Operation Ginger Avenger

by Heather Rainier

  “No, he’s never threatened me. Like I said, I didn’t listen to anything he had to say, once he identified himself to me in his first call. His voice is very much like…his brother’s…and, well…”

  “You had a panic attack?”

  She nodded as she pulled her hands from under her to rub her arms. “It was a good thing Bella was already asleep. I hadn’t fallen to pieces like that in a while.” She clasped her fingers together so tightly her knuckles shown white through her skin, and she frowned. “I’m so tired of others having the upper hand on me.” Her voice faltered, and her lips quivered as she looked out the window, her unfocused gaze fastened on a memory from the past that he could only guess at. “Just when I think I’m taking more than a few steps forward, something happens that takes me back to that…place.”

  Troy slid to the edge of the couch and cupped her knees with his palms. “We’re not going to let anyone get close enough to hurt you, honey.”

  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she shook her head. “That’s very chivalrous of you to say, Troy, but you both have your lives and your work. You can’t babysit me twenty-four-seven. Anyone determined enough can get to me, or to Bella. And there’s not a thing I could do about it.”

  Judging by her expression, she fully believed that, and it troubled Troy. He knew she’d taken Hank’s self-defense course. She lived on the ranch where intruders were unlikely to reach her. Yet she still felt at Dornan’s mercy.

  “We could track Brian Dornan down and pay him a social visit,” Tank murmured. “Find out what it is he wants from you. Would that help?”

  Before she could speak, Troy said, “You’re right, Jess. We can’t shadow you every hour of the day, and you probably wouldn’t like it if we tried. So why not let us go to the source? We know some people who could help us.”

  “Don’t you risk getting yourselves into trouble by doing that? You’re security specialists, I get that, but I don’t want you to have a black mark on your record for reaching out to someone who could wind up making trouble for you. He could find out where you work and tell Chance and Clayton.”

  Tank snorted. “Chance and Clayton would probably volunteer to help us. If it concerns your wellbeing and safety, they probably wouldn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thinks of our methods. I mean it’s not like we’re going to beat the guy up. We just want to get to the bottom of the calls. Have you taken out a restraining order on him?”

  It was Jessica’s turn to snort in disgust. “A piece of paper telling him to stay away? Please. I’d feel safer with a handgun permit.”

  “Really? What changed your mind?” Troy asked. They’d talked to her about taking a concealed handgun class and getting certified, but she’d dismissed the idea.

  “Bella. I know that’s the same reason I gave for not getting a gun. But I can’t raise her living in fear of what could happen to her because she can’t defend herself. I don’t want her to ever experience the kind of terror I have. Soon Bella will be old enough to explain to her that the world is an unsafe place and that, if I had a weapon, it’s a serious thing meant for her protection and not to play with. It’s just that I’d need a gun safe, and a good reliable weapon is expensive.” She didn’t like to talk about it with them, but he knew her budget was pretty tight.

  “We could help make that happen. In the meantime, we could teach you how to use a shotgun. The sound of a shell being chambered is a universal language to a criminal of any kind.”

  She sat up a little straighter and nodded. “I’d imagine being on the other end of that would make any creep stop and reconsider. Maybe I’ll take you up on the offer. I just get a little shaky, and my hands sweat when I’m nervous. Holding a shotgun would definitely do it.”

  “But that’s when you think about protecting Bella.”

  “Right. Yeah, okay. And if you want to find out what Brian Dornan wants from me, I wouldn’t mind. I just don’t want you in trouble.”

  “How about we enlist some professional help? Like I said, we know some guys.”

  “Okay.”

  The sense of relief that flooded his gut energized Troy. To finally have a task at hand that would provide her with a sense of security made him feel less like a useless observer.

  They could locate Brian Dornan, find out what he wanted, and convince him it was in his best interests to leave Jessica the hell alone. Doing that, while acquainting Jessica with the most basic and effective of firearms, might make it easier for Jessica to look to the future with courage, rather than struggling against her memories.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you kidding me?” Jessica said as “Pharmacy Tech” blinked at her through the drive-thru window.

  Pharmacy Tech glanced at the receipt attached to the bag. “Yep. That’ll be another ten dollars and fifty cents…plus tax. It’s a good thing we didn’t pitch this when you never came an’ got it.” She waved the bag like she expected that might still happen. “You still want it?”

  Jessica bit her lip, trying to keep her true feelings from showing on her face. “Yes, I still want it. I was down with the flu that’s going around. And I gave you my number, but I never got a call to let me know it was ready.”

  “Mmm, that may be,” Pharmacy Tech said, her tone implying that she doubted it. “Our pharmacist was out with it, too. Anyways, he says it’s an extra ten dollars and fifty cents.”

  Jessica handed Pharmacy Tech her debit card, and the drive-thru window clicked closed. It was only noon, but she was already tired out. She thought about leaving a scathing review online but doubted that the “good ol’ boy” pharmacy, as Emma referred to it, even had a website or a Facebook page.

  The window flapped back open a minute later, and Pharmacy Tech handed her a little clipboard with a receipt attached for her to sign. The pen was sticky with some foreign substance, and Jessica cringed as she used it to sign her name. She was about to hand the clipboard with the merchant copy of the receipt attached when she noticed the amount. “Excuse me, you charged me the full amount all over again, plus the extra ten dollars and fifty cents. Now I’ve paid double.”

  Pharmacy Tech blinked at the receipt. “Huh. Hang on a minute.” She glanced at the line of cars behind Jessica’s and said, “You’re gonna have to pull down to the back door there and someone will come out and help you figure this out. We got people backed up into the street.”

  “I’m on my lunch hour. How long will it take for someone to help me?”

  Pharmacy Tech shrugged. “Soon as they can, I reckon, if they’re back from lunch. Pull on down and they’ll figure out what happened.”

  She could’ve done it. She could’ve just pulled around to the back door and waited. Dr. Hoffman would’ve understood if she was a few minutes late.

  But nope.

  “No. You’ve charged me twice for the same prescription. I’m on a budget, and I can’t afford to have my checking account charged twice because of your ineptitude.”

  “Well, now, there’s no reason to get all snotty. It ain’t my fault that I’m not used to selling these compounded prescriptions for all kinds of unorthodox treatments. People shouldn’t be trying to change their sexuality, if you ask me.”

  “What?” If she opened her eyes any wider, her eyeballs might have fallen out. “I’m pulling around and coming inside. When I get in there, I’m getting a refund. I’m also telling your boss what you just told me, you—you—”

  The drive-thru window slammed closed in her face, but she could see Pharmacy Tech talking fast to a man in a white coat who had come from behind his high counter at the back of the store.

  With hands shaking and her jaw clenched, she drove around to the front parking lot of the pharmacy, waving at the kind person who let her cut across the line for the drive-thru that was now backed up onto Main Street.

  Of course, there was also a line of customers at the counter by the window, and all the wide-eyed looks she got told her that they’d heard the entire exchange.

&nbs
p; Mr. Mosby, the pharmacist on duty and part owner of the business, beckoned to her from behind the counter at the back of the shop.

  Her expression must’ve told him something about her state of mind, going by his tremulous tone as he said, “Miss Bright, can you come back to my office?”

  He pointed at the short staircase off to the side. The wide-eyed drugstore patrons watched her as if they expected her to explode or something.

  One woman, late middle-aged with styled white hair, cast a disgruntled glance at Pharmacy Tech as she pandered sweetly to the next customer in line. The white-haired woman left her spot in the line, approached Jessica, and said, “Hold up there, Gerald Mosby.”

  A look of longsuffering crossed Mr. Mosby’s hangdog face, and in a hushed tone, he said, “Now Amelia, I know George wouldn’t have you getting involved—”

  Amelia gave him a bright smile and cocked her head. “Now, Gerald,” she said, mocking his heavily accented, condescending tone. “You and George might be lifetime members of the good ol’ boys brigade, but don’t presume to know what I should or should not do. When are you gonna hire decent staff? Or at least teach that spawn of Satan, Wilhelmina Woodworth, to use the credit card machine properly. She did the same thing to me last week when I came in for my estrogen.”

  Mr. Mosby came down the stairs and joined them on the sales floor when it was clear Jessica wasn’t going to go back into the office where they could handle the matter privately, leaving all the customers in the store to think God-only-knew-what about her prescription. Not that she cared, but she didn’t need people gossiping in a small town about her, not with a little girl and her position as one of the two optometrists in town to worry about. She didn’t need that kind of trouble, but the more pressing matter was the overcharge. Her bank account couldn’t handle that strain with payday still four days off, not if she planned to eat.

  Realization came to her suddenly, and she cast a startled look at Pharmacy Tech, who was busy whispering to the next customer in line while casting her furtive glances. “You! You’re Presley Ann McCulloch’s cousin.”

  “Shh, shh, shh,” Mr. Mosby lifted placating hands to quiet her. “Now, now—”

  Jessica rounded on him. “You would employ a woman who was an accessory in a kidnapping? I didn’t even realize that she was back in town. Do you know what she said to me just a few moments ago?”

  Mr. Mosby’s hangdog expression drooped even further as Charlene Porter, wife of the local justice of the peace, and Evelyn, bookkeeper at Stigall’s department store, joined their little group, all clustering around Jessica like a pack of ruffled mother hens.

  “She told me that you were irate about the amount you were charged for your…oh Lordy.”

  “Say it,” Jessica said in a quiet but challenging tone.

  Mr. Mosby glanced at the other women, and Jessica thought she heard one of them growl softly at him. It would’ve been funny if she hadn’t known what was about to come out of his mouth.

  “She said you were mad about being overcharged for your…sex-change cream.” He lifted his clasped hands in a semblance of prayer under his chin and whispered, “Mizz Bright, she did not hear that from me. I know what compounded testosterone creams are for and had no problem with making it for you. I swear to you on my mama’s grave that I will make this right. I’m sorry you were overcharged and that she said that—obviously in the hearing of others.”

  “Is she even a real pharmacy tech? Does she have any training at all?” Evelyn asked, giving Wilhelmina a gimlet stare.

  “No,” Amelia Owen said. “In fact, she’s the most indiscreet person you could’ve hired, and I told you so, now didn’t I, Gerald Mosby? Even George warned you that Wilhelmina is a terrible gossip and ignorant besides. Why else would she think that Miss Bright was trying to change her gender? Wilhelmina Woodworth is Grade-A ignorant is what she is.”

  “Tell him, honey,” Charlene said then fixed her attention to the poor pharmacist as the front doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of more witnesses. “The good ol’ days are gone, Gerald. If you want to keep this down home pharmacy alive, you’re going to have to get with the times. If Miss Bright wants a compounded cream to boost her libido, it’s nobody’s business but hers, and Willie just blabbered her ignorant assumption around to—”

  Evelyn nudged Charlene in the ribs. “I think they can hear you at the Dairy Queen, hon.”

  Charlene’s eyes widened as she noticed that everyone in the pharmacy was paying attention to her tirade, which had gradually grown in volume—along with Jessica’s mortification. “Oh, well, sorry. I just get irate with ignorant people and their ignorant assumptions. You go, honey,” she added with a kind smile for Jessica.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Jessica knew that voice. The masculine tone had played often enough in the few fantasies she’d had to recognize it when she heard it. She turned and spotted the handsome redheads standing just inside the front door.

  She’d thought it couldn’t get any worse.

  * * * *

  The panicked look on Jessica’s face kicked Tank’s protective urges into overdrive. He removed his cowboy hat as he and Troy flanked the group of ladies who were clustered protectively around his angel. Customers were lined up at the register and milling about the drugstore, but all eyes were on Jessica.

  Without even considering how he sounded or whether Jessica wanted him to interfere, he said, “I asked what’s going on here. Is there a problem? Do we need to call the sheriff?”

  Mr. Mosby’s eyes widened as he took a good look at the pair of them and shook his head. “No problem here, sir. Actually, this is a private matter between me and Miss Bright, regarding a prescription.” He cast a reproving glance at the older ladies standing firm with Jessica. “It’s a conversation not intended for uninvolved bystanders.”

  A white-haired lady, who he thought was somehow related to Patrick Owen, scoffed and then said, “Pfft, please. Wilhelmina over there,” she said, pointing at a beetle-eyed woman standing behind the sales counter whispering furtively to a customer, “just blasted Jessica’s private information, and her ignorant assumptions about it, all over the pharmacy in the presence of many listening ears, including my own. I’m not leaving until I know what repercussions will befall that chronic gossip.”

  Charlene Porter, the judge’s wife, nodded and firmed her lips. “Me neither. That one’s just like her mother. Wait.” She pulled her reading glasses from her nose and left them dangling by their decorative chain as she peered at him. “I know you, sir.”

  Evelyn, who knew everyone in town from her many years at Stigall’s Department Store, chuckled and winked at him. “Mr. Drummond, to answer your question—”

  “Drummond…” Mrs. Porter murmured.

  A loud squeal rang against the paneled walls, emitting from the salesclerk, who seemed to be the source of the conflict. “Ohmygawd, it’s Tank Drummond and Troy Burnett! I need a selfie!”

  Another young woman in the line snapped a picture with her cell phone and began typing into her phone.

  Here we go again.

  Hank Stinson poked his head into the front door. “Hey, Mr. Mosby, can we get this line of cars moving a bit faster? Your drive-thru is creating a traffic jam out on Main.” He noted the crowd and stepped inside. “Is everything okay in here?”

  The pharmacist flapped his hands. In his white pharmacist’s coat, he looked like an ostrich doing a mating dance. “Uh, no, everything’s fine, Sheriff. Just satisfying everybody right now. It’s under control.”

  In quick succession, Mr. Mosby continued. “Amelia, Evelyn, Charlene, you don’t have to worry about Miss Bright here. Miss Bright, I’m offering you a full refund for your purchase price, as well as what you were overcharged for today. We can call it even, then? I promise it’ll be off your debit card within the hour and…” He scurried over to the counter and snatched the red-and-white-striped prescription bag from the Pharmacy Tech according to her jacket badge, and
gently placed it in Jessica’s hands.

  A flash made Tank blink, and he looked in time to see Troy giving a grinning thumbs-up in a selfie with the young woman who had been snapping pictures earlier. The other customers looked on, attention now focused on Tank and Troy.

  Mr. Mosby continued in a soft, nervous tone to Jessica. “Right now, I need to satisfy all the customers who are waiting, both inside and outside, but I will deal with Wilhelmina personally after the rush is over with. And, Miss Bright, I do apologize and I hope that you will let me know how I can make this up to you.”

  “Refunding my money will definitely help. Training your employee—” She glanced over at Wilhelmina, and Tank followed her narrowed gaze to find that the cashier was out from behind the counter, taking pictures of him and Tank instead of waiting on customers.

  Mr. Mosby cleared his throat, and when Jessica looked his way, he whispered, “You won’t have to worry about encountering her if you visit my pharmacy again. She’s the daughter of an old school chum who I owed a favor to. I think the debt is paid.”

  Jessica sucked her full bottom lip for a second and then smiled. “There is one other thing you could do.”

  Tank was surprised that the normally stodgy Mr. Mosby agreed to Jessica’s request and said as much when they walked Jessica outside, after she’d hugged and thanked her three motherly guard dogs. “I can’t believe he agreed to captain a team in the Wheelchair Drag Race.”

  Jessica gave a short laugh. “It’s much better PR for his business and may help balance out the poor publicity he’ll get for having an employee treat a customer like that in front of the public. And I don’t give a damn if I’ve made an enemy out of Wilhelmina. I wonder if Leah and Presley Ann know their cousin is back in town.”