This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Copyright © by Ashley Fontainne 2015
Publisher: RMSW Press, LLC
ISBN-13: 978-0692410578
ISBN-10: 0692410570
Cover and interior design: Ashley Fontainne
Photo credit: Nicholas Raymond www.freestock.ca
Visit Ashley’s website and sign up for her newsletter to receive a free book of your choice here
Follow Ashley on Twitter @AshleyFontainne
For Junior and Ruth
Contents
Dedication
1. The Delivery
2. A New Adventure
3. Memories of the Past
4. The Trip
5. Becoming a Pawn
6. Welcome to the South
7. Family Reunion
8. First Day on the Farm
9. The Decision
10. The Majestic Magnolia House
11. Mending Broken Fences
12. Deep Inside the Industry
13. Learning from Past Mistakes
14. The End of Ray-Ray
15. Breaking out of Prison
16. Under the Spell of The Magnolia
17. Adventures in the Woods
18. Time to Rebuild
19. First Steps
20. First Date Jitters
21. Planning the End
22. The Investigation
23. Digging Deeper
24. The Perils of Coffee
25. Final Choices
26. Stormy Weather
27. Into the Devil's Lair
28. On Pins and Needles
29. Bam. Over. Done.
30. The Truth Unfolds
31. Goodbye, Sweet Romella
32. The World Explodes
33. The Thunder Rolls
34. Prey becomes Predator
35. Vacation - Over
36. Into the Heat of the Night
37. Fighting Back
38. Internal Radar
39. One and Done
About the authors
Coming soon
Author's Note
Other Books by Author
1
The Delivery
“You ain’t your own man, Lucas Hill. Your ass is owned by another. Just his bitch to jump when he snaps those meaty fingers and points,” he grumbled. It took all of his concentration to keep his foot steady on the accelerator and the truck hovering at the speed limit. Irritated, he clenched his jaw hard. The sound of his teeth grinding filled up the entire cab. Lucas was still pissed off he was out doing this in the middle of the frigging night. His eyes were bloodshot. Lack of sleep and staring at the dark highway for the last three hours made them feel like he’d poured salt into them.
Swirling another mint around in his mouth, he hoped it hid the smell of the three beers from earlier. He didn’t even want to think what would happen if he got pulled over. With his luck, it would be for something like speeding, not waiting the full three seconds at a stop sign, or not using his turn signal before changing lanes. Blinking twice, he made sure to keep the truck in between the white lines. All or any of the minor screw ups would put him in the middle of a shit storm for sure. Lucas had no desire to make headline news like other runners from committing some stupid traffic infraction. Jail time for drug running was stout enough, but he shuddered at the thought of what his sentence would be if some nosy pig poked his face inside the cooler and got the shock of his cop life viewing its contents.
A shiver of panic traveled down his spine, and Lucas gripped the steering wheel of the inconspicuous black Dodge truck with a bit more force. While chewing on the well-worn spot on his bottom lip, he double-checked the side and rearview mirrors. Nope, he was safe. No blue lights behind him and no strange vehicles following either. Normal, sane people who lived normal, sane lives weren’t out at three o’clock in the morning. He let go of his crushed lip when the nasty rust taste hit him.
“Damn, another piece of my flesh offered to him. Damn!” he muttered after swallowing the droplets of his own blood.
Lucas didn’t fear much in this world, especially not the frigging police or even a stint behind bars. He could handle both with ease. And it wasn’t like he sought out trouble; it just seemed to come to him. Like a damned homing pigeon or boomerang—it kept landing right on his lap, no matter how hard he tried to stay on the straight and narrow. His last six-month stint in Lafayette County, Tennessee, had been a walk in the park.
A brawl with the bouncer at Gigi’s Strip-n-Tip landed him in the slammer after he got too friendly with a damned stripper. What a joke. How were you not supposed to touch all that flesh when it was in your face? When it was all said and done, Lucas was convicted of battery after the dust-up with the bouncer. Lucas had some bruises, but the bouncer suffered a broken nose and was missing two front teeth.
Time spent in county lock-ups was a breeze compared to doing hard time like his old man down in Tucker. The sorry excuse of a father would die behind the concrete walls of the maximum security prison.
Lucas’ minor run-ins with the fat, slow, and lazy cops of the Southeast were as easy to handle as banging a virgin. Slip in, slip out, and leave a slight stain of blood behind as a reminder you were there.
He didn’t fear the police, the court system, the frigging President of the United States. Not even God himself. There was only one person who set his guts on fire and turned his blood cold. The cold-hearted devil with black eyes and no heart ruled his life—and the lives of others—with an iron fist.
Lucas feared the man enough not to even think his name inside his head, much less speak it out loud. If he made some asinine mistake tonight, and the contents of the cooler resting on the passenger floorboard were discovered, he was a dead man.
No doubt. Dead, dead, deadski. Then someone else would be delivering his organs in the middle of the night to some sick, rich douchebag with enough cash to pay for new body parts on the black market.
Lucas squinted through the dirty windshield, looking for the blue Hospital sign. He’d double checked everything on the frigging truck but the windshield washer fluid levels. Who was the dumbshit that prepped the truck for this run? If he found out, introductions would be done properly—with a fist to the face.
“Get a frigging grip, man, this is your twentieth delivery and you’ve never had a problem.” Still, Lucas knew he couldn’t let his guard down until the package was in the hands of the buyers.
And the Devil was off his ass.
“What the hell was I thinking getting involved with Ray-Ray? Dumb spoiled little rich prick.” The moment he met Ray-Ray in tenth grade, he knew the dude was trouble with a capital T. But Ray-Ray had access to the life Lucas wanted—girls, drugs, and hot cars.
Lucas popped another strong mint into his mouth. Sucking in a mouthful of air between his teeth, he let the potent vapor rush to clear his head and focus his driving. His life had been the total opposite of Ray-Rays. His mom struggled to put food on the table and keep the lights on in their small apartment. Clothes came from second-hand stores, and it wa
s a rarity if they fit. Or lasted longer than a few weeks. His piece of shit, no-good father hadn’t been around since Lucas was a sperm stain on his mom’s panties.
Now here he was stuck in a situation because Ray-Ray had gotten his brains blasted out of his head two days ago by his ex-old-lady’s jealous boyfriend.
Right now, Lucas wanted to turn the clock back two years and drink three more Jack-n-Cokes so he would have passed out on Ray-Ray’s couch. If he had, he would never have ridden with him to “make a delivery for some quick cash” as Ray-Ray called it.
“Five hundred bucks? For just ridin’ shotgun? What you deliverin’, Ray-Ray? Gold dust?”
“Nah, man. Just a one-of-a-kind piece for my uncle. That’s all you need to know. You just watch our tail, got it?” Ray-Ray had said.
Then Ray-Ray had sealed his fate by telling the Devil about him. Lucas had been the one who noticed something wasn’t right about the setup. No sooner had they driven past the designated point, the cops swarmed the parking lot like a horde of ravenous locusts. Ray-Ray and Lucas watched the entire scene from across the street at the Waffle House after they hid the truck in the back parking lot. They tried to act casual when they sat down at the counter and ordered coffee, but their hands shook with fear.
The Devil was impressed with Lucas’s skills. So much so, that the job of runner was pulled from Ray-Ray. Lucas was forced to watch as the Devil’s enforcer beat Ray-Ray unconscious for including a stranger in the run and the loss of the expensive package. Neither of them said a word of protest when their sentences were handed down. Lucas’s street survival instincts lit up like a Christmas tree when he was in the presence of the Devil. After witnessing what the man was capable of doing to his own flesh and blood, Lucas knew better than to question his orders.
And now, at age twenty-five, Lucas was stuck in a job he didn’t want with no escape route in sight. He assumed he was hauling drugs. But on his second delivery, Lucas lifted the lid of the cooler.
It wasn’t drugs. Inside the slushy mess of ice, was a heart and lungs. He puked for ten minutes. After the shock of that sick vision, he made sure never to open the lid again.
Though Lucas hated shuttling the cold body parts he had grown quite fond of the cash his deliveries put in his pocket. Ten thousand dollars a pop. Unfortunately, his wallet was running on fumes after being behind bars for so many months. When he was released from jail, he went back home and tried to find a legitimate job. He hoped his time away would have given the Devil a good reason to find another runner, but it didn’t work. It was the beginning of his third week out of the joint, and he had celebrated his newfound freedom and the lack of contact from the Devil with a few beers while watching a basketball game on television. But his brief taste of freedom ended with a phone call around midnight.
Lucas pulled his head out of the memory. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand. No mistakes. The moon was hidden by a thick blanket of rain clouds. The streetlights were a joke. Why in the hell would someone want to live in this backwoods, redneck city? For Christ’s sake, the streetlights were no better than a flashlight with a low battery. He wished the sky would open up and let the rain out, but then he wondered if the frigging wipers worked.
A flashing yellow sign ahead beckoned him to Fill your tank and your belly! There was plenty of time to stop and refuel, and he needed to hit the head. Thinking about his boss made the beer and coffee run through him.
Pulling off the main highway, the faint neon green from the old truck’s dashboard cast an eerie glow on the white cooler. Once he pulled up to the pump and cut the engine, he yanked off his jacket and tossed it over the cooler.
He reached over and pulled on the black ball cap down low over his forehead. The brown wig attached underneath made his neck itch but he ignored the urge to take it off. Protocol needed to be followed, to the letter, every time. No paper trail was to be left behind. No cell phones, GPS, or anything electronic were to be used during the delivery process. Even the old Dodge he was driving didn’t have the fancy tracking equipment of the newer vehicles available. A different disguise was to be used each time and was provided, along with the cash for gas and instructions, under the front seat. The ancient, black rust-bucket was always parked in the same spot each time—at the back end of the funeral home, hidden behind the storage shed under an old tarp. Instructions and cash were taped underneath the seat. The call came in, Lucas went to the truck, and the game began.
Stepping out of the truck and into the sweltering heat of the Tennessee evening, Lucas shot a final glance over the floorboard to make sure the cooler was well hidden. Satisfied, he pushed the lock down and headed into the store.
Lucas couldn’t shake the sensation that Ray-Ray was riding with him. Well, at least part of him. After all, it wasn’t like Ray-Ray’s uncle to let any body part go to waste.
There had been an additional note tonight. A handwritten one that made him cold despite the heat.
Glad you are back. Stop getting into trouble and keep your nose clean. I’m watching you and don’t want to hear any more news about my favorite courier locked up behind bars. Because if it happens again, there won’t be enough of you left to fill a Ziploc baggie. Got it?
Lucas got it. Loud and clear. As he walked to the counter and paid for his gas, he thought about the line from a movie in his youth. You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?
Yes, yes he had. He wanted nothing more than to get off the dance floor and never waltz again. But the Devil owned his dance card. Lucas was so dizzy from all the spinning, he knew he was stuck in the tight embrace of the bloodthirsty leader’s arms.
2
A New Adventure
“You sure I can’t talk you out of this?”
Karina Summers shook a loose strand of black hair from her face and looked up from the empty desk. Her former business partner, Calvin “Cal” Benson, leaned his buff body with casual ease against the doorframe. His dark brown eyes shimmered with a teasing gleam, but Karina swore she saw a small hint of sadness behind them.
The early morning sun streamed through the window and caught the silver streaks in Cal’s hair, making him look even more appealing. With his arms crossed over his chest, Cal’s enormous biceps bulged, stretching the thin cotton material to its limit. The tattoo of two arms locked at the wrists with silver handcuffs, and the words Gotcha in black underneath, seemed to quiver.
“Cal, how many times are you going to ask me the same question?”
“Until I get the answer I want.”
Picking up the last box off the top of the desk, she gave him a weak smile. “You’re as tenacious as a pit bull. That’s what I used to love about you. But remember, my bite is just as strong.” Karina watched Cal’s tattoo quiver as his muscles tensed.
“Yeah, I know. I have the marks to prove it.” A smirk crossed Cal’s full lips. “But don’t try to change the subject. I can’t be swayed by your seductive charms. I’m immune.”
Karina used the box like a shield, nudging Cal out of the way. Their hot and heavy romance of seven years ended during her undercover stint nearly two years ago. She ignored the urge to tackle him and shred all that terribly restrictive clothing off his smokin’ body. Cal’s scent always drove Karina wild.
She learned after their breakup to keep her physical distance and let running their business be the only thing between them. They worked much better as a team on paper rather than between the sheets. “Once bitten, twice shy baby.” Karina made it past him and out into the hallway. “Now, be a gentleman and open the door for me? This is my last box.”
The sound of Cal’s heavy boots reverberated off the hardwood floors as he came up behind her. The energy of his stare sent waves of heat up her back. Karina’s mouth went dry. His steps matched her heartbeat in intensity.
“Hmmm. You really do need a break. You just called me a gentleman. That’s a first.”
“See? Told you,” Karina retorted, her smile real this time. “A term
I’m sure you’re unaccustomed to hearing when said in reference to you.”
Karina slipped past his six foot three frame, out the back door and into the bright light. Final goodbyes had already been said to the rest of the gang. Without any sunglasses, the yellow glare of the vibrant sun and the shimmer of heat from the blacktop made her eyes water.
Damn—Cal will think they are for him.
The thought made Karina move at a quicker pace toward her car. She wasn’t about to let Cal think he’d gotten to her. Karina knew this was the right decision for her life. Cal had been shocked when she approached him two weeks prior with the papers to buy out her share of their successful private investigation firm, We’ve Got Ya! When he asked her why she wanted to sell and she told him, Cal questioned her sanity. After the large payout from their biggest—and longest—investigation yet, Karina needed more than a break. She needed a new direction and a new life.
Karina had enough cash to live off of for at least five years, long enough to figure out what she should do with the rest of her life. At the moment, fresh, smog-free air and a slower pace is what she craved. The life she had been living almost drove her to the brink of insanity. After two years of undercover work and then another year of sitting through the gut-wrenching court trial, Karina couldn’t get out of Los Angeles fast enough.
It was a struggle to retrieve her keys out of the front pocket of her jeans. Karina cursed under her breath, regretting her choice of skin tight denim. She should have just thrown on a pair of sweats, left her hair in a messy bun, and came in without a stitch of makeup on. Her last day at work would go down in history. No employee of We’ve Got Ya! had ever seen Karina sans makeup, except Cal. It would give the rest of the remaining staff plenty to gab about for the next few days.
Blood Ties_A Magnolia Novel Page 1