“My name is Robin Sienna Tyler. I live at 427 Puckett Drive. Lexington, Kentucky. My birthday is June 8, 1981. My parents are Ada and Nathan Tyler. I have never been married, and have no kids. I am a retail associate at Kohl’s Department Store. I was born and raised in Kentucky.” She continued on for a while.
Finally I was satisfied, and told her she could stop.
“Alright darlin’, memorize and repeat the number on this card.” I said while handing her a blank card that only had a number on it. “Burn it when you are done. Remember to not draw attention to yourself. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call. Jack will take good care of you.
Robin nodded and headed to the plane that would take her and Jack to her new life. I watched the plane take off, and fly until I could no longer see it.
I dug into my pocket and called Elliott to get an update on the home situation. I was over two hours away, and informed him I was on my way back as soon as I hit Dunham’s to pick up the new transmission and transfer case for the El Camino that was set to be done by the end of this week.
I had just clicked the button at the top of my phone to close the screen when a text message opened it up again. I slid my thumb over the screen and stared dumfounded by what I saw.
Leah lay dead eyes open, mouth wide on a scream that had frozen on her face, her stomach gaping open with her insides flopping out on the ground, blood pooled under her body, and a tiny baby lay at her side mouth wide open in a scream.
The caption that came with it said “This could be Cheyenne soon.”
Rage burned hot through my veins. I stood there with my phone clenched tightly in my hands breathing in and out for five minutes until I was sure I had it under control.
I hit the phone button and called James first to check in with Cheyenne. Then called Elliott and Gabe to inform them of what was going on. I left a voicemail for Jack, and also forwarded him the message so he could do his work on it so see what he could find.
I walked back to my Suburban and hopped in, grabbing a hold of the OS bar as I went. I got a small smile on my face when I first heard Cheyenne say OS bar. According to her, the OS bar, or the oh shit bar, was the bar that hung above the door that you grab on to when you are four wheeling in the mud. She then proceeded to tell me that any self-respecting southerner would call it an OS bar, so I should start doing so now. Rolling my eyes, I continued to just call it a handle until she started bugging the shit out of me until I finally relented. Honestly, I didn’t really care what I called it, but I just loved to pick on her.
I was just about to head to the interstate when I got a call from the officer who questioned us last night.
“Mr. Mackenzie, this is Officer Anderson, from last night. I just wanted to update you and inform you on the condition of the baby.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, and what is the baby’s condition?” I asked.
“I conferred with the officer who is on your case, and we have compared notes. We are both now on the same page, and you were cleared. Same goes for Ms. Allen. The other officer and I are going to continue to work on this, and we have both spoken with your former CO. He is working an angle right now, which I am sure you are aware, that this Justin was not actually killed, and is now rogue and killing his former teammates.”
I agreed with him, and listened to a recap of what my old CO, Layne Cooper, had told me before. I still didn’t get the right feeling on this, and was thinking to myself that something else was wrong here when he said something to bring me back to the present.
“Cooper also informed me that he is trying to get a hold of a Malcolm Kincaid, but has been unable to make contact with him.”
Hearing his name again made my blood come to a boil. Everything that was going on seemed more on Malcolm’s scale I thought to myself. Now that the idea had taken root, I thought more and more that he might know something.
Malcolm was a member of our old unit. He was a hothead, and didn’t get along with anyone. We were at the base camp when a slew of MPs came in looking for Malcolm. We knew he was a bad seed, and I had filed many complaints to my CO about his attitude, and many actions that I and others had witnessed him doing. But that time was something more serious, because he was accused to raping an Afghani teenager, which was witnessed by two young Afghani soldiers. The girl just happened to be the sister of the guy who had killed Justin in a bomb that was strapped to his chest. Justin was thrown up against a wall, and wasn’t found until much later when the building that had collapsed on top of him was able to be lifted. I had gone to see him in the little tent that they had set up for the dead, and confirmed it was him only by the tattoo that was on his arm, and the writing that surrounded his wrist. The rest of the body was unrecognizable.
The two young soldiers had reported to their CO that they had seen Malcolm interrogating the girl, and when she wouldn’t give up more info on her brother, he then had used a different type of punishment to get her to talk. Their CO then informed our CO, and our CO decided that enough was enough. We were all sick of his actions, and no one stepped up to defend him. We were appalled by what he did, and that turn he had taken had forever burned the bridge back to us. He left in a rage, fighting the MPs with everything he had. He was imprisoned for three years and was given a dishonorable discharge from the army. He had dropped off the face of the earth when he was released, and no one had seen or heard from him since.
Now it seemed a little fishy that we were experiencing all of these deaths, and threats from “Justin” when he would have never harmed a sole who didn’t need harmed. He was the choir boy of the group, went to church every Sunday when possible, Sunday dinners with his mama, would give the shirt off his back if you asked for it.
“Officer Peterson, I’m not sure, and never was that this work was the work of Justin. The information that we received only said his name, we don’t have actual proof it was him. Now Malcom, is a complete asshole, and would do this in a heartbeat. I guess I had a feeling that it could be him, but I didn’t want to think it was him. This would be a very good idea to look into him. I am going to tell my men to do the same.” I said to him after he was finished.
“Okay. I’ll relay that to the other officer. The baby seems to be okay. He is at Dallas Children’s Hospital in the NICU. He was nearly a month early according to the docs, but is doing well besides that. This Luke Roberts’ was back in the US, and took a direct flight from Louisiana, arrived about twenty minutes ago.”
I let out a small relieved breath, glad that the baby wouldn’t be alone. The phone call wrapped up quickly after that, and we agreed to keep each other updated on any new info that came our way.
I sent another quick text to Jack telling him he needed to look into Malcolm’s whereabouts as soon as he got a chance. I then sent out a group text to the other men telling them all my suspicions. I got texts back with agreements that it was possible, and closed my phone again, shoving it back into my pockets.
I stopped by Dunham’s five minutes to the closing time of six p.m. and grabbed my parts, stowing them in the back of the SUV. I hopped on the interstate, and headed back to Kilgore, fighting some light traffic on the way.
All the way home, I thought about the possibility of Malcolm being behind this. The more I thought, the more I became certain that Malcolm was doing this. Now I only had to find out how, and why.
I arrived home at 2115 hours and parked the Suburban beside Cheyenne’s Silverado, climbed out and headed to the door. I walked inside and started dropping the stuff in my pockets when I saw a dart gun and a note sitting beside it. The note said only two words “Watch out.”
My eyebrows clashed in the middle of my forehead and I was just about to call out to Cheyenne when I heard a little “Pfftnt” sound, and then felt something hit me in the back of my arm. I turned and looked to the floor and saw a little yellow Nerf dart with a purple suction cup attached at the top lying there. I smiled and looked up, but didn’t see her. The couch was in the middle of the room, so sh
e could be hiding behind it. But also she could be in the hallway just waiting to ambush me.
I picked up the dart gun and called out “You know I did this for a living, right?”
I heard her snicker in the general direction of the hallway, so I headed that way. I stopped and stripped off my boots so I could walk quietly, and then went down into a crouch and rounded the corner to the hallway. She wasn’t in there either, so I poked my head into our bedroom and was assaulted by a barrage of Nerf darts to the chest. They came from underneath the bed, so I went down onto a knee and reached my hand under the bed, yanking her out from under it by her ankle. She started shrieking and laughing, turned onto her back and shot the rest of her darts at me. I waited until she was out, which was a long time, because she had cheated and gotten a mag that held over a hundred darts. Finally out of darts, she threw her arms up in surrender and I let her go. I then took aim and shot the five that I had in my measly little gun at her stomach, then dropped down to my knees on either side of her and started tickling for all I was worth.
She went ballistic at that, squirmed, bit, fought, scratched and laughed until finally she was too tired to fight back anymore.
“Uncle!” she screamed. “You’re gonna make me pee!!”
I stopped, and bent down to give her a soft kiss on the lips.
“Thank you, baby, I needed that.” I whispered to her lips.
She squirmed out from under me, and then headed into the bathroom with gun in hand, looking back at me over her shoulder with a devious expression on her face.
I got a feeling that she was up to no good. I was just about to follow her in there when she came back out with a super soaker and took aim.
“Don’t you dare.” I said to her in a firm voice.
She however didn’t listen. She started with a little squirt, and shot me straight in the middle of the chest. Since I was enjoying her game, I took off out of the room, and then headed outside to the water hose that was connected to the front of the house. I was just about to turn the water on when I felt even more water being squirted at my back.
Game on.
Cheyenne
I ran up behind Sam and was squirting him in the back when he turned the tables on me and shot me in the face with the water house. I let out a loud scream and ran away until I was too far away for him to reach me with the hose, but not too far away to still squirt him with the water gun. I sat in the middle of the yard, sopping wet laughing at him because he couldn’t reach me and squirted him while he tried to dodge my aim until finally I ran out. The super soaker was the biggest I could find, but eventually all good things came to an end.
I noticed movement to my left and glanced over to see that we now had an audience. Blaine, Elliott, Gabe, and Max were all standing outside watching the show all with huge grins on their faces. I waved to them, and Blaine waved back.
While I wasn’t paying attention, Sam had snuck up on me and captured me to his big buff strong body.
“Now what?” he rumbled.
“I have to pee still.” I said to him hopefully.
“Too bad.” He growled, tossed me over his shoulder and strode purposefully to the house. Once inside, he took me straight to the bathroom, plopping me down onto the floor with little care.
He was peeling off his shirt, and started to work on his jeans while I sat there drooling. His chest was a work of art in itself. His pecs were well defined, and the tattoos on each one were so intriguing. One was a grim reaper with an American flag behind him, and some names on a list. There was a RIP beside it with dates. The newest date was the day Dougie died, standing out starkly with blinding black ink. The other was a really funky Celtic cross that was black and white, but it looked a lot deeper in color than the others on his body. I had yet to find out about them, and he hadn’t shared.
“What is the story behind those tattoos?” I asked quietly.
“This one is the men who died under my command.” He pointed to his left pectoral. “This one is one that my dad got his buddies to give me when I was thirteen. Nothing special behind it, only that I remembered my mom liked crosses, and if I had to get one I wanted it to me memorable.
“Thirteen?” I said. “What the hell?”
“Yea that was my dear old dad for you. Hurt like a SOB too. Was done like they do in prisons. They put the ink on there with a needle by hand.”
I decided I didn’t want to know anymore, because knowing that his father had made him suffer when he was only a young boy made me nauseous.
I stripped off my shirt and bra with relative ease. It was the wet jeans that I had a problem with. I sat down on the floor and took off my tennis shoes and socks, and laid back to start peeling off my jeans. All the while Sam watched with amusement while I wiggled out of them. I’m not sure if you have ever tried to get off jeans that were wet before, but it is even harder to do when you had to lie on the bed, wiggling your body and sucking in just to get the suckers up and buttoned.
Once they were off I said “You could have helped, ya know.”
“Yea, but then I wouldn’t have gotten the pleasure of watching you writhing on the ground half naked, your boobs jiggling and bouncing.”
“Whatever.” I said, and headed into the bedroom to search for my clean dry clothes.
He hooked me from behind and pulled me into his body kissing his way down my neck and spine.
Yes he surely knew how to make it up to a lady. And he did such a fine job that I promised myself that I would find other ways for him to make stuff up to me.
Chapter 15
I woke up the next morning when the front door clicked shut. I turned my head and glanced at the clock, noting that it was 0645 hours. I loved the military jargon that I learned from Sam.
Speaking of Mr. Hot Stuff, Sam walked into the room in a pair of low slung Nike shorts and tennis shoes. His body was dripping sweat, and he looked like he just did a hard run.
He did two different types of runs in the early morning. One was a hard run, where he ran eight miles in a certain time limit. The easy run days consisted of him running, but not timing himself or tracking his mileage.
He saw that I was awake when he glanced at me and started heading my way. I threw the covers off and slipped off the other side of the bed. He was sweating buckets, and I so did not want to get all sweaty, unless there was something in it for me.
“Uh-uh.” I said to him.
It didn’t stop him though, because he just kept on coming. I tried to climb over the bed again but he caught me and pulled me back against his sweaty chest, and buried his face into my neck. I could feel his sweat clinging to me, and now I would have to take a shower. His arms were wrapped around me trapping me to him.
Yick!
Sam finally let me go, but it was too late. I was saturated in his sweat and now needed a shower. I turned around and saw him smirking at me. Butt head.
“I hope you are planning to clean me off. That is the only thing that would make this worth it.” I said to him.
“How would you like to go fishing?” he asked.
I moved a little closer to him and whispered, “Really?
“Yes. I think it’s time for a little R&R. We can fit two others on the boat. Who else do you want to take?” he asked.
“Ember is working today, so ask Blaine and Elliott.” I said.
“Okay. I’m going to do a few more exercises. You call Blaine. Then get in the shower.” He said to me.
“Sam?” I asked from the doorway of the bathroom.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.” I said, and then walked into the bathroom completely.
∞
Blaine and I were standing on the dock while Elliott and Sam put gas into the boat. Sam rented a boat slip at Bull Frog Marina. Bull Frog was one of the more expensive ones, and I wondered how much money he had. I’ve never broached the subject because I didn’t really care if he had money or not, but seeing him with a brand new bass boat with pretty red sparkly paint
in a boat slip at one of the most expensive marinas to rent from got my mind wandering.
“I wish they painted cars like this. It’s so sparkly!” Blaine said.
“I know, right?” I said.
“Have you ever fished before?” she asked.
“No. You?” I asked.
“Not since I was younger. Elliott fishes a lot though. I just haven’t had anyone to go with me, and fishing is boring when you are alone. This was Elliott’s thing, and I didn’t want to encroach on Elliott’s favorite past time.”
“Well now you have someone to do it with. I can’t wait! I’m not a big fan on the lake itself though. If we capsized I’d probably drown. I don’t like not being able to see.” I said.
Sam and Elliott finished up and told us to get on the boat. Sam held my hand while I stepped into the rocking boat. Blaine followed right behind me, and then the guys demonstrated their machoness by not having to need a hand in.
“Have a seat at the front ladies.”
Sam didn’t drive the boat fast. We had a talk on the way there, and he knew that I was scared of the lake. He was being very considerate of my feelings. We rode to one of Elliott’s favorite “Honey Hole” as he calls it. We were fishing for catfish today, according to our fishing guides.
Sam asked me what I wanted to fish with, Catfish Charlie or live minnows. Catfish Charlie is the most god awful smelling shit I have ever smelled, but anything was better than killing those cute little minnows. He showed me how to tie a hook on, put the bait on the hook, and then how to cast the line. Elliott was showing Blaine the same thing on the other side.
“Watch your cork, when it goes under give your pole a good yank to set the hook.” Sam showed me.
It wasn’t even two minutes of having my line in the water before I had a bite. One second my cork was there, the next it was gone. I gave an excited squeal and set the hook just like Sam told me. I started reeling my line in when suddenly it went taut and the fish started to fight back. Blaine let out an excited squeal beside me and she was reeling in too. Both guys stopped what they were doing and had bright smiles on their faces as they listened to Blaine and I carry on.
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