Red on the Run (The Syndicate-Born Trilogy Book 1)

by K. M. Hodge

  Katherine looked down at the scrap of cloth, which had seen better days. “My something old and borrowed.” She took the fabric and blotted away the tears that threatened to put her carefully put together face to ruin. “Betty hand-stitched them for him, you know?”

  She smiled at the memories they invoked. “He gave me this one the night we met. We were standing outside a bar after a run-in with Charles, and I burst into tears. I was so embarrassed!” Her thumb traced the careful stitching. “He told me to just hold onto it, and I never gave it back to him. I used to carry it with me everywhere. I even had it....” She swallowed hard before continuing. “I had it with me the day he died.”

  “Katherine, do you love Ben? Love him enough?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think so. I have to stop comparing everything to what I had with Alex. I know that. Ben is a good man.”

  Ellie shrugged. “Then I guess you have your answer.”

  Katherine sniffed as she clutched the kerchief to her chest. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

  “We should probably fix up your makeup then. Shall we?” Ellie’s lips curled into a sad half-moon smile that never made it to her eyes.

  Katherine gave her friend a quick hug. “Thank you.”

  “All right, enough with the waterworks. Let’s get down to business.”

  Katherine took out her makeup. She had a wedding to go to—her third. Maybe this time it will stick. After all, the third time’s a charm.

  Chapter 25

  Unknown Building

  Unknown Location

  October 11, 2024

  6:00 PM

  ~~~

  A lull had fallen on those born under The Syndicate, and for the men and women who had brought them to justice. They had all moved on—buried their loved ones, moved away, married, and did all the things people do as they live out their ordinary existence.

  While the others had been pacified by the ordinary world, one man had been waiting and plotting for the next chapter. It was all about to begin, and no one knew it was coming.

  He had worked all through the night, planning and setting everything in motion. Being in charge wouldn’t be easy, but at least this time things would be done right. As he signed the final release form and messaged it to the Litchfield Psychiatric Facility, a sharp thrill ran down his spine—the intoxication of power.

  In just a few hours, he would have at his disposal a most terrifying creature—a creature whose black soulless eyes would leave even Charles Manson quaking in fear.

  “Billy,” he said, calling out his lowliest but most loyal man.

  “Yes, Boss?”

  “I’ve sent in the release paperwork. He’ll be eager to get back to work, and I have lots of work to keep him happy.” He handed the other man the paperwork.

  Billy held them between his shaking hands. “Y-yes, Boss.”

  “Good. Just be sure and keep him on the list. Oh, and Billy... don’t fuck this up.”

  ***

  Later that night as Bill lay sleeping under the influence of a powerful sedative, Sally went to work. She couldn’t believe her luck. Her stupid husband had been given the high distinction of being the new boss man’s pet.

  Every night, while he slept off the drugs she’d slipped into his dinner, she copied the papers he was supposed to be delivering to the high-level operatives. They had resorted to an old-fashioned paper trail because digital fingerprints were so much harder to clean up.

  She had to give it to the new boss: they shared that mistrust of technology.

  She stored copies of all the documents in a secure facility outside of town. She just had to sit and bide her time. It was about to start all over again, except maybe this time they would be stopped once and for all.

  ***

  Hollywood Cemetery

  Richmond, Virginia

  October 19, 2024

  3:00 PM

  ~~~

  Katherine tucked her graying hair behind her ear as she walked down the winding path to the gravesites of her previous husband and infant son, whom she’d lost so long ago. She sat between the two graves and pulled out a joint. She lit it, took a hit, and settled in. After twenty-six years of sobriety, cancer had finally knocked her off the wagon; the marijuana helped temper the pervasive nausea that was part and parcel of her cancer.

  She gathered her wool sweater around her rail-thin body, one of Doc’s that she had stolen years ago. Her sunken eyes and the fine lines that etched her mouth gave away not only her age, but the hard life she had lived—battle scars, she called them.

  “Alex....” Just saying his name brought tears to her eyes.

  God, I’m stoned.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been here to visit with you and Bailey.” She took another short puff. “I just couldn’t bring myself to come here. It was too hard. When I lost you and Bailey, all I wanted to do was die, just so I could get back to you both.”

  She took out one of his old handkerchiefs and wiped away the tears. “I got remarried, and he’s a good man, but he isn’t you. Everyone kept pushing me to date, to find someone.” The memory of that time seemed so long ago now. “So I did. I was lonely. I needed someone to pass the time with. It was hard at first, like I was being unfaithful to you. Ellie....”

  She paused to correct herself. “Doc kept telling me that you wouldn’t want me to pine away for you until the day I died. She and I have grown very close over the years. I don’t think I could have made it those first few years without her. You always said she and Chris were your only friends, and I can see why. This may surprise you, but she and Chris divorced awhile back. She’s remarried and living in Texas, but she comes to D.C. once a year and stays with me. She just flew home yesterday. I didn’t tell her about the cancer, though she mentioned how thin I was getting. It was exhausting trying to hide it from her, but I just couldn’t tell her.”

  Katherine tightened the sweater around her as the cool breeze sent a chill down her back. “She would worry and fuss. You know how she can get. I need to process it first. I know she’s going to be pissed at me, though.”

  She took another long drag. “The cancer’s spread faster than they had thought it would, and there’s nothing more they can do. I have another three to six months, if I’m lucky. They said to put my affairs in order. So I need you and Bailey to get ready for me, because I’m finally going to come home to you.”

  She stood and reached for a bright red branch from the bald cypress, broke it off, and placed it on Alex’s grave. “See you soon.”

  Her heart felt lighter. She wasn’t sure if it was because she had gotten all of it off her chest, or because she was stoned. Either way, she felt freer than she had in years.

  Soon it will be my new beginning, my new chapter.

  ***

  Church Hill

  Richmond, Virginia

  June 12, 2025

  8:00 PM

  ~~~

  Jason sat in the dark with a bottle of scotch beside him as he flipped through the digital newspaper he was proud to call his own. It had been a trying week for him, and he needed to forget, so he drank until he couldn’t feel anymore. She was dying—his best friend, the woman he loved.

  Two weeks ago they had fought over whether or not he should be there at the end. She had wanted to say her goodbyes before things got bad.

  The liquor burned his raw throat as he pulled up an online forum discussing the true crime novel he was working on. That was the other thing they had fought about.

  She’d said no good would come of digging up the past, insisting that he’d be poking a bear that for all intents and purposes was asleep. In the end, she agreed to allow him to write the story, but cautioned him once more to find another project.

  It was risky, sure, but he felt compelled to get the truth out. So many false reports had dominated the media for years. John Q. Public had no idea the extent of the crimes that The Syndicate had unleashed upon the communities and people around them. They didn’t know the personal co
st that everyone involved had paid.

  The fallout from that year was still being felt seventeen years later.

  He wanted to honor those who had gone up against the beast with all they had. Most of the news stories practically glorified The Syndicate, and he was tired of it.

  As he drank the last of the scotch and felt the hard pull of darkness that came with his blackouts, his smart watch’s message notification set him off like a tuning fork.

  It was over. She was gone.

  He felt the ending and the new beginning unfolding at once. The story wasn’t over; it had just begun.

  Epilogue

  Church Hill

  Richmond, Virginia

  June 15, 2025

  5:00 PM

  ~~~

  I reach into my handbag and pull out the folded paper that Katherine’s husband had handed me earlier at the funeral—her last letter. It shakes in my trembling hands.

  Once I read it, it will really be over, and that thought alone paralyzes me. I hand the letter to Chris. “Will you read it? I just can’t.”

  He nods in understanding, unfolds the letter, and begins to read it in his calm, baritone voice.

  ~~~

  Dear Ellie,

  This is the hardest thing I have ever written, because I know that you won’t be reading it until I have passed on. It’s a lot of pressure to come up with the right last words for your best friend.

  Are you mad at me for not telling you about the cancer sooner? I’m sorry if I hurt you. That’s the last thing I wanted to do. Maybe I should’ve told you when you were here last, but I selfishly wanted to enjoy our final visit together. If I had told you, you would have had me laid up in bed the whole two weeks and started researching alternative treatments or planning a fundraiser to pay my medical bills. These are all things that I love deeply about you, by the way.

  I cherish the time we’ve had together. Those six months we spent as roommates were some of the most carefree, fun experiences of my life. Leaving you is the hardest part of all this. I know it may sound off, but I’m ready to go. I want to see my son again. I want to see Alex. I want to tell your babies about how wonderful their mother is and how much I miss her, even in heaven. And I will miss you.

  I ask that you might keep an eye on my dad and Betty. Ever since Brian died, I’ve worried about Betty. Her health has not been good, but she will most certainly tell you differently. So don’t believe her for a second.

  I’ve given permission to Jason to write about all this, so if you want yourself to come off well, you might want to talk to him. I’d say to keep an eye on him too, but he doesn’t care to be minded these days. The consummate bachelor seems quite happy to stay that way. He is hell-bent on being the quintessential Hemingway in the woods, like his grandfather. He forgets that his grandfather had love once—a wife, a family. I blame myself a little for this.

  I want you to find love again, too. Live your life! Life is short. Happiness is fleeting. Enjoy each lovely moment as it happens. Find the joy that is out there and share it. But above all, find love.

  Love always,

  Katherine

  ~~~

  Chris folds it back up, looks at my tear-filled eyes, and hands it back to me.

  I put it back in my purse.

  He shifts in his position on the step and nods. “I remember.” He pauses as if weighing his next words. “I think I know what she meant to you, and how she helped you... helped you when I couldn’t.”

  My breath catches as I bring his hand up to my muted lips. A single unbidden tear slides down my cheek and onto our clasped hands, which are now baptized in our joint tears. He pulls me in closer still. Our heads nestle together in a familiar way that makes me think of home. A small imperceptible turn and the space between us ignites, and we join in a tender and familiar kiss.

  When he breaks from the kiss, his thoughtful and loving gaze penetrates through me in the way it always did. In his eyes are the remnants of all the hurt.

  The burden of that regret has been sitting in my back pocket all through the years. I have often wondered if I would ever get a chance to tell him I’m sorry, to tell him it was a mistake to leave.

  Now here he is, sitting beside me, and I’ve said nothing. So of course, I blurt it out in an awkward jumble. “I’m sorry.”

  His gaze lowers to our clasped hands, and finds the scar on my left wrist with his thumb—evidence of our old wounds. He pulls my wrist up to his chest and presses it against his beating heart. “Please don’t be sorry.”

  His forgiving words lift an age-old burden from me. A deep sigh escapes my lips and I begin to relax.

  His fingers work over mine, paying close attention to the bare ring finger.

  I wait for the inevitable questions, the thought bubbles that float around us begging to be spoken.

  He clears his throat. “I heard... I heard that you got married and ah... were living out west. That you had a couple of boys.” The last few words come out strained and laced with hurt from a shared wound.

  “I’m in the middle of a divorce, and the kids are his from his first marriage. It turns out I make a horrible stay-at-home army wife. His kids hate me and—”

  He cuts off my anxious words with his eager mouth, and the kiss deepens, leaving me breathless. He reaches up and cups the side of my face in his soft, warm hand, pulling me in, leaving me wanting more.

  It was always this way. From the moment I first met him at basic training, there were serious sparks. It didn’t take us long to become an item, engaged and married. Even near the end of our marriage, when everything was falling apart, we were drawn to each other. It was part of the reason I left for Texas in the first place. The passion never died out, even in the face of hurt and blame.

  The passing years have tempered the hurt, but the love and passion remain in full force. I feel like Alice. It would be so easy to plunge down into this familiar yet unknown rabbit hole.

  My muddled mind gives up trying to figure it all out as he deepens the kiss and pulls my compliant body closer to his.

  The sound of the doors opening behind us startle us out of our embrace, and our cheeks color in embarrassment as we stand up like two teenagers caught making out in the basement. He holds my hand in a firm grip, as if afraid he’ll lose me in the crowd of mourners filing out of the building and past us.

  They’re so lost in their own grief that they don’t even seem to notice us. We step aside to allow several groups to pass us. Katherine’s pallbearers carry her casket out the heavy wooden doors and down the steps to the hearse parked out front.

  “Goodbye....”

  As the hearse pulls away, Christopher pulls my body against his and brushes an errant hair behind my ear, something he always did that is both familiar and foreign to me now.

  Shyness creeps across his usually confident features. “Want to go and grab a bite to eat or something?”

  This chance—a gift, an answered prayer—leaves me feeling much like the young girl I used to be, full of hope and promise. “Yes, I think that would be lovely.”

  These past seventeen years we both grieved over the lives we didn’t live. We can let it go now. We can start again. Maybe this time we can make it right.

  ---THE END---

  But... there’s more! Please scroll down for extra content, including our BONUS CONTENT:

  A SPECIAL SNEAK PREVIEW of Black and White Truth by K.M. Hodge (Book 2 of The Syndicate-Born Trilogy).

  Acknowledgements

  I am full of gratitude to everyone who supported me in this effort: family, friends and readers. I would like to give a special shout out to my beta readers Jessica Dominguez and Jennifer Arsaga, who have gone above and beyond in their support. I have an amazing team of fact checkers but I would like to give special thanks to Rayne Soza, who puts up with my often times bizarre medical questions. I’d also like to thank Melinda McIntosh, my diehard cheerleader, who keeps me going when the going gets tough. Last but not least I am grateful
for the friendship and support of two amazing writers, Cassidy Cayman and Melissa Storm, who have helped me turn a love of writing into a blossoming career.

  About the Author

  K.M. Hodge grew up in Detroit, where she spent most of her free time weaving wild tales to spook her friends and family. These days, she lives in Texas with her husband and two energetic boys, and once again enjoys writing tales of suspense and intrigue that keep her readers up all night. Her stories, which focus on women’s issues, friendship, addiction, regrets and second chances, will stay with you long after you finish them.

  When she isn’t writing or being an agent of social change, she reads Independent graphic novels, watches old X-files episodes, streams Detroit Tigers games and binges on Netflix with her husband.

  She enjoys hearing from her readers, so don’t be shy about dropping her a line at any of these links: Website, Facebook, Google+, Twitter, E-mail, and Pinterest.

  SPECIAL SNEAK PREVIEW: BLACK AND WHITE TRUTH

  Enjoy the First 4 Chapters of this second book in THE SYNDICATE-BORN TRILOGY. Or....

  ~~~

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  PROLOGUE

  Love makes a man do stupid things.

  It once made me believe I could go up against the Lex Luthors and Bruno Mannheims of the world with just the power of my words to slay them.

  The problem with that is I’m not a man of the hour. Nope, I’m just a bumbling fool—Jimmy Olsen singing the blues.

  The truth is, being a hero is one of those things that sound great on paper. After all, they save the day and get the girl, but when you aren’t the Man of Steel it doesn’t quite work out that way.

  Seventeen years ago, my best friend and the one-sided love of my life, Katherine, got me caught up in an investigation that led to the most scandalous trial of my lifetime. Senators, FBI agents, police officers, and wealthy businessmen were convicted and sent to prison for a long time.