Out of the parking lot. Stop sign. Right turn toward Main Street. Street light. Right turn onto Main Street. And after a few moments of driving straight on Main, Tyler turned right again and she was lost. No, Marilyn thought, I'm not lost! I have my purse! She reached into her purse and found her phone. She hit the GPS indicator and the tiny blue dot pinpointed her location.

  Okay, you can do this, she told herself. She had a text from Blake

  Blake is going to be crushed when he hears that it has been Tyler. She typed as fast as she could.

  What the fuck? Blake re-read her message again. Not thinking, he grabbed his keys and ran to his car. He had to go find her. What if something bad went down?

  He sped out of the lot.

  Ha! Stay put? She sure as hell wasn’t attempting to go anywhere. Marilyn looked at the GPS again. They were on a county road, still heading north. The next crossroad was about a mile away. What if he turns? And where the hell was Willow Creek Road?? She texted Blake the road and direction they were heading as well as their upcoming cross road and asked if he called the police as well.

  Fuck, the police! In Blake's excitement about worrying over Marilyn's welfare he completely forgot to call them. Who was that guy? Jim. Blake scrolled through his phone trying to find his number. He hit send and waited. Voicemail. Crap. He hit his steering wheel. Son of a bitch. He left him a detailed message, explaining as best as he could about the situation and what Marilyn texted him. That was difficult. Communicating by text was not the best method of communication.

  Let alone trying to relay that little bit to someone else.

  Should he call 911? He supposed he better. He wanted another update from Marilyn as to her location before he called them though.

  He had to get to Marilyn. He felt sick to his stomach. What the hell had gone wrong? One minute he was in his office getting his paperwork and when he went out to the loading area, Tyler had the truck ready to go. Her beach bag was still there so at first he hadn't really worried. He had assumed she had gone to the bathroom, but when he went back to his office the bathroom was open so he texted her and now this was happening.

  Would Tyler hurt her if he found her in the back of that truck? That was the million-dollar question. He was hoping that having been an old girlfriend of Tyler's, that luck would be on her side. Of course, he never suspected Tyler of hijacking their delivery trucks either, so that didn't give him a real comfort level. Why was he doing this? It was obviously for the money. Which was somewhat confusing to Blake because he had money in order to buy into the brewery. Was it more than he could handle? Did he go into the business knowing this is what he was going to do? Or had he became desperate and started planning to steal from the company after the fact?

  Chapter Twenty

  How was she going to explain what she was doing in the tru
ck when Tyler opened the back and she was inside? He was going to hurt her, she had a sickening feeling in her gut. She was afraid he was going to hurt her that day when he came to the store and now? She knew his dirty deeds and she was going to be there to witness it.

  He was going to hurt her.

  The only comfort Marilyn had was her purse, which held her gun tucked inside. Thank God Amber had called when she did. She almost set her purse down along with her beach bag and then she really would have been screwed. Okay, think, Marilyn! she told herself. Her heart was still beating frantically but she was no longer shaking and feeling queasy. She opened her purse and took out her gun from the secret zipper compartment. She released the clip and checked the bullets. Six. That was a good sign. She was certain it was full but nothing wrong with double-checking. She shoved the magazine back in and cocked the gun, allowing a bullet to move into the chamber. She double-checked the safety and instead of putting it back into her secret zipper compartment she laid it just inside her purse. With this damn dress she was wearing, she couldn't hide a thing in it. She prayed that Tyler and his comrades would take the high road and decide not to hurt her. And she hoped the police were on their way as well. She checked her GPS and then texted Blake.

  Almost instantly:

  A thrill of excitement ran through Marilyn's body. He was coming after them? To save her? If before she questioned that she could actually be in love with him, now she knew. Yes. She was in love with him. Who did he think he was that he could just come and rescue her? She loved it.

  Wait for the police? Didn't she know who she was talking to? Like hell was he waiting for the police when the woman he loved was sitting in the back of a truck that was going to get ambushed.

  Marilyn pulled up the GPS. They were now on Willow Creek Road. Oh no. She was getting nervous again. At any moment the truck was going to stop and they were going to start transferring the beer into their other mode of transportation. Was there any way to hide from that? No. Damn it. She wished she were invisible. This was not going to be good once they found out she was back here. All sorts of bad things were running through her mind. She just hoped the police got here in time.

  She felt the truck slowing down. She could hear the tell-tale sounds of gravel hitting the undercarriage of the truck. Yeah, they were out here in the middle of nowhere.

  The truck finally pulled over and Marilyn quickly set her phone to silent mode and sent Blake a text telling him they were in fact, on Willow Creek Road and they were coming to a stop.

  Blake pulled up his GPS. It didn't look like he was too far away from Willow Creek Road. He had to get there. He had to get there in time to get to Marilyn. There was no telling what Tyler or any of the people he was meeting would do to her once he found her in the back.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Her heartbeat started to speed up again. Marilyn could hear voices outside. How many men were there? She couldn't keep track. She couldn't hear enough to identify each voice. Hell, for all she knew there could be ten men out there just as well as there could be four. At least there were two. Oh this was going to get tricky. Right now she knew she had the element of surprise on her side. No one but Blake knew she was in here and he wasn't here yet. And she had her ever faithful three-eighty. You had to love guns. Thank God for that. Now, if she could get her breathing under control and have the sick feeling in her stomach go away, she'd be good as gold.

  She heard the scraping of what must be the lock on the truck door and then slowly, the gate started rolling up. Sunlight poured in, momentarily blinding her, along with the scent of freshly cut hay. It felt like it took her a lifetime for her eyes to adjust to the light. She could hear catcalls and yelps as the gate rolled open exposing their treasures. She held herself tight in a ball - her knees to her chest, her purse strap on her left arm - in case she had to reach in and pull her gun out, she wanted to be doing it with her shooting hand, and her arms wrapped tightly around her body.

  She could hear Tyler's voice yelling at the men, "Back it up closer. Hurry up man, we need to get this shit transferred. It's broad daylight out - an old farmer could drive by at any time."

  Another voice, "Chill man, we got this. We’ve done it before. You forget we did this last time, piece of cake."

  Mere seconds later she could feel the men at the back of the truck, hauling the beer out. She suspected they were in a working man's line - one guy unloading and passing it off to the other men. She really wanted to peek out and see how many men she was up against. All it would take was a quick glance to her left and she would be able to peer out. She really wanted to peek. Tempting. Maybe she could get her phone out and take some pictures of these guys doing bad shit and then if they caught her and killed her, at least there would be proof on her phone. That was tempting too. As she considered the odds of doing this and not getting caught, she heard the guys yelling, too many voices and then Tyler in a smug voice, "Oh shit, look who it is. It's alright guys, we can take care of him. It's the owner of the brewery."

  Blake wasn't sure what he was getting himself into but as soon as he pulled up his eyes were searching frantically for Marilyn. Where in the hell was she? Tyler and three other men were standing between his delivery truck and the other truck. Was it possible she was still hiding inside undetected? Or had they already found her and done God-knows-what with her? His heart felt like it was about to explode, his eyesight was blurry. He was so pissed, if Tyler hurt her in any way, he would kill him.

  He had to play his cards right once he got out of the car. He worried about this situation on the way here. Tyler didn’t know Marilyn was hiding in the truck and if he drove up, Tyler would know something was up.

  He put his hand on the door handle, took a deep breath and stepped out.

  "Blake, my friend, looks like you came at the wrong time," Tyler smirked.

  He made Blake sick, "I'm not your friend. Being part-owner wasn't good enough for you, man?"

  "Come on, I have bigger things in life that aren't going to be taken care of by owning only half of a small-town brewery. Bills to pay. Besides, how'd you figure out it was me?"

  Blake hesitated. He wasn't quite sure what to say.

  "I put a tracker underneath the truck and the minute it started veering away from its delivery destinations, I started following it." He hoped that sounded truthful.

  "You're a pretty good businessman, Blake, but following me wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done."

  Tyler finally walked over toward Blake. They were standing about a foot apart. Blake itched to throw blows at him. He'd love to rip his fucking head off right now for scaring the shit out of him and for taking his beer. You don't mess with a man and his brew.

  "It looks to me it was. What are you going to do about it anyway, Tyler?" Blake stepped closer.

  Tyler threw a right hook first, knocking Blake square in the jaw, the force making Blake unsteady on his feet. Blake lunged at Tyler, both of them going down to the ground. Blake had the advantage of being on top and with all his pent up anger over Tyler harming Marilyn, Blake began hitting Tyler with all his might.

  Marilyn didn't realize tears were streaming down her face until she felt her nose running. She had to get a grip. She heard Blake pull up. Heard the confrontation and what sounded like fighting. At first she had heard the other men standing close to the truck yelling their praises at Tyler until one of the guys insisted Tyler needed help. What did that mean? Were they all going to start fighting Blake? Deep breaths, deep breaths Angel, you can do this. She pulled herself together and, for good measure, took a few more deep breaths. At this point she could hear the scuffling and sounds of Blake being hit by the guys. She could hear the guys yelling and cussing at him for showing up, thinking he was smart - where in the fuck were the police? She had to get out there and help him. Would they beat him so badly that it could kill him? How could she have just met the man of her dreams only to have him taken from her in such a short time? No. That last thought did it for he
r.

  With steady hands, she reached inside her purse and grabbed her gun. She pushed the safety off, set her purse aside and slowly stood up. From her vantage point she watched as Blake tried to put up a fight against each one of the guys that went after him. When one had gotten his fill, the next guy stepped in. Try as he might, he couldn't keep up with them though. Her heart hurt. She could feel the weight of the hurt dragging it down as she slowly inched forward with all her love. Trying to go slow so she didn't draw attention, she made it to the end of the truck. Her white dress was a mess, she was certain her eyes were bloodshot from crying and there was her man trying to put up a fight against four other men. They got him to the ground were they began kicking him over and over repeatedly.

  She needed to get their attention. She did what any normal girl would do. Arms steady, she lifted the gun, got in her best shooter's stance and aimed at the left tire of the other truck. The sound of the gunshot filled the air. The tire popped. All of the men jumped away from Blake as if their life depended on it. And it did, thought Marilyn. She was no longer scared. She was in a don't-fuck-with-me kind of mood.

  "Marilyn? What the fuck are you doing here?" Tyler seemed genuinely befuddled.

  "Back up!" She yelled. "All of you. Back away from him. Move," She screamed.

  She kept her Smith and Wesson trained on them, willing them away from Blake. She couldn't focus much on him but she saw that his eyes were squinting up at her, his head coming slightly off the ground.

  "You bastard," she began. "I heard you on the phone when you came into the loading area for the shipment. How could you do this? I knew something was going on with you that day you stopped by the book store and came unglued. I knew it!" She stomped her foot for emphasis.