Oliver (This is Our Life Book 3)

by F. G. Adams

  “Ya know, Ollie, my grams used to tell me when I was havin’ trouble ‘The moment you give up, is the moment you let life win.’”

  Nodding my understanding, I tell him, “It hurts, man.”

  I clutch my chest.

  “Sometimes I feel like I’ve got a fucking boulder sitting on my chest. Suffocating me,” I say as I tuck my chin to my chest.

  The pain is excruciating at times, and I don’t know if I can let it go, ever.

  “Right. I hear ya. And what do we do when we feel trapped?” Keagan asks.

  Pausing for a few minutes, I look over to find Keagan staring at me with his intense blue gaze. Awaiting my answer. One we both know very well.

  “We fight back,” I say.

  “Hoorah,” we chant together.

  “Now, get the fuck up! We’ve got a plane to catch, a desert to conquer, and a war to win.”

  1

  Oliver

  Present Day

  I’ve learned that life is about trusting your feelings. Taking chances, finding happiness, learning from the past, and realizing everything changes. Even when you least expect it or don’t want it to.

  “I've got jack shit, Keagan. Nothing but dead ends so far. There’s one more stop before I call it quits over here. Looks like it could be promising. If it doesn’t pan out, I’ll be heading back in the a.m.”

  My current location is Seattle, and I’ve been driving around the state of Washington for a week. The bread crumbs we found before I left Lakeview sent me on a wild goose chase.

  First, to a beautiful coastal town in southeast Texas. Then Missouri, Montana, even Sleepy Hollow, New York. Each and every time, I found a scrap of evidence that led somewhere else, to some other place. It’s the never-ending search for Fallyn Blackwood and her baby girl, Harper…it’s like she’s a fucking ghost.

  The current trace brought me to a place that Washington residents refer to as the Desert Region, the Tri-Cities. A dustbowl located on the border of Oregon, smack dab at the bottom middle of the state.

  That didn’t pan out, either. Which is why I’m here now, on the Pacific Coast. So far, every trail comes up cold and dreary, just like the weather here in this dismal coastal city.

  I maneuver the compact vehicle through the crowded streets of Seattle. Pulling onto a side street to park the car, glancing over, I see the well-worn picture taped on the dashboard. A young girl with long, straight, dirty-blond hair and sad hazel-green eyes stares back at me. A smile is pasted across her face, as if she hated having her picture taken. The creases that cross her forehead and the desolation in her eyes tell me a story of shame and sadness. Haunted. I know that look. Too well. Clutched in her arms is a beautiful baby girl with a shock full of dark hair. Gorgeous.

  From the moment Keagan handed me the photo, something inside of me woke up. A switch turned on again. It gave me a purpose that I’d long since forgotten. My gut told me that no matter what, I had to find her and bring her home. I had to help the mysterious girl in the photo.

  Locating the duo has turned into a permanent project of mine over the past few years. One I never intended to spend so much time on. I’ve learned that just like everything else with the Blackwood family, it’s complicated. But I don’t plan on letting Keagan or Jocelyn down.

  “Ollie...you with me, Bishop?” Keagan mutters into the phone.

  Fuck, what’d he say?

  “Yeah, man. I’m here. Say again,” I reply due to my lack of attention and meandering thoughts.

  “Can you hear me?”

  “Affirmative. I had to pull over. Talk to me,” I respond to his query.

  “Luc and Mac have a solid lead. They’re checking a few more angles before contact. We should have intel by the evening hour. Check out your final tip and then wait for further instructions. I have a good feelin’ about this one.” Keagan sighs into the phone.

  Finding Fallyn and her daughter is taking a toll on all of us. Sure, I’m out in the field, away from everyone I care about, and I’ve missed so much already. Well, back in Lakeview, my home since I came back from my last tour of duty. I’ve grown fond of the place and the people who live there. As a result of the mission, I’ve only had a chance to go back once for a couple of days. Same goes for my homestead in Arkansas.

  Keagan married Jocelyn last year, an impromptu wedding on the beach. One I missed. The same day I left my mark, when I called at the end of the ceremony thinking I had found them. That was a punch in the gut. We were all disappointed.

  Lukas has something brewing with a southern belle he’s been droning on and on about. He’s dropped a few hints here and there. Can’t wait to meet her and find out more. And tease the shit out of him.

  “Got it. I’m headin’ out to the coast, a town called Aberdeen. About a two-hour drive. It was last on the list. Afterwards, I’ll wait for further instructions,” I concede.

  “Good. We have to be close, Ols. I need to find them for my angel,” Keagan mumbles over the line. “This is so fucked up. She needs her sister back home safe.”

  I smile. Luckily, he can’t see it. He would pound me. Keagan’s getting better about sharing his feelings but hates it with a fucking passion. That’s what love does to a man. Sappy shit. Who would’ve ever thought Keagan Fontneau would be whipped? I’ll keep that little tidbit to myself. I’m happy for him, though. Jocelyn suits him.

  “Soon, man. It’s gonna happen. I’ll be waiting to hear from the guys. We’ll talk again later.”

  “Ten-Four. Oh, and Ollie? Stay out of trouble,” Keagan jokingly taunts me.

  “Me? Trouble? Those two words don’t even register in my world, K,” I chide back.

  “Yes, they do. With a capital OLIVER. Don’t make me bail your sorry ass out of jail again. You will not like me when I see you again, you sorry motherfucker,” Keagan laughs.

  “What? That wasn’t my fault, man,” I pass back.

  “Not your fault, huh?” he provokes.

  “Negative. You know how I am with a woman in distress. My momma would whoop my bare ass if I didn’t help out a lady in need. She taught me better than that,” I say.

  “Yep, yours and mine both,” Keagan banters back with a chuckle.

  I laugh again thinking about the very first stop I made down in Texas. I went to a local bar, hoping to relax, have a beer and catch the game. I had just walked in, making my way to the tap. A tall, lanky jerk pushed past me, bumping into my arm and shoving me just a little. Let’s face it, I’m a big guy and it takes a bigger man to move me. He was dragging behind him an unwilling young woman, kicking and screaming. No one helping her.

  “What the fuck!” I shouted, getting all up in the guy’s face.

  The situation was not cool, and I wouldn’t let him take her outside. It was a bad situation that could turn brutal in seconds.

  “Back off, dude. Mind your own business,” jerk guy replied in his dick-faced state of mind. As he looked up and realized who he was talking to, his eyes grew wide.

  “Let her go, dude,” I said unyieldingly.

  That’s when the cocksucker reared back and tried to hit me. Tried being the operative word here. I guess he thought it was his only choice. Been there, done that. I ducked, then came back with my own one-two and knocked the sucker out cold. What I didn’t realize was that the bartender had already called the cops. Needless to say, we both took a trip down to the local police station.

  “I’d do it again, K.”

  “Yeah, I’da done the same, Ollie. Just be careful. Catch ya, later, dude,” Keagan replies and hangs up.

  “Son of a b—” I say to the disconnected line. Prick.

  I drop the phone onto the passenger seat and pull back onto the street. GPS on, guiding me to my destination, I find my way to I-5 South toward Portland. I travel for a little while then take the exit for 101 North up toward Aberdeen, Washington. The information I found in Seattle all points to a house located on the outskirts of town.

  When I arrive in the neighborhood two
hours later, I pull in the driveway of a nondescript, white house with black trim. At the looks of the home, it appears to be abandoned. By my estimate, the grass hasn’t been cut in a few months. Wouldn’t you know? Once again, a day late and a dollar short.

  Easing out of the car, I survey the area. An elderly couple is sitting on the front porch next door. They are watching me carefully. Time for a little ingenuity infiltration; my expertise.

  “Evenin’, folks,” I call out as I walk toward them.

  “Evening,” the old man greets as he stares at the holes in my jeans, stonewashed rocker band t-shirt, and my Razorbacks hat. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

  He attempts to stand up from the rocking chair, creating a barrier between me and his woman. Smart man. A small grimace crosses his face as he does.

  “No, sir. I’m from Arkansas. Just passin’ through, lookin’ for an old friend.”

  I stop right at the end of the sidewalk. I don’t want to intimidate with my large size.

  “She told me she’d be here. But from the looks of the place”—I point to the house—“I think I may have the wrong address.” I fake a short laugh.

  “Old friend, huh?”

  The old man eyes me carefully. He’s skeptical.

  “Yes, sir. We knew each other back in high school. I’m on leave, in the army. She told me to look her up once I got stateside. We were pen pals, over the Internet,” I spin the story, weaving the falsehood in and out, watching the elderly couple’s reaction to my every word.

  “Oh, yeah?” he asks.

  “Correct, sir. I wanted to visit with her and her little girl,” I add the last part to see if there’s recognition in who I’m referring to.

  The look the man gives his wife is all I need to continue with the obscure interrogation of the couple.

  “Do you happen to know who lived here last? Am I at the right address? I only have a few days of leave until I’ll have to be back. I’m shippin’ out again. Kabul this time. Terrible place over there,” I babble on and on. Tearing down the walls of skepticism and waiting patiently for the old timer to give in.

  “Well, young man. There was a girl who lived here. About yea high.” He holds his hand up to his chest. “But she’s been gone a while now. I’d say almost two months. Sweet little lady. Best renters we’ve had in a long while. Even though they were only here three months,” he says as he smiles and looks to his wife, whose face reflects his own.

  “That teenager of hers, though. My goodness. She’d worry the wort off a witch, I tell ya,” the lady chimes in.

  “She’s a feisty one. Little woman has her hands full with her,” the man continues.

  “So, you’ve seen them?” I ask, a little too anxious, so I add, “Fallyn and Harper used to live here?”

  I’m hoping the last part will seal the deal or tell me I’m on the wrong trail once again.

  Smiling, the old woman stands up and props herself against the porch railing beside her husband.

  She looks over at me and says, “Yes, but they’re gone, hon. You’re too late. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you with you all chatting over the inter-whatchamacallit.”

  I chuckle from her definition of today’s technology.

  “No, ma'am. The last time I spoke with her was a little over two months ago. It makes sense now why she stopped communicating with me.”

  “That’s a pity. That girl sure could use a good man in her life. And you seem like just the kind of young man she needs,” she says.

  “Thank you, ma'am.” I smile back at her. Not gonna be me, lady. I continue, “Do you know what happened or where they went to?”

  “Nope, not a clue. One day they were here, and the next morning gone. The car was gone. An envelope was on our front porch with next month’s rent and the key to the house. Not a note or anything,” the man conveys with a hint of disappointment.

  “They must’ve left in a hurry, though. When we went over to clean the house to get it ready for new tenants, everything was still there. The furniture, pots and pans, even sheets and towels. It’s the strangest thing, really. I sure hope they’re okay,” the woman says sadly.

  My mind is reeling from the revelation. Fallyn and Harper left in a hurry. That means one of two things. A, she knows I’m on her tail, or B, the Cabricci family is closing in on her.

  “Thank you for your help. If you happen to hear from her, tell her Blackwood misses her.”

  The old woman smiles and grabs her husband's hand in hers.

  “Of course, hon, but I don’t think we will. You take care now. Be careful overseas and thank you for your service.”

  I nod my head, tipping my hat with my hand. “Ma'am. Sir.”

  I hated lying to the old couple, but it was the only way to get the intel I need.

  A bust. Yet again I’ve been foiled by the infamous Fallyn Blackwood. It’s like she knows every move before I make it.

  I return to the airport hotel by twenty-two hundred hours. It’s pitch dark outside, and the monstrous roars from airplanes taking off and landing annoy the hell out of me. Usually, mundane things like that just roll off my back, but not today. I’m pissed off that I was so close to finding Fallyn I could taste it. So close to ending this quest.

  After taking a quick shower and packing up my bags, I prop myself up on the pillows at the head of the bed. Spreading out my legs to set up the pizza box in between them, I begin to devour the barbecue chicken and jalapeño pizza I had delivered. My newest fave. A fresh beer sits right next to me.

  My phone rings a few bites in.

  “Talk to me,” I answer with a full mouth after I swipe my finger across the screen.

  Reaching over, I take a sip of beer and swallow the food.

  “Ollie, my main man. How the hell is the Pacific Northwest treating ya?” Lukas greets me with laughter in his voice.

  He knows exactly how things are going, the giant shit.

  “Don’t fuck with me, Jolly Green. Not in the mood. Whatcha got for me?”

  I’m down to business. The jokes aren’t working tonight.

  “Whoa, hold your horses, man. What got stuck up your ass, cocksucker?”

  I realize I’m not my normal self today. Stuck in a funk, romping around the US of A, trying to find a ghost. Not his fault, though.

  Lukas and I are tight. A brother from another mother, just like my man, Keagan. We’re all large men in height and stature, a scary bunch if you came up on us in a dark alley. Although, Lukas towers us all. The name Jolly Green stuck with his massive frame and the way he moves with a commanding knowledge, a giant among men like the powerful god Zeus.

  I shouldn’t take my shit day out on him.

  “Man, I’m just tired, is all. This place sucks balls, Luc. And not in the good way. Just can’t wait to come home. Believe it or not, I miss fucking Roxy and her slobbering mess. I miss my bed. Hell, I even miss your Jolly Green Giant ass.”

  More laughter erupts over the line. The tension’s gone.

  “Well, today’s your lucky day, Ols. I’ve got some good news. I believe I can make that happen sooner than you think,” Lukas says.

  “Just what I want to hear, Luc. I need some good news. I went out to Aberdeen earlier and just missed her by two months. Fallyn Blackwood is smart, man. Resourceful and sneaky. She’s one step ahead of us. Every single time.”

  “Yep, you’re right, my friend. I’ve got an answer for that, too. Listen up, Matilda has been at it again. That’s one slick lady, I’ll tell you what. Seems to me that’s where Fallyn gets it. Matilda takes care of her own really well. But she finally slipped up. And that’s where Mac and I come in,” Lukas affirms.

  “Okay, spill. The suspense is killing me, man,” I plead. I’m at my wit’s end.

  “We piggybacked onto her incoming and outgoing calls and emails. She’s been a busy beaver. Once we waded through all the nonsense, well, we found her. We found out where Matilda sent her this time, Ollie. And it’s a sure thing.”

>   “Wait, you know where Fallyn and Harper are? At this very moment?”

  The excitement in my voice is palpable. This could all be over soon. I need it to be over.

  “BFE Virginia, homey. A little hole-in-the-wall town called Rescue. She’s been there a little over a month. As far as I can tell, she’s setting up house, Ollie.”

  “Fuck, yeah. That’s great news. And Keagan?”

  “Yeah, he’s not willing to say anything to Jocelyn yet. He wants you to make sure it’s for real. Even though I’ve assured the cranky bald guy it’s one hundred percent,” Lukas replies.

  “Of course, it is, brother. Understood. I’m on the next flight out. Wait. Where do I fly in if it’s a little Podunk town?” I ask Lukas.

  “Don’t go all cock crazy, man. You need to rest tonight and be ready. I’ve already scheduled you a flight for first thing in the morning. Seven a.m. sharp. I’ll send the information to your phone after we hang up. It’s a pit-stop flight, connecting in Atlanta and then on to Norfolk. From there, I’ve rented you a truck. Should be right up your alley, hammerhead. It’s about a twenty-five-minute drive to Rescue. You’ll just need to find a place to hole up until you can achieve contact with Fallyn and talk her into coming home. Smithfield is a good location,” Lukas finishes up with his instructions, and my stomach begins to churn.

  “Yeah, like that’s gonna be a cake walk,” I say with uneasiness.

  “Nobody said it would be easy, Ollie. But you volunteered for this shit. Just remember that, Casanova,” Lukas reminds me of my job.

  “Right. What was I thinking? Okay, Luc. I’ll contact you once I touch down. The sooner I get there and make contact with her, the better. I have a bad feeling from this last move; she was running scared. We have to find her fast.”

  Lukas and I disconnect the call, and I check my phone for the flight information. My appetite is gone, so I clean up the pizza and beer.

  I knew I’d eventually find out where Fallyn is hiding. The only problem now is, I have to bring her in. Confront her and gain her trust. From what I’ve gathered, she doesn’t trust anyone, except for Matilda. But that box is locked up tight.