by Katie Ashley
I shook my head. “You couldn’t have possibly known a simple trip to Olive’s would be dangerous.”
“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”
Creepy Voice crossed the room and smacked Catcher across the face. “Shut yer yappin’!”
Catcher gritted his teeth while venom burned in his eyes. John Deere dragged me over to the beam. He shoved me down on the floor. Creepy Voice tossed him some rope, which he used to tie my wrists and ankles together. Unlike Catcher, he didn’t tie me to be beam. Of course, considering how I was trussed up, it wasn’t like I was going to be able to run anywhere.
Once I was tied up, the Redneck Twins wrapped a gag around both of our mouths before leaving us alone. An eternity seemed to pass. It felt like hours, but it might’ve only been a few minutes. It was in those moments that my love life flashed before my eyes, and I relived my past.
I was jolted from my thoughts by the work shed door opening. A tall, lanky man stepped inside the room. He wore a white button-down shirt with no tie, and a pair of black dress pants. A pungent smelling cigar was in his mouth. On top of his head was the worst toupee I’d ever seen, and that was saying a lot since I’d worked on a lot of bald men in my funeral days.
I knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was Ronald Krump. Of course, my gaze couldn’t help zeroing in on his crotch. Even in what could have been my final moments, I couldn’t help wondering what a reconstructed penis looked like. Did it feel like a dildo or smooth like real skin? And where did the extra parts come from to rebuild it? I mean, it wasn’t like men were lining up to donate their penises. It certainly wasn’t on the checklist for organ donations. I wondered if he would grant me a last request by dropping his pants and showing it off.
“Well, well. I have to say you two are a surprise. I had my men come up here to detain the bitch who helped take away my manhood, and instead of her, we get you two.”
A relieved breath whooshed out of my nose. They hadn’t killed Olive. Thankfully, she hadn’t been home and was safe somewhere.
Krump crossed the room to stand in front of us. He jerked Catcher’s gag away. “Agent Mains, it’s so nice to finally meet the man who has been putting so much heat on my ass these last few months.”
“You’re The Shadow?” Catcher questioned incredulously. I was just as surprised as he was.
“Yes. I am.”
“But how the hell is that possible? The Shadow has a drug operation that’s been underway for over a year. You didn’t get out of prison until six months ago.”
“There’s a simple explanation for that. While I ran the operation from inside the big house, my two associates, that you just had the privilege of meeting, did all the leg work on the inside.”
“That’s why your appearance kept changing with people’s descriptions.”
Ronald grinned. “Pretty ingenious, isn’t it?”
“How did you even get started on the drug trade when you were inside?” Catcher inquired.
“When it looked like I would get paroled, I knew I needed to start working on building a new life when I got outside. Through a few contacts on the inside, I hooked up with Larry and Daryl, and the business was launched. Things were rolling along until my old enemy in the mafia, Delaney, got wind of what I was doing and decided to pull a snitch.” Ronald shook his head. “A little bit of cyanide took care of him.”
“What about Randy?” I questioned behind my gag.
Ronald left Catcher’s side to come stand before me. He cocked his brows before snatching away my gag. “And just what is it you wanted to know?” He ran his fingers across my face, causing me to shudder in revulsion. He licked his lips. “You sure are a pretty thing, aren’t you?”
“I asked about Randy.”
A sour look came over Ronald’s expression. “Oh yes, how could I forget about Randy Dickinson? The man who ruined my life.”
“It was your choice to take a non-FDA approved male-enhancement drug,” I countered.
Ronald’s nostrils flared in anger. “You shut your damn mouth!” he snarled. He raised his hand to hit me, but then he lowered it. He began pacing in front of me. “Do you have any idea what it is like to lose your penis? To have the one part of you that makes you a man violently taken away from you.”
When he paused for me to reply, I quickly said, “Um, no. I don’t.” I knew better than to argue that as a woman, I didn’t have a penis, so I just couldn’t relate to having my manhood taken. He was already so mentally unhinged I didn’t want to do anything else to set him off.
“I was just looking for a good time—something to make sex interesting again. When it came to fucking, I’d done just about everything there was out there. Except for doing a dude. I needed something to take me to the next level. Then I hear about this guy who made a drug that could make sex out of this world.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Randy was a pharmacist, for fuck’s sake. He worked with drugs every day. Why shouldn’t I have trusted him? How was I to know he was working with some backwoods hoodoo psycho to make some of his drugs?”
He exhaled a trail of foul-smelling smoke in my face. “He had to pay for what he did to me. It didn’t take me too long to find him. But I took my time about killing him—I had to get the logistics just right. Through my drug connections, I was able to bribe someone in the security company that handled Randy’s account to deactivate his security system. Fucker was fast asleep in dreamland. Of course, I made sure to wake him up, so I knew the last thing he saw was my face.”
“You sure aren’t worried about running your mouth off to us, are you?” Catcher asked.
Ronald sneered at him. “What does it matter if I confess to you two? You’re going to be dead in ten minutes.”
His words sent an icy chill down my spine, and I shuddered. Glancing over my shoulder at Catcher, I desperately hoped he had some kind of plan to get us out of this mess. But the ashen expression on his face caused my hope to shrivel.
The Redneck Twins appeared in the doorway. “You ready, boss?” John Deere asked.
“Yeah. I am. Go ahead and untie them.” Ronald tossed his cigar onto the floor and stomped out the embers. Then he glanced at Catcher and me. “You two are going to take a little walk into the woods with my associates.” He flashed us a maniacal smile. “It’s nothing personal. I just can’t have you on my ass anymore, Agent Mains.” He took a step toward me. “And as for you, well, I’m sorry, but you know too much to keep you around.” After motioning for the twins, he started for the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to the shithole that witch calls a house to wait on her to come home.”
With a flick of his wrist in farewell, he headed out the door. John Deere got busy untying my ankles. He then yanked me up off the floor before he untied my hands. After having my legs tied, they were wobbly, and I stumbled several times on the way to the door.
As I started out of Olive’s shack, I fought the tears threatening to overrun my eyes. I couldn’t believe it had really come to this—being murdered in the backwoods by a member of the Dixie Mafia who had once had his penis blown off. My worst fear of dying unmarried had come to fruition. After years of judging people’s lives as I wrote their obituaries, I couldn’t help judging my own.
Olivia Sullivan, 30, Beloved daughter and sister. Co-owner and proprietor of Sullivan’s Funeral Home. Coroner for Taylorsville County. Spinster.
Because I was the county coroner, I would get a decent write-up in the local newspaper. I hoped Allen would remember where I had left the instructions for my funeral. Being dead would suck, but it would suck even worse with my mother making all the decisions. Or worse, if Pease was doing it.
Peering over my shoulder, I threw a final glance at Catcher. Although I might be dying unmarried, I had at least found love in the eleventh hour. It would have been nice to have a future with him. To fill the house he had built with our children. To grow old and gray together. I couldn’t hold in my emotions any longer, and I be
gan to quietly weep.
When we started into the woods, a low growl echoed around us. I whirled around just as a white ball of fur came hurtling at us. At first, I thought it might be a mountain lion or a coyote. But then my heart surged when I realized it was Motown.
He lunged at John Deere, knocking him to the ground. As Motown started using John Deere as a chew toy, Catcher swung into action. He started throwing punches at Creepy Voice.
John Deere writhed on the ground as Motown snarled and snapped like a mad dog. I’d never seen him act like that. When Catcher got Creepy Voice down on the ground, I yelled his name. As soon as he glanced up, I tossed the shotgun that John Deere had abandoned over to him.
Catcher picked it up just as Creepy Voice lunged at him. The shotgun’s blast took me off guard. It also caused Motown to momentarily quit mauling John Deere. It was then that Catcher sank to the ground, blood pouring down his leg. My mouth gaped open wide to scream, but nothing came out.
At that moment, the woods became alive with a flurry of activity. Men came running out of nowhere outfitted in black jackets with the words GBI emblazoned on the back. There were a few Gilmer County Sheriff deputies as well. The agents I’d met at Randy’s, Solano and Capshaw, knelt down beside Catcher.
A GBI Agent jogged up to me. “Ma’am, are you okay?”
I started to brush past him. “Ma’am?” he asked again.
“I’m fine. I swear.” I didn’t have time for this bullshit. I needed to get to Catcher to make sure he was all right. From what I could see over the agent’s shoulder, Catcher’s eyes were closed, and he wasn’t moving.
Once the agent let me go, I raced over to him. “Catcher?” I cried as I sank to the ground beside him.
His eyes popped open. “Hey, Liv-Bug.”
“Oh, my God, are you okay?”
“Just peachy.”
Fearing he was going into shock, I countered, “You were shot.”
“Tis but a scratch,” he teased with the line from Monty Python and The Holy Grail.
I glanced over to where Solano had ripped open Catcher’s pants leg to examine the bullet wound. Over the years, I’d seen enough shotgun wounds. I feared at close range it might be a pretty extensive wound. But at first glance, it didn’t look that bad.
Agent Solano snorted. “He’s right about the scratch thing. The bullet grazed him more than anything. He’s practically a miracle. A couple more inches, and it would have nicked his femoral artery.”
“And you would have bled out,” I said to Catcher.
When Catcher nodded almost nonchalantly, I fought the urge to smack him. Just hearing how close he had come to death sent the shakes rolling through me. I didn’t know how he was taking things so calmly.
Catcher flashed me a wicked grin. “It’s even more miraculous that a few more inches to the right, and I might’ve lost my dick.”
Clenching my fists at my side, I had to hold myself back from strangling him. “How can you think about your dick at a time like this?!”
He frowned. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to make the situation a little lighter.”
My emotional dam broke at that moment, sending tears streaming down my cheeks. “You could have died.” I sniffled. “I could have lost you.”
“But you didn’t. I’m going to be fine. A few stitches and I’ll be good as new.”
I swiped my runny nose with the back of my hand. Since I was used to dealing with dead people, I wasn’t sure how to gage the wounds of the living. “Really?”
“Well, Solano isn’t a paramedic or doctor, but I value his opinion.”
When I glanced over at Agent Solano, he grinned at me. “Yeah, he’s going to be fine.”
Those simple words had me losing it again. I buried my head in Catcher’s chest and wept unabashedly. “Babe, it’s okay. I’m okay,” Catcher murmured in my ear.
“I know. I just can’t bear to think about how I almost lost you.” I rose up to stare him in the eye. “I love you, Catcher Mains. I know we barely know each other, and it’s incredibly fast, but I know that I love you. It’s been coming on for a while, but when the Redneck Twins took us out on our death march, I knew then how much I loved you.”
With Agent Solano hanging on to my every word, I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction Catcher might have. I imagined him going all macho Han Solo and saying, “I know,” to my “I love you.” But instead, he leaned forward and brought his lips to mine. “I love you, too.”
“Awwww,” Solano said.
“Bite me,” Catcher grumbled against my lips.
The paramedics arrived then, and one began working on Catcher’s leg. I held his hand as the paramedic began to clean the wound. “Glad I got you. I’m sure my partner is having a hell of a time taking care of those dog lacerations.”
It was then that I remembered poor Motown. I rose to my feet and whistled for him. He came charging up and began to lick me. Ordinarily I was okay with that, but at the moment, he was covered in John Deere’s blood. The paramedic passed me an extra towel from his bag, and I began to wipe Motown down.
“You are such a good dog,” I cooed as I scratched his ears.
“That’s a pretty heroic pooch there to take on the bad guys,” the paramedic replied.
“Yes, he is. After he has a bath, I’m going to make sure he has a nice, juicy steak.” I glanced at Catcher and grinned. “I’ll be giving both my men some TLC tonight.”
“Lucky us,” Catcher mused.
I momentarily paused in wiping Motown down. “There’s one thing I’m wondering about.”
“Like what does Krump’s reconstructed dick look like? I’m sure we could pull his pants down before they take him away.”
I rolled my eyes at Catcher. “No. That’s not it. I was wondering how your fellow agents knew to come here.”
“When I got to the front door, I noticed it was slightly ajar—something Olive would never do considering the way she felt about leaving the door open the day we were here. I went ahead and took out my phone, so that I could press the panic button to the agency if I needed to. Once I got inside, the Redneck Twins, as you call them, ambushed me. Thankfully, I got to press the button before they had me drop my phone. Then I just tried to play it cool like there wasn’t anyone on the way.” Catcher shot Solano a look. “Of course, these fuckers took their own sweet-ass time getting here.”
“I would second that,” I said.
Solano held up his hands. “My apologies. But do keep in mind how you guys were in the Boonies. It’s not so easy to get out here.”
“Speaking of Krump, did you guys get him?” I asked Solano.
“Sure did. We nabbed him just as he was starting back into Ms. Thornhill’s cabin.”
Inwardly, I did a fist pump at the news. It was nice knowing that he would be going back to prison. Of course with Randy and Mr. Delaney’s murders on his hands, he would be going for life.
“Okay. We’re ready to transfer you to the ambulance now,” the paramedic said.
“Can you walk?” Solano asked Catcher.
“Yeah. As long as I don’t put any weight on this leg.”
“I’ll help you.”
Solano and the paramedic lifted Catcher up before each one put Catcher’s arms on their shoulders. Catcher winced and sucked in a harsh breath, but he hobbled along down the hillside before collapsing onto stretcher. “Motherfucker,” he hissed.
“Ma’am, you want to ride with us?” the paramedic asked.
“Yes. But my dog has to come along with us.”
“I guess we can make some allowances for a hero dog.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
Motown and I walked along the side of Catcher’s stretcher. “I’m probably going to get a plaque for this,” Catcher remarked.
“Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Considering I was wounded in the line of fire taking down a notorious drug dealer and his thugs.”
“If you get honored by the bureau, I will be sitti
ng in the front row, taking pictures and cheering you on.”
Catcher beamed. “So it’s a date, huh?”
“Yep. It’s a date.”
I had a feeling it was going to be one of many dates I would have with Catcher. Our future seemed bright.
As the organ music struck up the familiar chords of Here Comes the Bride, I sucked in a deep breath and tried to once again still my out-of-control nerves. The last thing I needed was to face-plant while walking up the aisle. Today was my big day—the one I’d waited what felt like a lifetime for.
My wedding day.
Allen offered me his arm. “Ready, sis?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
He gave me a warm smile. “You’ve been ready for this for years. You’ve been through hell to get here, and you deserve all the happiness in the world. This is your time to shine.”
I blinked a few times at him in disbelief. When had my baby brother become so wise and supportive of both matrimony and me? “Oh Allen,” I murmured.
“Now quit bitching and get your ass down the aisle,” he commanded.
Laughter bubbled from my lips. “That sounds more like you.”
Since I couldn’t have my father walk me down the aisle, I had asked Allen. He had seemed touched in the moment, but then when it came to tuxedo fittings and other wedding oriented events, he had pissed and moaned.
The wedding coordinator waved her hand furiously at us like, “Let’s get the show on the road.”
After sliding my arm through Allen’s, I took one last calming breath before taking a step forward. The double doors to the First Baptist’s sanctuary swung open while every head in the house whirled around to catch a glimpse of me in my strapless ivory gown with the beaded, satin bodice and fluffy toile bottom. A glittering tiara held my long, flowing veil in place. It cascaded over my shoulders to lie against my long train.
Although I could feel every eye on me, there was only one particular pair I was interested in. A set of ocean-blue, bedroom eyes. The ones that belonged to my future husband.
When I saw him, I momentarily faltered in my march down the aisle. God, he looked so gorgeous in his tux. Like James Bond. Instead of his signature drop-dead-sexy smile, he wore an expression of absolute awe. It was the look every bride hopes and prays she sees on her groom’s face. The one that makes you fall in love with him all over again.
