by Lowe, Aden
"I'm ready for a cold drink. How about you?"
Rita blessed him with her dazzling smile. "Yeah, me too." She led the way to the door, forcing him to hurry to get around her so he could open the door for her. She gave him another of those gorgeous smiles in appreciation, and went inside, pausing just over the threshold for his hand to reach her waist. How did she know he needed to stake that claim before strangers?
Not for the first time, gratitude filled him that she allowed all his little territorial displays, as his ex had called it. Rita actually seemed to welcome him making sure others knew they were together. If it meant marking his territory, so be it. He simply didn't share.
Rita headed down a narrow aisle toward the coolers, and Falon couldn't help being a little claustrophobic. The shelves were higher than his head on both sides, cutting off his line of sight through the small store. He didn't like tunnels, and that narrow aisle seriously reminded him of one. Nothing good happened in tunnels. They always collapsed or flooded or got blocked and trapped people.
Like that punk-ass kid at the end pretending to search for the perfect stale chips could easily be an ambush. Falon tensed as shuffling footsteps sounded behind him. He tightened his fingers on Rita's, hoping she would get the signal, and then released her hand. It might be nothing, but he didn't intend to get caught by surprise. Not in a damn tunnel.
They neared the end of the aisle and the punk turned to face them, grinning and blocking the way. "Hey, folks. What say you stay real quiet-like, and hand over the cash?"
Rita froze and Falon sensed the anger coursing through her. He shifted his position to keep an eye toward their rear. She stepped a little away from him and put her hands on her hips, and very deliberately looked the punk up and down. "I don't fucking think so. You picked the wrong people to try and hold up."
The punk first looked a little embarrassed and afraid, but his nerve quickly reasserted itself. He raised the bottom of his stained and ragged T-shirt to reveal the butt of a small handgun at his waistband. "Bitch, I don't want no trouble, but I can handle it."
Rita bent a little as if to brush some dust from her boot, presenting Falon with a tempting view of her ass. The wicked looking .40 she'd chosen to carry in her boot practically leapt into her hand as she straightened. "Sweetheart, I am trouble. Back up." She looked like trouble, too, with her snug jeans tucked into black boots, and a faded denim jacket she'd cut the sleeves out of. Under the jacket, a royal-blue corset that hugged every sexy-as-sin curve made Falon's cock throb every time he got a glimpse.
He felt like a fucking idiot. Who thought of how delicious a woman's breasts tasted in the middle of a mugging? He had to be all alone in that distinctive proclivity. But try as he might, the memory refused to leave him alone, even as he braced himself to deal with the punk's partner, now only a few feet behind.
Enough fooling around. He needed to get this done so he could get Rita somewhere more private and taste her again. Annoyed and increasingly frustrated, he turned on his heel, trusting Rita to handle the first punk while he took care of the partner.
Surprised, he froze. The emaciated girl standing a few feet away didn't look capable of harming anyone. But the revolver in her fragile hands could likely do the job, if she could hold it steady enough.
The barrel wavered and her eyes went huge. "I'm sorry, mister, but we need the money real bad. We ain't eat nothing for three days." Certainly believable.
Falon kept his voice gentle. "And you thought this was the best way to make some?"
Tears rolled over the girl's cheeks. "No, but nobody won't let us work and we've sold ever'thing we can, including our asses."
The punk edged carefully around Rita, suddenly looking as young and scared as the girl. He couldn't be more than maybe fifteen. "Look, mister, we really didn't mean no harm. We left home a few weeks ago and our money ran out fast. We thought we could make it, but we just can't."
Rita put her gun away. "How old are you two?"
The girl's revolver went back into the oversize jacket she wore. "I'm fourteen. He's seventeen. Look, we're really sorry. We won't do it again. Please don't call the cops." To her credit, she'd gained control of her tears and blinked them back.
Falon sighed and glanced at Rita to gauge her reaction. Her concerned frown confirmed his own impulse. "We're not calling the cops. Tell me, does this place have real food? Sandwiches or something?"
The kids looked at each other and the girl closed her eyes in a long blink and swallowed hard. "I think they have pizza by the slice up front."
Falon nodded. "Good. Go with Rita and grab what you want to drink. Meet me up front."
Rita nodded and gently took the girl's hand and led her toward the coolers while the boy trailed behind.
Falon headed for the check-out area, and spotted the pizza warmer. Half a dozen petrified slices sat in little puddles of grease. Behind the counter, a heavy-set girl sat reading a romance novel and wearing earphones, ensuring nothing interrupted while she jiggled a few beaded braids to click the beads together. Falon tried just standing in front of her for a moment, but when that didn't work, he tapped on the counter. Still no response. Well, okay then. He hopped up to sit on the counter and snatched her book.
That got her attention. A heavy scowl settled on her face and she yanked the earphones down. "What you do that for?"
"Couldn't get your attention any other way. I could have walked out with the whole store, except I want some pizza." Falon deliberately closed the book without marking the page and placed it on the counter before he slid back down.
Still scowling, the clerk took a little triangular box from under the counter and opened the warmer.
"Oh, no you don't. I want fresh, and I want a whole pizza."
"Well this ain't Dominoes. Sorry 'bout your luck." A slice of the dried up stuff slid into the box. "Anything else? Didn't think so. That'll be five twenty-six."
Falon took out his phone. "What's your manager's phone number? Let's just see about my luck." He grinned.
The scowl got heavier and the triangular box thumped in the trash can. "Be fifteen minutes, sir. And twenty-one forty-eight."
He shook his head. "I don't know where you're getting those numbers. Your sign up there says two bucks a slice. Twelve for a whole pie. It might come to that with the stuff my friends are getting, too."
Right on cue, Rita and the kids approached. Each of the kids put a bottle of soda on the counter, while Rita set a plastic basket loaded with drinks and snack foods up beside them.
"We'll take this stuff now, and wait outside for the pizza." Under Falon's watchful eye, the clerk took an uncooked pizza from a small cooler and slid it into what looked like an oversized toaster oven. Probably wouldn't be a good idea to not watch every move she made with the food. Unless he missed his guess, she was totally the type to spit in someone's food if they pissed her off.
After his purchases were rung up by a dagger-glaring clerk, Falon lifted his chin to indicate Rita should take the kids and stuff outside. One hip against the counter, he crossed his arm and returned the frown.
A trace of fear showed in the clerk's eyes. "What you want now?"
Falon let her worry about it for a minute, then shrugged. "Nothing."
Her brows went up. "Nothing? Buddy, you still here."
"Yeah."
"Uh…Why?"
"Just want to be sure nothing unfortunate happens to my pizza. Don't mind me." He picked up her romance novel and deliberately looked it over. "Looks like a good book."
The brows rose another notch. "Seriously? Dude, what's wrong with you?" Surprised indignation made her voice raise and take on a shrill note.
The book made a satisfying smack when he let it drop back to the counter. "I'm serious, it looks like a good book. Something wrong with that? It sure had your attention."
The belligerent façade quickly replaced her startled curiosity. "Dude, do I look I want to discuss vampire-fucking with you? No, I do not. Now, if you're not b
uying anything else, I'd appreciate if you'd wait outside."
Falon grinned. "Okay, I'll quit messing with you. Bad habit of mine. I'm sorry. I really wanted to ask you about those two kids that left with my friend. Do you know if they're from around here?"
Dark eyes studied him, as if judging his sincerity. Finally she sighed. "Dude, I ain't never seen them before. Besides, y'all folk look alike to me. But a couple of little broke-ass white junkies? That wouldn't be missed around here. Or welcomed."
"Good to know. Thank you." At least part of the kids' story might check out then. Before he could ask anything else, the timer for the pizza dinged.
She turned took it out, cut and boxed it in a matter of seconds. "You want garlic butter with that?" A tentative smile crossed her generous mouth, gone in seconds.
"No thanks, darlin'. This is good. Thanks."
Chapter Five: Rita
Outside with the silent teenagers, Rita led the way to the picnic table she'd spotted when they arrived. The pair huddled together on one of the benches, looking terrified.
The bag with their purchases rattled as Rita fished out the two small bottles of orange juice she'd picked up. "You two better drink these first. It'll give you a little boost until the pizza kicks in."
The boy's hand shook as he took a bottle and opened it. "Thank you, Ma'am." He passed the first bottle to his girlfriend and opened the second for himself.
Was she really old enough to be a Ma'am? Hell, she hoped not. "I'm Rita, by the way. My friend in there is Falon." That poor girl barely managed to pick up her bottle under her own power. Shit. Moving slowly, Rita slid into the bench beside her, careful not to crowd. "Here, honey, let me help you. You look about to pass out."
The girl accepted her steadying touch and drank deeply while the boy finished his. "I'm Mason, and this is Daphne. We're really sorry again, Ma'am. How can we repay you all?"
"We're not looking for repayment." Falon's voice behind them startled Rita nearly as much as it did the kids. He'd approached with that eerie stillness of his. "How'd you two end up here?" He set the pizza box on the table in front of Mason and Daphne and flipped the lid back. "Dig in."
Daphne seemed steadier and Rita left her side to take a seat on the opposite bench. Falon sat next to her and took her hand.
Mason grabbed a slice of the pizza and handed it to Daphne, then took one for himself. The look on the little girl's face when she took her first bite brought tears to Rita's eyes. Between bites, the pair started speaking.
"We met in a foster home, my sixth, Mason's eleventh, in Nashville. I'd been in some not-so-good ones and he'd been in far worse. But that place, it was a nightmare."
Mason took up the story then. "It was all boys, except Daphne. The woman home-schooled us using only the Bible. No electricity, entirely off the grid. It was sort of a last chance for kids other people couldn't handle. We all learned real quick to follow the crazy rules. There was a little boy, brother to one of the older ones, who still wet the bed. The woman made him stand on his knees, arms out straight at his sides, and recite Bible verses for an hour. And if he shook or sagged, his time started all over."
Anger began a slow burn in Rita's brain, and she had a feeling it was going to get far worse before they were done talking.
Daphne started again. "When I got there, it was really strange being the only girl. I was twelve. But I dealt with it and learned to do all the cooking and cleaning the way she wanted. Mason kind of looked out for me from the start and so did one of the other older boys. So when they could, they'd help me with the work. She caught them once and whipped all three of us. Mason still has scars on his back. It was bad, but we could survive it. Right after that, everything changed for the worse." Tears flooded her eyes as she looked to Mason.
When he started to speak again, the boy's voice grew hoarse with powerless anger. "A couple weeks later, Daphne got her period. The woman flipped her wig, stripped Daphne in front of all of us, beat her and called her horrible names. I tried to stop her and the man beat the hell out of me and threw me in the Box, where they kept us when reciting verses on our knees didn't do the trick."
Fury burned Rita's cheeks, and Falon's fingers nearly crushed hers with his own anger. "Where were the social workers when this was going on?"
Daphne shrugged. "We never saw them. There was no one to tell and no way out. No one would have believed us anyway. They knew all the right things to say."
"And it got worse still. Daphne and I got close. We liked each other, but there was no time for talking or anything. The woman noticed we looked at each other a lot and she lost her shit again. She stripped Daphne again and us boys were tied and forced to watch while the man raped her, over and over. Then they stripped me and the woman got a knife. They decided to cut my balls off. I fought and so did the others, but we were tied to this frame they'd made for that. They forgot Daphne though. She managed to get another knife and came up behind them while the woman was going over all kinds of verses and the man was raping my ass."
The girl interrupted with a voice so soft Rita had to strain to hear. "I don't know how I did it, but I cut her throat before she could hurt Mason any more. The man was too busy to notice, so I did the same to him. I cut Mason loose, and the other boy who helped me, before I passed out."
"We got everybody loose, gathered up anything worth selling, got Daphne out and burnt the house to the ground with them in it. We stole the truck and drove into Nashville, ditched it for a few hundred bucks, and split up. I found a place for Daphne and me to lay low for a few days while we healed up. We made it for about a month before our money ran out and we just couldn't find work. We decided to leave and try somewhere else."
Mind reeling with horror, Rita listened in silence to the rest of their story. They'd bounced from place to place, stealing to eat when they couldn't find a little work, even turning to prostitution as a last resort. Falon shook with anger long after they'd stopped talking.
"Look, I know you have no reason to take my word, but I'd like to help you both." Falon placed his hands evenly on the table and looked from one to the other. "I have a friend about an hour away. His church has a sort of half-way house for runaway teens. It's a haven and they don't report to the system. I've seen it, it's a good place. They help with medical, GED, job training, or whatever you need to help you get on your feet. If it's okay with you, I'd like to call him and see if they have a couple of spaces for you."
Mason and Daphne looked at each other, the sudden hope in their faces painful to see. Mason turned back with a broad smile. "I think we'd like that."
Falon made a call and spoke briefly about the situation to whoever answered. After a moment he hung and smiled. "He'll be here to get you in about an hour. We'll wait with you if it's okay? I haven't seen him and his wife for a couple years."
The pair paused in the midst of wolfing down more pizza and nodded. To Rita's surprise, Falon went on to explain that he'd known the man in the Army and even told a couple of stories about him. The hour passed quickly, and they handed the kids over to Falon's buddy.
Watching closely, Rita decided she approved. The man had the kindest eyes, and an easy, natural way with the kids. They seemed to take an immediate liking to him. When the minivan with the church logo pulled out of the parking lot, relief swept through her, weakening her knees for a moment. She cleaned up their trash while Falon went back inside to get them a couple bottles of water.
When he dropped onto the bench beside her, a frown furrowed his forehead. "God, I hope that works out for those kids."
"Yeah, me too. They deserve a little something good for a change." She took a sip of her water. "We ready to head out soon?"
"Think so. I want to try again to get hold of Barger. He should have got back with me by now." Worry gave his voice an unfamiliar tone. He must have been close with this Jakob Barger.
Thoughts focused on how to solve the problem, Rita reached to take his hand. "Maybe we could try a web search and see if alterna
tive contact is out there somewhere for him."
He grinned and leaned in to kiss her. "You're a genius, you know that? I saw a sign inside about wi-fi. Let's go see if we can use it." Without waiting, he grabbed her hand and dragged her for the door, his excitement palpable.
The pretty dark-skinned girl behind the counter allowed Falon to use her laptop for his searches. She seemed to have developed an odd sort of liking for him, but Rita didn't question it.
Leaning over Falon's shoulder, Rita spotted a search result for an obituary for well-known hunter, Frank Barger. He clicked it and they read together, spotting the mention of a nephew Jakob Barger. A little more digging produced a phone listing for Frank Barger in the same town. Falon tried the number, but it only rang endlessly.
Some vital bit of info hovered just out of reach, but Rita couldn't quite put her finger on it. She went back over every detail they knew about the plot heading for Falon's old friend. Suddenly, it hit. "The woman!"
Startled, Falon just raised one brow and looked at her.
"The name of the woman Kellen is supposed to get. We have it. We might be able to reach her."
He laughed aloud. "You're a genius again." He immediately searched the name he'd heard with the help of the listening device he'd planted at the meeting when Kellen got his orders. The search returned several listings for Kate Holt, mostly horse related. Apparently, she was a highly sought-after horse trainer. A little more digging produced a phone number and location and Falon lost no time trying to reach her.
"Nothing. Still."
"So we keep going."
They thanked the clerk and returned her laptop, and moments later, they were on their way again.
Chapter Six: Jakob