by Marie Wathen
Eyes downcast, Rhys smiles wistfully, before his head snaps up and the melancholy look is quickly replaced with a flash of fear in his striking features. “Ah hell,” He scrubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Breesan, I really shouldn't be telling you all this shit.” He stands quickly, piercing me with a significantly different look than I have ever seen on his face. “Forget it. And I do mean forget what I just said. Information like this can get you killed.” He sighs and his stiff shoulders drop in defeat. “Oh dammit, I just don't know when to shut up.” He glares at his empty beer bottle regretfully, “Fucking booze.”
“Thank you Rhys.” I say, knowing that somewhere deep down behind his blasé attitude and steely personality, Rhys really does care.
“Anyway, we need to get a couple of things straight before we include you in my epic plan to take down hired killers and a drug lord.” He winks.
Chapter Thirteen
Morgan
Existing on fast food and gas station crap, they try to pass off as food, Candy and I drive straight for over a day, swapping out shifts from Las Vegas to a small town in north Georgia. Apparently, she has family living here that can hide her out from whomever she is involved with that is trying to kill her, and now me.
Since we left Vegas I've refused to speak. The silent treatment works best for me when I'm pissed and right now I am madder than a mother fucker about some bastards shooting at my ass. Candy tried to speak once, but after cutting her the stink eye, she clamped her mouth shut. Finally, about three hours ago she stopped glimpsing over in my direction altogether.
What has happened to my world? Not one damn thing is familiar since I left Willow. I don't know Candy or the secrets that threatens both of our lives. All I know is just a few days ago I was living in a world of comfort and facing a future of endless gratification, in every aspect. Out of desperation I've all but thrown that life in the damn trash. After the shit in Vegas I've admitted to myself that I'm suffering from a broken heart. Waverly is everything I've ever wanted in a woman. She's filled my bed, my free time and the brokenness in my soul. Losing her to an old lover, I feel like I'm split down the middle severing love and all compassion from my heart.
But is it love, like real love? I don't know shit about love. Maybe I'm just missing the attention Waverly showered on me. Attention is what I've grown accustomed to and get from everyone, especially women. I'll admit that my self-serving attitude has spoiled me into becoming a real son of a bitch.
Taking a long breath as we pull into the dirt driveway, I size up the small shotgun house located on a large property outlined by woods. Scanning the area I notice there are no lights on inside and no vehicles in the driveway. Uneasiness begins to crush me for thinking I should trust a total stranger. She has dragged me to the middle of god knows where. What the hell is her real reason for getting me isolated?
Cracking open the door to the small house, Candy confidently slips inside. Deciding it may be safer inside with a total stranger than left out here as a snack for whatever wild beast resides in the thick woods dominating the property, I reluctantly follow her. Standing in a small kitchen, she scrutinizes the inside of the refrigerator before pulling out an assortment of lunch meat packages and then searches out bread in the pantry.
Wordlessly, Candy piles the quick made sandwich on a paper plate and shoves it toward me. Snatching it up without a thank you, I straddle the barstool and dig in. She finishes making her sandwich and takes the seat next to me. The nausea that has dominated my stomach for the past twelve hours while I internally debated on taking my chances and leaving her slowly ebbs after eating. Finished devouring the small snack, I chuck the empty plate into the small trash and finish my soda. With my back leaning against the counter, arms and legs crossed, I let out a loud huff drawing her attention away from her crumb covered plate. I don't want to be here and I don't want to play the part of friend with her. However apprehensive I am about this whole fucked up situation, if I'm going to be here with her I need to chill a little.
“I don't know what kind of fucked up shit you've dragged me into, but I'm not staying here for two damn weeks. And whatever we shared in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Happy that I could squeeze in that cliché, while using my best douche-bag tone, I stare at her awaiting her usual smart-ass response.
Blinking several times while analyzing me she averts her gaze back to her plate. “I'm sorry. I know you hate me and I accept that, but I honestly didn't mean to drag you into my problems. You're not a prisoner here, and you can leave whenever you want. But you need to understand that these people don't screw around. How we managed to get away alive is beyond me. I think that it's best for us to stay here at least until they’re fed up with looking.” Sighing heavily, she adds, “Morgan, I hope you'll forgive me. When all of this is over I hope that we can be friends.”
Her words hang in the air as I stare in disbelief. She actually thinks I'd want to be friends with her after putting my life in danger. She's out of her damn mind. Not wanting her to have false hope, I shrug noncommittally and push off the counter. Making my way through the remainder of the house, I check out the sleeping quarters.
“I'm taking this room.” I say, slamming the door behind me.
Lying face down on top of the quilt covering the bed, I kick off my shoes, twist the pillow under my head and stare mindlessly at the moonless sky outside the window. Sleep quickly drags me into oblivion until I hear an ominous woman's scream outside, jolting me out of bed. Pressing my back against the bedroom door, my heart hammers loudly against my chest then ratchets up more from the banging on the other side of the door. Snatching it open, I find Candy standing there wringing her hands apprehensively.
“Sorry,” She sighs. “There is a black panther on the back porch.”
Standing the full span of the narrow hallway away from me in a ragged Yankees tee-shirt, long tan legs exposed all the way up to the top of her thighs, Candy looks longingly at me and I wonder what the hell she wants me to do about it.
“I just wanted to make sure you were awake before I shoot off a warning shot. I hope to scare it away without you thinking those guys found us.” With an innocent smile, she nods satisfied with her explanation, turns then disappears down the unlit hallway.
Stripping out of my clothes this time I crawl into the bed and await the sound of her handgun. Two rounds, followed by the sound of nails scratching on wood floors lets me know that she effectively scared the beast away. Finding sleep this time is impossibly grueling, I stare into the dark room picturing the faces of those I ran from. Not the thugs hoping to kill us, but the familiar faces of friends and family. Why in the hell did I think I could just drop everything, run away to a life of sin, and come out completely unscathed? With my luck recently I should have known some crazy shit would happen to me, but sometimes I just don't fucking think things through enough.
Shit. Groaning loudly at my dumb-ass mistakes, I vow to somehow find a way out of this mess and away from Candy as soon as possible. If there is one thing I've learned since leaving Willow, I'm not cut-out to run from shit…it only gets shittier for me when I do. First thing in the morning I'm getting the hell out of Podunk Georgia.
Waking just as the sunlight hits the top edge of the tree line, I slide off the bed and dress hastily. Creaking open the bedroom door, I lurk down the hallway listening for any sounds of Candy while passing the closed bedroom doors. Peeping into the small kitchen as I proceed toward the front door, I slam into a softness I wasn't expecting. With a loud grunt I stare deeply into the face I was once again trying to flee.
“Good morning.” Candy says hoarsely, probably from lack of sleep. I heard her walking through the house early this morning. Aware of the fact that I was quite literally sneaking out, she sizes me up with a high arched eyebrow before walking around me toward the kitchen.
Telling myself I'm not going to let her distract me or talk me out of leaving, I walk out the front door. Once outside I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders
, not a burden of responsibility, but an impending doom. Breathing in deeply I close my eyes and begin a slow process of telling myself that leaving now is not selfish, she doesn't need me. I need to return home, to my family and responsibilities.
Even though I’m ready to concede defeat on my idea of running off, I'm not ready for the level of responsibility that my parents expect from me right now. I need time, time to figure out what the hell I do want. That still sounds so damn condescending of me, but before I can do a damn thing for anyone else I've got to get my shit together.
Searching the area I notice there are no houses near us. A suspicious sensation tweaks my brain again, but I quickly dismiss it. If Candy was going to do something to me it would have happened last night when she had her gun out, scaring away the panther.
“Where in the hell am I?” I mumble.
Spotting a large bed-size swing on the far side of the front porch, I angrily stalk over and plop down, dropping my face in my hands. Torn between needing to leave and not wanting to abandon her yet, I scrub the heels of my hands roughly into my eyes. Pulling them down slowly I cover my mouth and murmur my disdain with this whole fucked up situation and her. How the hell can she expect me to be fine with someone shooting at me without any explanations?
“You know what?” I growl deeply. “Fuck that shit!” I walk back into the house, searching for the current pain in my ass. I am getting a damn explanation ...right this damn minute. “Candy!” Hearing my voice echo through the dead silence, I turn around, finding her sitting in a small high-back rocking chair.
With a forlorn look, she stares blankly at me. “You need an explanation and I owe it to you.” Candy whispers, dropping her eyes to her hands resting on her lap. Heaving a loud sigh, she shakes her head. One hand lifts to the outside corner of her eyes and I realize she's crying.
“Yes.” I retort more harshly than I intended, but shit I'm pissed and confused and sick of all this bullshit already.
“I know. First, let me apologize, again.” Lifting her head she looks out the side window and I see tears on her cheeks. “I had no idea that they would, or could find me, but I hate that you are caught in the middle. The truth is I broke up with my boyfriend a week ago and had to leave town.” She sighs, “He is very influential and has people working for him that will do anything that he demands.” I nod waiting for more. “We started out normal.” She states proudly. “We were together for over a year. I knew he was into something illegal, but he refused to tell me anything. I was raised by my precious grandmother in a small town just outside of Omaha.” She smiles sweetly. “My Nanny didn’t have many rules, but the one thing she demanded was that I keep my nose out of her business. She would say prying can only get you into more trouble. From my earliest childhood memories I remember she enforced a zero-tolerance for nosiness. So when it came to what Tony was doing I kept my nose out of it.”
Feeling my irritation growing with her lengthy explanation, I silently beg her to get on with the story. Slumping down onto the couch I lean forward giving her my undivided attention along with my best 'can we cut to the shit' glare.
Infuriated with my impatience, Candy blurts, “He is a mob-boss in Chicago.”
Pinning me with a serious stare, she narrows her eyes in expectation, but I don't even flinch. What she doesn't know is that, while I've managed to remain unscathed over the years, I have close associates that are in various seedy business ventures. I personally benefited on occasion from some of their escapades; but that is not some shit I will ever share with her. Rubbing her hands over the top of her thighs nervously she appears to be waiting for my response.
“Continue.” I snap frustrated.
Sniffling, she nods. “Part of his business is prostitution. Apparently Tony likes to try out the new girls, especially the virgins before sending them out to service his clients. One evening, I was supposed to be working late and without calling ahead first I arrived at his penthouse unexpectedly. I heard a soft whimper and after walking down the hall toward our bedroom, I discovered a very young girl crying. She was blindfolded and shackled to the headboard of our bed.” She pauses. “Shocked to my core, I stood there completely dazed while I watched him slip onto the bed, completely naked. He menacingly crawled on top of her and began squeezing her...” Flushing red from her neck up to her hairline, she drops her face into her hands and I hear a soft hitch as she begins sobbing.
I lean back against the couch and look upward, focusing on the ceiling while fighting against wanting to comfort her. Sounds to me like she may have been confused about the exclusivity of their relationship, I rationalize, but I'm not going to judge, just yet.
“Tony discovered me watching.” Candy looks at me. “After I felt the bile rise up in my throat, I ran into the bathroom, sicken to death by what he was doing. He rushed in behind me, yelling and cussing, like I was the one in the wrong. I screamed back at him that he was a fucking idiot if he thought I was going to allow this disgusting shit to continue.” She clears her throat. “That's when he struck. Tony hit me so hard that I flew backward several feet, slamming my head against the tub. When I woke up, I was alone in a private hospital room. I snatched the IV from my arm and got out of bed. I dressed quickly and ran as fast and far as I could. I was in Las Vegas for two days when you found me at that damn bar.” She says, smiling tenderly at me. “God I was so foolish. I thought I could hide easily in a big city, especially Vegas. No one there cares about your history or why you’re visiting. I don't understand how Tony found me so quickly.” She releases a deep sigh then drops her head back against the chair, looking up toward the ceiling.
“You have a tracer somewhere on you or your car does.” I offer.
She jerks her head up fear streaking across her features. “What?” Candy shouts excitedly “Oh mygod! He'll find me here then!” Rushing over to the counter she begins digging through her purse, pulling out a set of keys. She rushes toward the front door before I stop her.
“That would be my first guess too. But since he found your exact motel room, I'm guessing the bug is probably in that purse.” I reply, pointing at the bag she dropped on the floor. I walk over to the designer monstrosity and flip it upside down, dumping the contents onto the counter. “Ah ha,” I declare after just a moment of searching. “He knows you can't go a minute without lighting up and I'll bet this little gem was a gift.”
Charging over she snatches the ruby encrusted lighter out of my hand and growls furiously. “That son of a bitch,” She mumbles. “Tony gave this to me the first week we started dating.”
“It’s what I would do…if I was a two-timing, douche bag boyfriend.”
Shaking her head angrily, Candy is trying to process that my idea could be possible. She walks into the kitchen and begins tearing through drawers and cabinets like a tornado. Pulling out a large meat mallet, she places the expensive lighter on the wood carving board and with one hard whack she splits the current object of her frustration into a hundred tiny pieces. She sorts through the tiny red shards and lifts what appears to be a small black stone toward the sunlight, beaming in through the small kitchen window.
“This must be the bug.” She declares anxiously. “What do I do now? If he finds me here, it’s over. I don’t have anywhere else to hide.”
“Maybe you found it in time. But you might want to check your car too.” I say.
“Dammit, why didn't I think to get rid of every gift that bastard gave me?”
Realizing that if in fact that really is a tracking device and Tony has been trailing her for a year, I begin to wonder how he could have let her surprise him while he was getting freaky with another woman.
“How did Tony not know you were on your way home?” I ask, catching her off guard. She stares at me utterly confused.
“He…what?” She coughs once, clears her throat and then answers. “Oh, I accidentally left my purse at the office that night.” She suddenly seems uncomfortable and avoids making eye contact with me.
&nbs
p; Something feels off about that explanation, but what reason would she have to lie to me about it? She didn't even know me when all that shit happened with him. I stare at her for another long minute trying to determine if I can believe she is who she claims or if everything that she just told me was a lie. If it all was a lie, how much worse can the truth be? I blame my paranoia on the chaos of the recent events and dismiss all my ridiculous thoughts about her being dishonest.
Flipping on the switch for the garbage disposal, Candy drops the black stone into it, rinsing it down the drain. Releasing a defeated sigh, she leans over the sink and looks down the drain, checking that it indeed took away the last remaining link between her and the homicidal stalker who threatens to live up to his description. Turning away, she presses her back against the sink, folds one arm around her small waist while running her free hand through her hair.
I decide that for now I am going to trust that she is telling me the truth. After hearing her history with this guy I guess I can understand her resistance with sharing this information before now, but I'm still pissed about getting shot at. Still, I do not want to come off as a bigger dick than this Tony asshole, so I decide she has been through enough. I cross the room and draw her small body into my arms. Candy hesitates at first, blocking me with a stiff hand lying on my chest, but I swat it away and continue snuggling her against me. I'm not sure why I feel compelled to comfort her since that's not typically my style. Truthfully it isn’t her fault that I found my way into her bed so it's unfair for me to stay mad at her.
“Hush Candy,” I say. “We're safe here.”
Raising her eyes to meet mine, she looks completely dumbfounded at my statement. “How can you be so sure? It didn't take him very long to find me last time.”“I'm sure because not even God could find this hell-hole, in the middle of no damn where.” I answer jokingly, hoping it soothes her fears while dissolving my surly mood.
