Blind Luck (The Technicians Series Book 3)

by Olivia Gaines

  “Mr. Yield, you have a problem on your hands,” Gabriel said observing the woman and child.

  “Yeah, two of them and that small-town Boogey man,” he said, helping himself to a cup from the open shelving and pouring one for Millicent, then for himself. Cabrina provided the child with a small bottle of low sugar juice and three cookies on a saucer with a coordinating napkin. Chad, happy, thanked her as he removed his jacket.

  “No, it appears that the Sheriff has a BOLO out on you and is on his way to St. Louis as we speak to convince the boy’s father to file a kidnapping charge,” Gabriel said.

  “I’m sorry, how do you know this?” Millicent said, not wanting to ask who the man was.

  Yield gave her the same dirty look he’d given the boy, putting his finger to his lips and scowling at her. She in return scowled back at him. This was her life they were playing with, and the idea of the two men deciding her fate wasn’t going to sit well with her. She had spent the last seven years of that under the thumb of Mike, she wasn’t ready to trade one prison for another.

  “Excuse me, and I don’t mean to rude or ungrateful to the help you’re trying to provide, but I have lived for 7 years under the Sheriff’s thumb. I have no idea who you are or why we are here, so Brody, no, don’t expect me to sit quietly while me and my child’s fates are determined by some handsome man and his pretty wife,” Millicent said.

  “Ahh, she thinks you’re handsome, Hubby,” Cabrina said, “but she has a point.”

  Gabriel admired her spunk and her will to fight. To him, that was a good fighting position because she had one in front of her coming forward on three fronts: her child, the Sheriff, and Brody Johnson. In order for Gabriel’s solution to work, a fight on her part would be necessary to get Mr. Yield on board because as well as Gabriel knew the man, the name wasn’t given for no reason. He had no yield in him.

  Brody Johnson was the epitome of a Pitbull bred with a hound dog. The man could pick up a cold trail and follow it until he found what he was looking for, but once he sank his teeth in, more than likely, he’d needed to be shot to let go of the prize. Millicent Channing was going to need that kind of steadfastness in her life.

  “It’s my job to keep an eye on people and know what they are doing,” Gabriel told her. “When I got the call from Mr. Yield, I took a look at your situation. It’s not good, and if Big Mike gets the boy’s father on board, the kidnapping charge is going to haunt you.”

  Millicent relaxed a bit, sighing deeply before posing the question, “What do you suggest we do?”

  “Well, I have a plan,” Gabriel said, looking a Brody, who raised his eyebrows. He didn’t like how the preacher man was looking at him which also meant he was going to think the Archangel’s plan sucked ass.

  “I don’t like your plan,” Brody said. “I brought them here to get her and the kid a new identity so you and your brother could put her in one of them houses you redo and give them a new life.”

  “Easier said than done,” Gabriel said. “I can’t give her a new life until the old one is taken care of...your job is to retrieve items, you don’t do cancellations. This Sheriff wants this woman and he is tearing up Wentzville to find any information on you and her. The BOLO was on your black truck. I see you were smart and changed vehicles, but we have to go a lot deeper and fast.”

  “New identities?” Millicent asked. “I have money in the bank...for us to start over. I’ve been saving every penny I could get my hands on for the last seven years.”

  “Sorry, Ms. Channing, but you can consider that money gone,” Gabriel said. “Although it is a nice chunk of change, the Sheriff has put a tracker on the account, meaning the moment you walk into a bank or use your ATM card, he knows where you are and you will be detained until he comes and retrieves you.”

  “What?” she said, her bottom lip trembling.

  “Like I said, I have a plan,” Gabriel offered.

  “Dear God, will this nightmare never end?” she asked, placing her face in the palms of her hands.

  Gabriel stepped forward. He placed a warm palm on her shoulder. “He has heard your cries.”

  “I hope He heard mine, too, because I don’t like where you’re going with this,” Yield said.

  “Where is he going?” Chad wanted to know as he munched on cookies, eyeballing the tray of others he also wanted to eat. “Are we going with you?”

  “If he accepts my plan, you will be,” Gabriel said with a smile. “Ms. Channing, the first thing we need to do is get on the phone with the boy’s father. Convince him you are going to give the boy a better life and get him to verbally agree on the phone to allow young Chad here to be adopted by Brody.”

  “What?” Brody said sitting up, the jagged scar on his face almost making a straight line as his lip hung low.

  “Excuse me?” Millicent said, looking dumbfounded.

  “Yay, Mr. Brody is going to be my Daddy,” Chad said. “Can I have another cookie? These are yummy.”

  “No more cookies for you, Chad, and wait, what? Why would I want to adopt the boy?” Yield asked.

  “Because you are going to marry his Mom,” Gabriel said with a smile.

  “Wait...what? Oh hell no!” Yield said, getting to his feet. “I stopped to get a bowl of grits, three crispy strips of bacon, and a cup of coffee. My leg hurts from being shot and my back hurts from sleepy on her lumpy ass couch last night. I just want to go home.”

  “That’s fine, but they don’t have a home to go to, and no matter where she goes, that man is going to hunt her down and drag her back to Wentzville,” Gabriel said. “Unless she is married to someone else who has adopted the boy.”

  “And what if I’m not on board with this little plan of yours?” Brody inquired.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Gabriel said. “You took what the Sheriff considers to be his. He will come for you simply because you made him look bad. He is coming for her and the boy because that’s who he is. You stand a better chance defending your wife and child than putting down a rabid dog who walks in your house trying to bite you.”

  Yield frowned, getting up from the table. This wasn’t in his plan. All he wanted was a damned bowl of grits, a cup of coffee, and some fucking bacon. Now, Gabriel was pushing him to marry this woman and to take on a child. The room seemed to spin and warmth crept up his spine.

  I need to get out of here.

  I gotta get some air.

  I can’t breathe.

  “Excuse me,” he said, going out the back door to catch his breath. Every eye in the room watched him walk out the back door as Millicent sat staring at his back. He didn’t want them. The one man that she’d hoped would save them had done his part and gotten she and Chad free. Tears welled in her eyes as Chad looked at his mother. The kid wanted Brody as his father as well, but he was only a kid. No one ever listened to kids. It didn’t seem like Brody was listening to the adults either, but he wanted his mother to try.

  Millicent had tried to reel Mr. Yield in with her body, which he refused. She tried to be a helpmate by assisting him in changing vehicles, took care of his leg, shared the load on the cost, and drive over the road. She didn’t know what else to try. Gabriel noticed the slumping of her shoulders. Again, he placed his hand on the top of her arm, hoping to provide an invisible strength to fortify her for what needed to come next.

  “Call the boy’s father first, then go outside and state your case on why it would work between you,” Gabriel said, handing Millicent his phone. “It will work, but you have to make him understand how and why you and the boy need him. If you can convince Brody, I will take care of the rest.”

  Her hands trembled as she took the phone from Gabriel and made the call to Jebbie. Once before she had convinced the Sheriff’s brother to be her partner in crime to protect her, but her body had been the prize for him. Brody Johnson had no soft spots she could use to make him yield, or give in. The tears she refused to shed flooded her eyes as Jebbie’s voice came through the line.

  “
Jebbie, it’s me,” Millicent said.

  MIKE COLTON PULLED into the driveway surrounded by the well-manicured lawn of Oswald Pennington, who was loading his grandson into the back of a van. He never liked the old man nor the rich old fucker’s meth sucking, green toothed grandson. It was the sort of people the boy hung around with that caused trouble in his town. The old man was a symptom of issues with the young kids who had no direction. People like him gave their children everything but their time and a moral compass in which to navigate life. He used his money to set the standards for right and wrong as far as his wallet could push the boundaries. In his mind, hiring Brody Johnson had been a wrong and pushed against a boundary that crossed his line of comfort.

  “Sheriff,” Oswald said to the tall man, “how can I help you?”

  “I’m here about Brody Johnson, the man you hired,” Sheriff Colton said.

  “Who?”

  “Big white guy, deep tan, dark hair, with a scar down his face. He said he worked for you,” the Sheriff said, hoping the man was lying so he could hunt him down like the sneaky, woman stealing dog he was.

  “Oh Brody,” Oswald said, although he didn’t know the man by name. “Yes, I hired him to help me with a family issue.”

  “He around?”

  “He doesn’t reside here, Sheriff,” Oswald said, offended by such a thought. However, it was obvious the man had done something to piss off the lawman, which in his book was easy to do, but this Brody, if that was his real name had given him sage advice. Following his instructions, he located his grandson, Luther, who was close to smoking enough meth to permanently fry his brain, and got the boy home. Today, Luther was being transported to the facility the man recommended Oswald use in Colorado.

  “Do you know where I can find him, like does he work in the tool shed, your greenhouse, for your company?” she Sheriff asked.

  “What is this about Sheriff? Has Brody committed a crime?” Oswald asked, knowing it would anger Mike Colton to be questioned. He hoped it would make him lower his guard and divulge the real reason behind looking for the scary looking man who returned his grandfather’s watch.

  “Mr. Pennington,” Sheriff Brody said, taking a deep breath. “He told me he worked for you. He was last seen at Millicent’s with my nephew and now they are missing.”

  “Missing? You don’t say,” Oswald said, getting a feeling a joy coming through him with the idea of the scar-faced man helping the woman and boy get away from the Sheriff. “Did you check with her neighbor? I’m sure in that area those people would know if there was anything suspicious happening.”

  “I did, Mr. Pennington. She told them they were getting away for the Christmas holidays,” the Sheriff said, getting beet red in the face.

  Oswald loved it. He enjoyed it so much, he took his time to answer, remembering hearing a tinge of Midwestern accent in the man’s voice when he brought back the watch. Whoever he was had done him two favors—brought back the antique watch and helped save his grandson—and now he was helping Millicent get away from the Sheriff. All of the years in the town and no one ever came to her aid. His days of sitting back and doing nothing to help his fellow man were over. Today, he would help her and the big guy who did him two solids.

  “Sheriff, Brody is on vacation until after the New Year,” Oswald lied. “I don’t ask my employees about their plans for Christmas. It is unseemly.”

  “Thanks for your help,” the Sheriff added, angrier now than he’d ever been. As a last-ditch effort, he needed to go see his idiot brother. He had to get that ass wipe to call in a missing person report so he could sic the dogs on that rough looking fucker and bring home his woman.

  He sped out of the driveway, intentionally burning rubber and marking the white paved drive of the Pennington home. His dick was hard as rock, fantasizing about all the ways he planned to fuck some sense into Millicent’s head. The idea of her crying, pleading, begging for him to give her a break from the pounding he planned to put on her puss nearly made him pull over to the side of the road to rub one out.

  First, he needed to go and pound on his rockheaded brother.

  Chapter Eight – Do you...Not Really.

  Action.

  Gabriel Neary walked out his back door turning up the collar on his favorite thick, wool cardigan, bristling at the cold. Snow was due to fall tonight and if he didn’t get his current house guest moving, they would be stuck with he and Cabrina for a few days. He didn’t want that. Things needed to progress quickly if they were to stay on plan.

  “Cold out tonight,” Gabriel said.

  “Yeah, nice sweater, and no,” Yield said with a loud sigh, “the answer is no on all fronts.”

  “All I ask is that when she comes out here to state her case, you listen and give her a chance,” he said. “If not, you need to get moving because snow is going to start falling and the last thing I want is to be stuck here locked up with the likes of you.”

  “Wow, you’re a married man now getting sex on a regular basis that doesn’t make you feel all guilt ridden and listen at you, trying to get rid of me. I can easily recall the days when I would come for a visit and you’d be happy to see me,” Yield said, looking out over the back yard. “I remember when your grandmother rebuilt that chicken coop.”

  Gabriel said, “we have a long history you and me, Brody. I think, outside of my brothers, you were my first and longest friend. I know she will be good for you.”

  “The only thing that is good for me is getting this gunshot wound taken care of and sleeping in my own bed tonight...alone,” he said to the Archangel.

  Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up, his eyes were wide when he asked, “You’re telling me you haven’t fornicated with that woman?”

  “I’m telling you that I have not,” Yield said, turning to look him square in the eyes. “She’s in trouble and needed your help. I saw no need to complicate Millicent’s life by giving her false hopes that I was going to be the big strong man to rescue her from prior bad decisions.”

  “Her logic can’t be all bad,” Gabriel said, “since she chose you. The way she and that boy look at you...the way you handle him, reminds me of your dad and how he would handle you and your sister when you got out of hand.”

  “Well, I’m not my father.”

  “No, that you are not, but he, like his son, is a good man. She needs a good man and that boy looks up to you. This could be a way to end the loneliness that dogs your trail like the bad stench of six-day old fish,” Gabriel said as the back door opened to reveal the shadow of Millicent.

  “Can I interrupt?” she asked, stepping out into the cold. “Dang, it’s cold out here.”

  “It’s going to snow soon, so you guys need to clear the air so we can get this sorted out,” Gabriel said, excusing himself. He added a pat to Mr. Yield’s shoulder in passing, hoping to provide his longtime friend with a modicum of support. Millicent didn’t know where to start. So she took a few minutes to breathe.

  The conversation with Jebbie had gone better than expected. At the time she’d spoken to him, his brother the Sheriff hadn’t yet arrived. Calmly explaining herself, she asked the one question she’d never thought she’d need to, but did. He surprised her by agreeing to her request and wishing her the best.

  Sighing loudly, allowing the condensation from her breath fill the space between her and Brody, leaving Millicent to think deeply about how to start this conversation.

  “When my car broke down, the Sheriff was the one to call me a tow into town,” she said. “Immediately, I didn’t like him or the way he looked at me. A lifetime of those looks teaches a girl when she’s standing in front of a predator.”

  Yield shifted his weight to his good leg.

  “I grew up in foster care and ran away from more homes than you can imagine,” she said. “As a last-ditch effort, I went to St. Francis’ Church ready to become a nun, but I was too young to take the vows. The sisters let me stay there and attend elementary school.”

  He turned his head to lo
ok at her profile, an adorable silhouette in the soft light of the back porch. She pulled at him with her words, but his body didn’t move.

  “The nuns enrolled me into St. Thomas More Academy in Durham, but I tell you, when men realize you have no one, it’s like this monster takes over them,” she said. “It wasn’t any different in college either. I’ve had to fight off predatory men all of my life and I ain’t even pretty; just alone.”

  Yield still hadn’t moved nor had anything to say. He’d promised Gabriel he would listen to her pitch and listen he would. It didn’t mean he had to agree or give in, just listen.

  “Last night when you slept on my couch was the first half-decent night’s sleep I’ve had in years. Closing my eyes, knowing you were there, I didn’t worry about you coming in my room in the middle of the night, even though I offered myself to you shamelessly, hoping I would be good enough in bed to hold you to me, to save me and my son, I guess,” Millicent said.

  “Truth is, I’m tired of being fucking strong,” she said. “I want you as my husband and a father to my son to protect us so we can sleep at night and not spend every day scared for our lives. No, it’s not the ideal marriage or arrangement, but I will be a good wife to you and Chad won’t be no problem.”

  Her words touched him, tugged at his heart. “Lady, trust me, I wanted to take you up on the offer to share that bed, but I ain’t husband and father material,” Yield said.

  “Oh really?” she said, grabbing his jacket and turning him to face her. “You pulled out the chair for me to sit down, poured yourself coffee, and gave one to me. You handle Chad and talk to him with empathy and respect and he responds favorably. The way I see things, you need us as much as we need you. Make us a family, Brody.”

  “And if I don’t want to?” he asked.

  “Then my fate will be in Gabriel and Cabrina’s hand,” she added, wanting to leave it there, but she couldn’t. “I’m also tired of being fucking lonely that it hurts to the bare bones of my soul. When you come home, I want to be there waiting for you with warm cupcakes, a hot meal, and your favorite slippers. My kisses will be soft and my arms inviting as I welcome you through the any door you chose to enter. Chad will share with you bits and pieces of his day, excited to practice baseball catches with a real daddy before the big game. A game where you will sit in the bleachers coaching from the sidelines, telling him it’s okay when he strikes out or cheering him as he slides into home. Over time, you will walk through your front door and my belly will swell more and more when you see me as I bring another member of the family into this world from your seed. We will be your family. The reason to make sure you make it home each night and the reason you get up each morning.”