Beautiful Bounty (The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros. Book 1)

by Nightingale, MJ

  She put the little white caps back on, and walked quickly back to the living room area before she changed her mind and lost her nerve. Smiling down on Nikko, she put one bottle under her arm, and flipped the cap on the other. He was out cold. “So you like barbecue, you pig?” she said the words softly just in case he woke up. She was sure he wouldn’t, but wanted to be careful just in case. She tipped the first bottle over, and began to squeeze. A shot of syrupy maroon liquid shot out of the bottle splashing all over his immaculately pressed shirt. It looked like blood. She hoped he would wake before the hotel cleaning staff arrived. But it was too late to worry about the consequences of that now.

  She walked all around him continuously squirting the fragrant condiment down one leg and up the other until the bottle was empty. She set the bottle down next to Nikko’s half-finished screw driver. She only sipped hers while she talked, knowing she would be driving. She didn’t want to drink and drive. She needed her wits about her at the airport.

  She uncapped the second bottle. She retraced her steps, squirting until Nikko was fully basted. “You’ll never want barbecue again. Bastard. I guarantee it,” she whispered over Nikko’s body.

  This bottle she kept in her hands though. A thought just occurred to her. Stooping, she placed it between his slippery muscled thighs. Again, she muttered her thoughts. “What a shame.” And with one final look back, Ronnie retrieved her much lighter back pack, and walked out the door. She had places to go, and Gary to see.

  ***

  Ronnie breathed a huge sigh of relief as she buckled her seatbelt. She was nearly ready for the trickiest part of her plan. She said a silent prayer this would work. Her mom and she looked so much alike. Except the hair color. She had taken care of that. She stopped at The Todd, a sex shop for couples in Tampa, knowing they were open late and bought a brunette wig. She stopped at a convenience station with an outside restroom, and despite the filth, took the time to put it on and felt it would pass muster. She mussed it up some, to go for the disarrayed look she wanted, and then headed to the airport. She got on a flight to Bangor leaving at one in the morning with a quick layover in Philly. All should be good, she just had to get past security in Tampa. Pinching her nose several times, she made it red and puffy, and rubbed at her eyes to leave some smudges from her mascara.

  Her mom looked amazing for her age. She always took great care of her body and drank plenty of water. Her identification showed some fine lines, marks of her age Ronnie didn’t have. But her plan was to be crying softly as she went through security. Going to her dad’s funeral would be her excuse, thus the late flight. With the wig, the comfortable sweats she had on, the sloppy jacket, she figured no one would look too closely. She’d pass. She had before. She’d used her mom’s ID to get into clubs when she was younger. It would work. It had to. Driving would be out of the question. She’d be caught before she got to the state line. She had to take this chance. Her name might not be on security’s radar, but it might. She couldn’t risk using her own.

  And as she suspected, she was able to purchase the tickets at the self-serve kiosk using her mom’s ID and credit card. She felt guilty about doing that and planned to pay her back every penny. She had originally planned on paying cash, but had thought it might seem too suspicious. Blowing her nose then wiping at it as she checked through security worked. They passed her through. When she went through the scanning machine, the female guard looked a bit longer than she would have liked. Ronnie mumbled, “Sorry, my dad died,” and then more sympathetically the female guard waved her through. Relief and guilt coursed through her at the same time.

  Retrieving her bag, she was allowed to put her ID away, and that was the last time she would need it. She let out a silent sigh of relief. Now she just needed her gate pass which she clutched close to her chest to get on the plane which was departing in less than thirty minutes. It should already be boarding now, she thought, as she picked up her pace to gate A17. She kept the tissue close, and head down solemnly as she handed her pass to the check in clerk who tore it in two and handed her portion back to her. She entered the tunnel to the plane and was ignored by the flight attendant as she passed by. Most of the people flying were already seated. She found her seat quickly and hunched down intending to sleep as much as she could for the four and a half hour trip that included the layover.

  When the flight attendant announced for the passengers to put on their seatbelts, they would be taking off soon, she was able to relax somewhat and found she could breathe easier. She’d be in Bangor before six AM, out of the airport before anyone woke up, including her mother, an early riser. By six thirty she hoped she’d be in a taxi on her way to her grandparents. She needed her bike. It was the only way she could get to Gary, to where she thought he’d be anyway, undetected.

  ***

  Ronnie slept during most of the flight. She was surprised, but glad she did. Exhaustion, emotional and physical, had overtaken her. The flight attendants had woken her to disembark in Philly, but when she informed them she was taking the same plane to her final destination they allowed her to remain. She had to do a lot this morning, then she would crash for the day, and take action tonight. She needed to have her wits about her when she saw Gary for the first time. He would most assuredly be suspicious of her surprising and sudden appearance, and she had to approach him just right.

  As soon as the plane landed on the tarmac in Bangor, and began to pull slowly up to the gate, she unsnapped her seatbelt before the light turned off. She heard the travelers around her doing the same thing, and the flight attendant wasn’t complaining. These late flights were never full, and most people slept. She had been lucky enough to have the row to herself, and thus avoided having to make small talk.

  When the light finally clicked off, she was out of her seat in a flash and making her way up the aisle passing people who had put their luggage in the overhead compartment. She kept her bag under the seat before her. She hadn’t wanted to waste time checking it. Also, she didn’t know how many taxis would be waiting in arrivals, and she sure as heck didn’t want to have to wait for one. Then there would be all the people arriving to take a flight. Bangor wasn’t small, but she was sure her face had been plastered all over the news. She wanted to avoid being recognized by the newsmongers. The wig would help, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

  She hustled pass the flight attendant and cock pit crew who stood at the front of the plane wishing everyone well, and gave only a brief nod as she passed. Her small purse was already across her shoulder, but she shifted slightly to pull up her hoodie on her jacket before she walked out into the main terminal. She kept her head down, and began to walk around the slower people taking their time in the disembarkation tunnel. She had just a few of the first class passengers ahead of her, and she could see the door to the exit just up ahead. She would easily get a taxi, she thought, as she maneuvered past another couple.

  ***

  In the terminal, she passed an older couple pulling luggage on wheels, and a younger man with a large ruck sack. She got a bit frustrated when a woman pushing a stroller stopped dead in her tracks in front of her to retrieve a dropped binky, but instead squeezed passed her ignoring the woman when she heard her curse at her retreating back. She needed to move. The large open area she emerged into was packed with people awaiting to board the plane she’d just gotten off of. She tucked in her chin, and again surged forward weaving around people blocking the aisle. She saw the escalator leading to the downstairs area and ticket counters, and quickly got on, walking down the moving steps until she was trapped by a man standing stock still unaware she was directly behind him. He was huge and carried a very large briefcase. There was no way she could get around him. Silently cursing, she waited impatiently. As soon as he stepped off the escalator she moved around him and began to walk by the ticket agents, and then the car rental booths towards the exit. Three taxis, waited outside. Glancing covertly at the drivers waiting to pick up a fare, she had to choose a driver
and she wanted to be sure to choose the one that wouldn’t be too nosy or talkative during the long drive. One was smoking a cigarette, and one was a woman. She picked the last one. He was older, and she hoped the least observant.

  She made eye contact, and nodded towards his car. He nodded, and opened the door for her. She slid in.

  The older man shuffled around the car, and took his sweet time and when he did get in, she noticed he turned on the meter before asking her where she wanted to go. When she told him, he smiled.

  “No one to pick you up miss?’ he asked curiously.

  “No, sir,” she answered. “I’m going to a funeral, and everyone’s pretty busy,” she offered giving him the story she was still going to use.

  “Oh, sorry to hear that, sweetie. Someone close?” he asked looking at her in the rearview mirror.

  “My dad,” she mumbled, pulling out her balled up tissue and unraveling it, she brought it to her face.

  “Oh darling, then I’m really sorry for your loss.” He saw her swipe at her face in the rearview mirror, and felt guilty for asking.

  The radio was on, and the music broke for a commercial. The DJ announced the six o’clock news would be on shortly and she felt a moment of panic. She hoped she hadn’t been discovered missing yet.

  “Hey mister,” she asked. “I’m really beat, and since it is such a long drive, would you mind turning off the radio so I could sleep a bit,” she asked. She didn’t know if the news would report anything about her, but just in case she wanted the radio off, especially if they announced she had fled the state of Florida, and might possibly be in the area.

  “Sure thing darling,” he called over his shoulder. She watched as he reached towards the radio, and pushed it off. “I just gotta call my dispatcher and let her know where I’m going, then I’ll even shut off the squawk box here.”

  His voice was full of concern and sympathy. Gotta love Maine. The people had heart. Well, most of them anyway.

  She nodded, and thanked him, then slunk down in her seat. She used her back pack as a pillow, and pulled her hoodie tighter around her as the driver made his call to dispatch. She listened in, hoping the dispatcher didn’t pass along any other news. When she didn’t, Ronnie was relieved and comfortable enough to relax. She wouldn’t sleep though just in case he turned the radio back on.

  The car picked up speed shortly afterwards, and Ronnie knew they must be on the Interstate now. Soon, she thought. Once she got her bike, all would be good. She knew the trails around her grandpa’s place like the back of her hand, she knew the woods. She knew all the trails in and around the Aroostook State Park. Knew the forests well. Gary’s family owned an impressive cabin on Lake Echo at the foot of Quaggy Joe Mountain. The Campbell’s controlled the timber rights in pretty much all of Aroostook County. Her bet was he was hiding there.

  She peeked out from her hoodie, looking up at the trees whizzing by, the pine, the evergreen, the white oaks, and the fir trees. Yes, it was good to be home. She loved Maine. She loved these woods. It smelled like home, she thought as she got comfortable for the long ride ahead.

  “Hey, Miss. We are almost there.” Ronnie heard the strange voice deep inside her dream, and it took her a moment to realize where she was. Crap. She had fallen asleep after all, and to make matters worse, she had a crick in her neck. At least he’d been true to his word and the radio was still off.

  Ronnie sat up, and looked around recognizing the area immediately. She was minutes from her grandfather’s. Another brief panic hit her. She didn’t know if there would be police there or not. She asked the driver if he could pull over here. He looked startled for a moment. Confused. “But the house is still a mile or two off.”

  “I’d like to walk and stretch my legs a bit. See the old place,” she trailed off softly, adding,” Before I have to go in and you know . . .,” the tissue came out. She was trying to think of something logical to say. She couldn’t tell him there might be police cars, and she didn’t want her grandparents to see a taxi pulling up at eight o’clock in the morning.

  “Oh, oh, I understand,” he stated fatherly. “Before you have to face everyone and all the people trying to offer their condolences.”

  “Yes, exactly,” she breathed a sigh of relief. Mainers were wise and always made astute assumptions. They were usually right too. But she had been lying to the cabbie anyway, and so she was perfectly happy to agree with his presumption. “I’ve got a lot of good memories of my dad walking me down this road to the school bus,” she added to make the story more believable.

  The car was stopped now, and she pulled out her wallet. Her ID slipped out, and she quickly made a grab for it on the floor of the cab. “How much, sir?” she asked as she fumbled to put it away her hands shaking suddenly.

  “Um, it’s 175.76 here on the meter, sweetie. Sorry.” He gave her a sad smile.

  She returned it. “It’s okay. I expected it would be a lot. Here,” she said handing him two one hundred dollar bills. “Keep the change.”

  “You don’t have to do that, honey,” he replied.

  “No, you let me sleep, and were so kind. Really, it’s no problem.” She wanted him to have it. He was a kind soul. He reminded her of her granddad a lot.

  “Well, thank you kindly. You’re a beautiful sweet girl, and I’m sure your dad is looking down from heaven right proud of the girl he raised.”

  She nodded, hating the lie and the pretense, but she had no choice. Ronnie opened the door, swung her legs out. “Thanks Mister. It means a lot.” Frankly, she had no clue where her dad was these days. She’d met the man once in her entire life. It had been in her first year of college, and she hadn’t been impressed. But, this man thought she was coming to bury him, so she carried on with the façade.

  The driver began to make a U-turn in the road, and she waved at him as he began to pick up speed. She began to walk towards her grandparents’ house. It was about a mile and half away, and she wanted to get off the road soon in case other cars passed by, but made herself walk slowly, for one minute until she was sure the taxi was out of sight on this long straight stretch of road. She took one peek back, assured herself the taxi was gone, and then ducked into the woods along the side of the road. She walked in perhaps ten feet, before stopping. She was hidden from the road by a large pine, and dropped her bag. She unzipped it, and pulled out her hiking boots. These sneakers were no good for riding her motorcycle, and no good for this terrain. Lots of soft spots in the soil, and rocks could cause her to stumble and sprain an ankle. She couldn’t afford to get injured now. She needed her hiking boots in order to get a good solid grip on gnarled tree roots, and branches too. She also knew going this way, around the back side of her granddad’s property, there would be a stream she would need to cross.

  Once her sneakers were in her bag, the wig was also removed, and she left it on the grass. She wouldn’t be needing that again. Her helmet when she was driving would hide her features and her hair. She wouldn’t be spending much time out and about anyway. Except for her trip to radio shack. Crap! She still needed the damn wig. Shaking out the dirt, she stuffed it into her bag and zipped it shut.

  The only part of her plan that was going to be a problem was getting to her bike without her grandfather noticing her. He was an early riser, and he was always puttering around outside doing something. She would have to bide her time, stay hidden, and wait until he went indoors for lunch, then get into the shed. She knew where he hid the key. She’d make sure her tank had fuel. He always had gas canisters on hand this far out, so that shouldn’t be an issue, and then walk the bike out hoping he wasn’t looking out the back window until she was far enough away to get on and ride off. Simple right? Not really. Her granddad, Roland, was as sharp as they came. A former marine from Vietnam, he was crafty, and she learned from him. She knew how to be quiet, where to step, and where not to in these woods. But again, all those skills she had gotten at his heels.

  Walking through these woods put her at ease. It was
those special times as a child with her grandfather that made her decide to become a forest ranger in the first place. She breathed in the woodsy scents of pine and other fir trees. She listened to the birds and animals of the forest getting quieter at her approach, remaining silent until she passed. God, she loved it. The serenity. The peace. It was her true home.

  Time was passing, and from the looks of the sun, nearing nine. She was getting close. She could see the end of the tree line that wound around her grandfather’s property. And sure enough, she caught sight of his faded blue Red Sox cap through the branches. She stopped and popped a squat. Make yourself small, he told her many times. The smaller you are and the lower you are to the ground, the less likely you are to be seen. It’s why the animals crouched to reduce their size and possibly their chances of detection. Her heart ached to run to him though, call out, “Pepere, I’m home.”

  But, he’d try to stop her. She needed to do this. Clear up this mess so they could all move on. Her grandpa was heading to the shed, but he stopped mid-stride, and just smiled. Turning around, he gazed at the woods. She ached to be held by the man she regarded as a father. He loved these woods as much as she. He stooped to pick up a rock, and tossed it into the air, catching it. He began to whistle and to move again. Slow measured steps until he reached the shed. He slipped the rock into his pocket, and approached the door to the shed. He unlocked it with the key he hunched down to retrieve from underneath the flower pot beside the wood pile. He went in, and Ronnie moved just a bit to relieve the strain in her hamstrings. She got comfortable. She may have to wait here awhile. As she stilled, the birds picked up their usual chatter, and she occasionally heard noises from the shed where her granddad was working. But, he didn’t stay there long. Maybe twenty minutes and he began to approach the house.