Ride to Restoration (Ride Series Book 2)

by DJ Wilson

“D, it’s Jim. Marshal Donnelley will be there. Between us, what questions do you want answered?”

  “I want to know who’s behind this, Standford or the Family. Better still if it’s Joey, the ex-husband scorned.”

  “Then what?” Jim asked hesitantly.

  “Then I’ll know how fast and far I need to go or if I should stay and fight.”

  “D, if you stay and fight, we’d like you to remain in the program. I can help you more than you know. Remember the train wreck in Canada? You called for help; I made it happen.”

  “I remember, thank you. I’ll consider it. Thanks again for your help, Jim. Gotta go.”

  Chapter 56

  Moving my truck from the fuel island, I parked in plain sight of the Suburban, before leisurely strolling into the adjoining Denny’s and ordering the Grand Slam to go. Casually taking my time, I shopped in the store another ten minutes buying John Grisham’s Sycamore Row on tape before picking up my breakfast and traveling south.

  Predictable, that’s how I’d describe my escort — staying far enough back to keep me in view without causing me to rabbit. Stupid is as stupid does, I convinced myself. How could I rabbit in a truck pulling a trailer with an 800 lb. bike on it?

  Fifty-five minutes since my conversation with Donnelley ended, I took the Ina exit to the right and drove straight to the boat launch area, a long mile off the interstate. Thankfully there were only three trucks with empty boat trailers in the parking lot and no one loitering in plain sight. I honestly hoped they made it.

  Pulling as close to the lake as possible, I parked the truck at a 45-degree angle facing out and waited. It didn’t take long. Three minutes later, the black Suburban slowly crept into the parking lot, reconnoitering the surroundings before moving in my direction and blocking my only exit. If they only knew ... Escaping is the furthest thing from my mind today. Live to fight another day is not an option. It ends here or at least I hope it will.

  I exited the truck and set my breakfast on the Tonneau cover. Looking over my left shoulder, I noticed subtle movement along a deeply overgrown fencerow fifty yards away. Someone was taking up a defensive position. That’s a good sign. Two hundred yards to the north and to the right of a shuttered public bathroom, I glimpsed a black-clad figure crouched to the right of the building. Another good sign. Off to my right, not 75 feet away, standing behind a bridge piling of the wooden pier jutting out into the water was a man with what looked like a .50 cal. Barrett M107 sniper rifle pointed directly at me. A little unnerving, nonetheless, I took comfort knowing someone with that much firepower in his hands had my back.

  For the moment, however, if I was to get the answers I needed this was my fight. Slipping into the truck from the passenger side as the Suburban continued its snail’s pace approach, I unlocked the glove box, retrieved the Glock and clipped it onto my belt. Spreading my Styrofoam encapsulated breakfast fare before me, I indulged, intensely watching the Suburban inch its way forward two hundred yards, then a hundred, then fifty, before stopping less than a hundred feet away. I acted completely indifferent, waving my hand in their direction, before turning my back to them and gazing at the sparkling waters of Rend Lake. How you gonna play this, D?

  I heard multiple doors open and shut before turning to face four approaching individuals, only one of whom I recognized. Donnie had arrived with his entourage. He was sporting two black eyes, a distinct nose bandage and an aluminum neck brace. By the looks of things he was not particularly happy to be here. Displaying the cause and effect of my helmet’s impact with his face a week earlier, I was suddenly not too happy to be here either. I grimaced. “Damn that had to hurt! ... Bet he’s one pissed-off son of a bitch!”

  Guess I should stop them short. “Donnie, that you? Best you stop where you are until you tell me what you want. I almost didn’t recognize you. Sorry about that number I did on your face.”

  The three other men stopped and looked straightaway at Donnie as he began to mumble a string of words in my direction, which for the life of me I couldn't understand at any distance.

  “I’m sorry, I got nothing,” I managed to say, holding out my hands palm side up before him.

  The stocky, bald man next to Donnie spoke up, pointing his finger at Donnie’s face. “His mouth is wired shut. Gotta be up close to understand him. Then it’s still tough when he gets excited. … Kinda like he is now.”

  “If that’s the case, Donnie, why don’t you walk on over here? I’d like to talk to you and only you. Alone.” Everyone looked perplexed, so I continued, “Don’t worry, all my helmets are locked up in the back of the truck.” That got a subdued chuckle out of three of them and momentarily diffused the tense atmosphere that enveloped us.

  Donnie, hand signaling it was OK, motioned his enforcers to stand down while he walked the remaining seventy-five feet to me.

  Mumbling through clenched teeth as he got within earshot, Donnie began halting, “D, you hard man to find. I owe you big time. Mr. Joseph sent me collect you.”

  Looking Donnie squarely in the face, “I know why you’d like to, but I’m struggling to see Joseph’s angle.”

  “He say he promise Standford bring you back.” Donnie strained to get that thought out before shaking his head side to side. “I say Ms. Candice always been your biggest problem.”

  “I can see that. What did Joseph promise you if you deliver me?”

  Hanging his head, Donnie mumbled ... “Half a mil.”

  “That’s not enough, Donnie. Two point five is what Standford has offered for me, plus Candi split her take with him. Joseph is flush with cash already and that’s without collecting on me.”

  “I do as told,” countered Donnie.

  “What if I give you three times that to walk away — as in forever? Would you?”

  Donnie’s tone deepened, attempting to sound tough, “You in no position to bargain. You outnumbered four to one.”

  I raised both hands in the air hoping the individual who had my back would get my not so subtle hint. Thankfully, he did. A blazing red circle appeared on Donnie’s chest. “That’s where you’re wrong, sir. See that dot on your chest? It’s coming from a .50 cal. Barrett currently aimed at your heart. I’d almost guarantee there’s three more just like this one aimed at each of your pals.”

  The color in Donnie’s face faded quickly to ashen white. “If I lower my hands and move quickly, they’ll drop you where you stand. What will it be, Donnie? It’s your call.”

  Defeated, Donnie strained to reply, “What you want?”

  “I want you to buy me some time. Ten days, tops. Make the call. Tell Joseph you took me out, dumped my body in Rend Lake here and were taken into custody by the Marshal Service as you left the scene. Tell him I was under their surveillance. They just arrived late. That will go a long way in making him believe you.”

  Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Donnie weighed the consequences. Looking over his shoulder, he turned back to me and asked, “What about them? They gonna tell same story?”

  “I believe I can get the Marshal’s to hold all of you on something. None of you are lily white. Bet they can barter where everybody wins. I just need time to sort out my current circumstances.”

  “I do this, I can’t go back,” seethed Donnie.

  “Welcome to my world. You’re long overdue for a new career — a new life. I’ll help you. I’ll honor the amount I told you and then some.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because Candi says deep down you’re good people. A little twisted maybe, but good. Been with the Family a long time, haven’t you? The way I see it, Joseph has an innate way of bringing out the worst in all of us.”

  I continued, “I’m going to slowly lower my hands now. Don’t make any sudden moves. Good boy. Now, I’m sure you’ve got a stash of cash somewhere?”

  Donnie nodded yes.

  “Use it to disappear somewhere far away. Remember Victoria? I’m going to give you her email address. When you’ve settled, email her and
let her know how to contact you. I’ll have a blind trust in place, transferring ten percent of the balance I promised you every year until it’s gone. Who knows? It could last you twenty with the right investments. Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes,” relented Donnie. “Deal.”

  Chapter 57

  Now, it was up to me to conclude this tense situation without bloodshed, mainly so I could get back on the road in one piece. “Come on, Donnie. Walk back with me to your guys. I’m going to ask them to lay face down on the ground. Think they’ll do it if I ask nicely?”

  “Nope. St. Louis boys. Not a chance.” Donnie spouted, “Need convincing.”

  “I can do that.” Pulling my Glock from the holster behind my back, I placed the barrel directly on Donnie’s right temple. “Gentlemen, please unholster your weapons and lay face down on the ground.” Convinced of my sincerity they were not, each one looking at the other for the courage to take our rising altercation to the next level. That is until a barrage of .50 cal. rounds, echoing like thunder, blasted into the asphalt directly in front of their feet, sending projectiles of rock and tar flying into their faces.

  That sure as hell worked well, I thought … Or did it? With guns drawn, they charged us. Big mistake. Before I could tell them to stop, muffled shots rang out in the distance — each one a kill shot, dropping all three of these unfortunate souls mid stride. Turning to me, Donnie gave me the strangest look.

  Stupid, how could they have been so dumb? “Thank you, gentlemen, for not listening to me,” I shouted, watching a convergence of U.S. Marshal’s appear from every direction. The first Marshal to reach me was the one who had my back. The man, who with a few well-placed rounds tried to prevent the carnage that was all too real from playing out before my eyes.

  Extending his gloved hand, “D, I presume. I’m Marshal Donnelley. I warned them. I made the call. Didn’t have a clear shot because of you and—”

  “Donnie. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce you. Donnie here is changing professions, beginning today.”

  Donnie grinned ... kind of.

  “What’s wrong with his face? Why is he all bandaged up? Does he need medical attention? Can’t he speak?” Donnelley fired off one question after another.

  I laughed. “He can talk, just not too loud or clear. Had a motorcycle accident in Canada a little over a week ago. He’ll be fine,” I continued, slapping Donnie on the shoulder. “Donnie needs to disappear for the next ten days or so, Marshal Donnelley. After that, it’s up to him where he goes. Right, Donnie? Can you help with making the short term and long term happen?”

  “I can. Glad to do it. Did you happen to get the answers you were looking for in time?”

  “I think so, thanks to you. You’re very persuasive with a .50 cal. and laser sight, I’ll give you that. Sure would’ve stopped me in my tracks. Too bad it didn’t stop them.”

  Donnelley chuckled somberly. “We aim to please. We serve at your pleasure or destruction. Just one call brings it all. I know. It’s not the time to make jokes with three dead wise guys bleeding out fifty feet away. You tried to get them to stop. I tried to get them to stop. What was wrong with them?”

  Donnie did his best to chime in, “Three dumb, dead men.”

  Yep, that pretty much said it all. “Walk with me, Donnelley. Donnie, don’t just stand there, you too.” While the remaining Marshals secured the scene, I explained in brief detail who Donnie was and what I needed him to do. He had a call to make to Joseph while we listened. Not that I didn’t trust him, but I didn’t. Donnelley and I monitored his conversation on speaker, listening to him convey as best he could. “Package picked up. Damaged, no repair. Underwater…Call in insurance. Three more. Five-O here. Later.” Donnie pressed end and tossed me his phone.

  “Wow, that’s it? I’m impressed Donnie. Nothing or no one implicated. You said a lot in a little. Yep, you’ve been doing this far too long.”

  Marshal Donnelley concurred, nodding his head.

  Donnie smiled, “Thanks to you, not no more.”

  Assured the mess of our making would be cleaned up and Donnie was in good hands, I said my good-byes and as I was leaving called Jim on Donnie’s phone. He answered on the first ring.

  “Hey Jim, it’s D. Party over. You sent a good man to assist. Left a mess to clean up though. Three wise guys are no longer — the fourth has seen the light.

  “Would it have gone south for you if we hadn’t intervened?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the program?”

  “Yep ... What I do know is, I’m no longer a threat at the moment. Message was conveyed to Florida that I was erased. If anything, it’s bought me some time.”

  “Might be able to buy you some more. I’ll get with Donnelley and have him issue a press release to that effect. Unknown person in WITSEC was killed, along with three unknown assailants in an operation involving the U.S. Marshal Service. Will that work?”

  “Yes, sir. Just reinforces what the Florida connections have already been told. Later, thanks again.”

  Chapter 58

  Cruising down I-57, I picked up I-24 east and prayed that it would take me to Nashville and home, unscathed. I called the kennel and asked them to verify Major’s myriad of shots were current and to bathe him before I arrived.

  Next, I called AMEX travel and asked them to email me daily flight information to, two specific cities out of Tampa or Orlando. And finally, I called Brinks Security out of Nashville and scheduled them to be at my house at 6 PM today to pick up ten 110 lb. crates to be stored in a secure vault in Nashville until I or my designated representative sent for them.

  I wanted to call Giovanni and bounce my plan off him. I wanted to call Vic and tell her about this morning. I wanted to call Candi and let her know I was safe. So much for my wants, I didn’t do either, knowing someone could still be monitoring the airwaves, even if I was using Donnie’s phone.

  The big blue sign “Welcome to Tennessee” greeted me at the 2 PM mark. I passed through Clarksville, home of the 101st Airborne, on my way to Nashville, home of the Grand Ole Opry, Bruton Snuff and Yazoo Beer. Ah, to be home again.

  It was a sobering thought since I was only passing through. Where will I go next? Will I find Mayberry? Will I have Candi or even Victoria to share it with? Question after question consumed me all the way to the Music City, before I merged onto I-40 east and headed down the home stretch. The good news is, it won’t be long before Major is riding shotgun again.

  I had an epiphany an hour out. Marcy, Candi’s childhood friend, was my clandestine ticket to Candi. If I can find her, she can get a message to Candi for me easy enough. Next stop Kroger’s in Cookeville. Sixty minutes later, I found myself in line at the pharmacy drive thru.

  When it was my turn, I pulled up and asked for the pharmacist on duty. Turns out it was not Marcy, but Bruce. “Where’s Marcy?”

  “You just missed her. Can I help you?” asked Bruce.

  “No, sir,” I replied. “It’s personal. She’s a friend. Wanted to thank her for taking care of the dog while I was gone.”

  “Oh, in that case, you’d better hurry. I saw her leave a few minutes ago. She’s walking to her car.”

  “Thanks, Bruce.” Waving good-bye, I rounded the corner of the store in time to see Marcy entering her car, parked on the far outskirts of the parking lot. Reaching her location as her back up lights came on, I blocked her in with my truck and locked down on the horn.

  That got her attention! Marcy slammed on her brakes, put her shiny green Jag in park and jumped out, shaking her finger at me. “Excuse me! Excuse me! I almost hit you. Can’t you see I’m trying to leave? Move your truck — now!”

  I rolled the passenger window down shouting back, “No way! I like parking here just fine.” Ah, the whites of a brunette’s eyes when they’re steaming mad — a contrast made in Heaven. “How dare you treat my dog that way without my permission? Candi put you up to it?”

  “I ... uh
... don’t know what you’re talking about. Wait ... wait ... D, is that you lurking behind those awful looking molester glasses?”

  “In the flesh. Wait … molester glasses? Candi is the only other person who’s ever called them that. Damn, you girls are tight.”

  She laughed. “Aren’t we though? If you only knew how much I know about you! What are you doing here? Did you reach Giovanni? Did you speak to Candi? Do they know you’re back in Tennessee?”

  “Hold on, girl, one question at a time. Yes, I’ve spoken to them numerous times thanks to you. Good detective work on your part to find the dog.”

  “Thanks,” Marcy, standing a little straighter, beamed. “Don’t mention it. Took me all of two hours. You do know I’m flying to Tampa next Thursday?”

  “I do now. Bet that will make Candi happy. Now, about why I’m here. Need a big favor. Email Candi, do not call. I repeat, do not call. Tell her I need to talk to her and Giovanni. Tell her I’m OK and not to believe anything she hears, unless it’s from me. As far as Florida knows, I’m history, kaput, wasted. And I need to stay that way. ... Understand? She is not to tell anyone I’m alive. Trust me ... it’s better you don’t know any more

  than this.

  “Next, please ask her to go buy two burner phones and give one to Giovanni, then email you their numbers. I’m sorry to lay this all on you, but I have no one else I can trust who cares for Candi as much as I do. What’s your email address, by the way?”

  She looked perplexed, hesitating for the longest time, before writing it down on the pad I just so happened to have in my hand. “D, how much trouble are you in?”

  “Quite a bit,” I chuckled. “The good news is I’ve been in some kind of trouble ever since I met your BFF, starting with the day she tried to take me out in the Starbuck’s drive thru. Come to think of it she was on the way to hook up with you.”

  “I heard about that. Lucky you.”

  “Among other things. I’m sure you’ve heard all about the other things.”