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Determination.
Mr. Yield, the specialist in retrieving objects taken from others to be returned to their rightful owners, was determined to take the two things that belonged to no one and make them viable in a new home. He knew what she needed and understood her fear, but she didn’t know his. Brody Johnson wasn’t lucky in love. The scar down the side of his face was proof of his misfortune, courtesy of a woman who was now his co-worker. A femme fatale with a penchant for knife play who also considered it to be foreplay before she killed a man gave him the ugly reminder Mr. Yield saw each day in the mirror.
Initially, he didn’t know who she was or that in fact she worked for the same company he did, but timing is everything. He was in the right place at the wrong time retrieving an envelope of papers from a man she aided in exiting the world in the most excruciating means possible. Having accidently watched her work from the interior of a closet, he sat quietly with baited breath as she sliced off body parts and the man screamed in agony. The scariest part was that the woman enjoyed her work so much, once the job was complete, she laid on the bed to take the time to enjoy the pleasure of her kill through self-gratification.
Enjoying the show and drawn into the action, he made the error of enjoying his release too much, which resulted in the woman locating him in the closet and nearly putting his eye out. Explaining himself, and knowing who he was, she allowed him to live, but not until she screwed him six ways to Sunday on the couch in the man’s office while the poor Devil slowly bled out.
Brody Johnson didn’t know which disturbed him more, the intensely enjoyable coupling or that he went on several more ‘dates’ with the crazy chick. No, he didn’t see himself coming home to a little woman, especially knowing how his proclivities tended to skew just a little bit west of the norm. Millicent seemed normal. Sharing a life with her didn’t seem fair to either her or the kid. What he planned to do was best for them all.
Chad asked, “Mr. Brody? Are we going to your house now?”
“No, I am taking you to meet a special man.”
Millicent bit on her bottom lip. He was going to dump them off on someone else so they would no longer be his problem. As much as it made sense, considering the Sheriff and all, she understood, but deep down inside she wanted him for her own − to be their protector. Chad deserved a strong man in his life to guide him and she deserved to go to bed at night and actually sleep.
“Is there anything we need to know before we meet this man?” she asked as he turned down a long road. Dusk began to settle around the vehicle, looming ahead on the back road where a farmhouse would pop up every fifteen miles. An ominous sensation covered the gree truck as the road dead-ended, and night dropped from the sky, changing the spot of light on the horizon to pitch black. Millicent swore under her breath as fear gripped her heart in a viselike hold, making it hard to breathe.
“Yeah, don’t make any sudden moves, speak when you are spoken to, and Chad, don’t touch shit and don’t ask for shit,” he said in a firm voice, like his father would say to him each time they went to the store. Only his father never swore or used dirty words.
The green pick-up pulled up to an old wrought iron cattle gate. A mid-sized stone farmhouse sat in the near distance with only one light shining on the front porch. Millicent didn’t want to be left here. She didn’t want to be left at all. Her desire was to be with Brody, but he’d helped them already. Asking for more of the man was simply selfish. A quick glance at his profile put butterflies in her stomach as he spoke to her and the boy.
“Chad, unbuckle and scoot towards the middle. Place your hands on the tops of the seat and keep them still,” he said to the boy. To Millicent he commanded, “Place your hands on the dashboard and leave them there until I say it’s okay to move them. You guys hear me?”
“Yes,” they said in unison as he rolled the vehicle closer to the old metal gate. The Dodge idled in drive as he pressed down on the brake, his hands on the dash. A bright white light scanned over the vehicle and from the side of his eye he could see Millicent shiver as if a tall dark man in a hooded cape had just walked over her intended grave.
“It’s just security, nothing to worry about. He is a good man, and you are safe here,” Yield tried to offer as consolation.
The squeaky metal gate creaked slowly open as Mr. Yield’s green shop drove through, coming up to a stone house with the front light on the porch, shining down, creating a spotlight on the visitors.
“Leave everything in the vehicle, but Millicent, bring your wallet,” he said. “Chad, leave the backpack.”
He provided step by step instructions to the two as they walked in a straight line to the front door, each standing at his side under the bright spotlight, which doubled a front porch lantern. He pressed the button, giving his name, “Mr. Yield.”
A loud buzzer sounded as the door popped open for them to be greeted by a fair skinned African American woman with a headful of black curly hair. The smile the woman provided was so warm he could sense Millicent’s body physically relax. Chad, less obvious, gave a loud sigh.
“Hello, I’m Cabrina Neary,” she said. “My husband is waiting for you in the kitchen. I have coffee and snacks if you are hungry.”
Millicent, not knowing what to say, reached for Cabrina and squeezed her in a big hug.
“Nice to meet you as well,” Cabrina said, hugging the lady in return. “I know the security is off-putting, but you’re safe here.”
“I would like a snack,” Chad said, getting the evil eye from Yield who already told the boy not to ask for shit. “What? I didn’t ask, she offered. I don’t want to be rude and not accept.”
He grabbed the boy by the collar of his jacket and pulled him into the kitchen, pointing at the chair for him to sit down, giving him a look to keep his mouth shut. Gabriel Neary stood by the kitchen sink, his feet casually crossed at the ankles as he observed the action a father would take with his misbehaving son. He also observed Yield pulling out a chair for the lady and asking if she cared for a cup of coffee.
“Yes, please, thank you,” she said, giving Gabriel a hesitant smile and thanking him as well.
“Mr. Yield, you have a problem on your hands,” Gabriel said observing the woman and child.
“Yeah, two of them and that small-town Boogey man,” he said, helping himself to a cup from the open shelving and pouring one for Millicent, then for himself. Cabrina provided the child with a small bottle of low sugar juice and three cookies on a saucer with a coordinating napkin. Chad, happy, thanked her as he removed his jacket.
“No, it appears that the Sheriff has a BOLO out on you and is on his way to St. Louis as we speak to convince the boy’s father to file a kidnapping charge,” Gabriel said.
“I’m sorry, how do you know this?” Millicent said, not wanting to ask who the man was.
Yield gave her the same dirty look he’d given the boy, putting his finger to his lips and scowling at her. She in return scowled back at him. This was her life they were playing with, and the idea of the two men deciding her fate wasn’t going to sit well with her. She had spent the last seven years of that under the thumb of Mike, she wasn’t ready to trade one prison for another.
“Excuse me, and I don’t mean to rude or ungrateful to the help you’re trying to provide, but I have lived for 7 years under the Sheriff’s thumb. I have no idea who you are or why we are here, so Brody, no, don’t expect me to sit quietly while me and my child’s fates are determined by some handsome man and his pretty wife,” Millicent said.
“Ahh, she thinks you’re handsome, Hubby,” Cabrina said, “but she has a point.”
Gabriel admired her spunk and her will to fight. To him, that was a good fighting position because she had one in front of her coming forward on three fronts: her child, the Sheriff, and Brody Johnson. In order for Gabriel’s solution to work, a fight on her part would be necessary to get Mr. Yield on board because as well as Gabriel knew the man, the name wasn’t given for no reason. He had no yield in him.
Brody Johnson was the epitome of a Pitbull bred with a hound dog. The man could pick up a cold trail and follow it until he found what he was looking for, but once he sank his teeth in, more than likely, he’d needed to be shot to let go of the prize. Millicent Channing was going to need that kind of steadfastness in her life.
“It’s my job to keep an eye on people and know what they are doing,” Gabriel told her. “When I got the call from Mr. Yield, I took a look at your situation. It’s not good, and if Big Mike gets the boy’s father on board, the kidnapping charge is going to haunt you.”
Millicent relaxed a bit, sighing deeply before posing the question, “What do you suggest we do?”
“Well, I have a plan,” Gabriel said, looking a Brody, who raised his eyebrows. He didn’t like how the preacher man was looking at him which also meant he was going to think the Archangel’s plan sucked ass.
“I don’t like your plan,” Brody said. “I brought them here to get her and the kid a new identity so you and your brother could put her in one of them houses you redo and give them a new life.”
“Easier said than done,” Gabriel said. “I can’t give her a new life until the old one is taken care of...your job is to retrieve items, you don’t do cancellations. This Sheriff wants this woman and he is tearing up Wentzville to find any information on you and her. The BOLO was on your black truck. I see you were smart and changed vehicles, but we have to go a lot deeper and fast.”
“New identities?” Millicent asked. “I have money in the bank...for us to start over. I’ve been saving every penny I could get my hands on for the last seven years.”
“Sorry, Ms. Channing, but you can consider that money gone,” Gabriel said. “Although it is a nice chunk of change, the Sheriff has put a tracker on the account, meaning the moment you walk into a bank or use your ATM card, he knows where you are and you will be detained until he comes and retrieves you.”
“What?” she said, her bottom lip trembling.
“Like I said, I have a plan,” Gabriel offered.
“Dear God, will this nightmare never end?” she asked, placing her face in the palms of her hands.
Gabriel stepped forward. He placed a warm palm on her shoulder. “He has heard your cries.”
“I hope He heard mine, too, because I don’t like where you’re going with this,” Yield said.
“Where is he going?” Chad wanted to know as he munched on cookies, eyeballing the tray of others he also wanted to eat. “Are we going with you?”
“If he accepts my plan, you will be,” Gabriel said with a smile. “Ms. Channing, the first thing we need to do is get on the phone with the boy’s father. Convince him you are going to give the boy a better life and get him to verbally agree on the phone to allow young Chad here to be adopted by Brody.”
“What?” Brody said sitting up, the jagged scar on his face almost making a straight line as his lip hung low.
“Excuse me?” Millicent said, looking dumbfounded.
“Yay, Mr. Brody is going to be my Daddy,” Chad said. “Can I have another cookie? These are yummy.”
“No more cookies for you, Chad, and wait, what? Why would I want to adopt the boy?” Yield asked.
“Because you are going to marry his Mom,” Gabriel said with a smile.
“Wait...what? Oh hell no!” Yield said, getting to his feet. “I stopped to get a bowl of grits, three crispy strips of bacon, and a cup of coffee. My leg hurts from being shot and my back hurts from sleepy on her lumpy ass couch last night. I just want to go home.”
“That’s fine, but they don’t have a home to go to, and no matter where she goes, that man is going to hunt her down and drag her back to Wentzville,” Gabriel said. “Unless she is married to someone else who has adopted the boy.”
“And what if I’m not on board with this little plan of yours?” Brody inquired.
“Doesn’t matter,” Gabriel said. “You took what the Sheriff considers to be his. He will come for you simply because you made him look bad. He is coming for her and the boy because that’s who he is. You stand a better chance defending your wife and child than putting down a rabid dog who walks in your house trying to bite you.”
Yield frowned, getting up from the table. This wasn’t in his plan. All he wanted was a damned bowl of grits, a cup of coffee, and some fucking bacon. Now, Gabriel was pushing him to marry this woman and to take on a child. The room seemed to spin and warmth crept up his spine.
I need to get out of here.
I gotta get some air.
I can’t breathe.
“Excuse me,” he said, going out the back door to catch his breath. Every eye in the room watched him walk out the back door as Millicent sat staring at his back. He didn’t want them. The one man that she’d hoped would save them had done his part and gotten she and Chad free. Tears welled in her eyes as Chad looked at his mother. The kid wanted Brody as his father as well, but he was only a kid. No one ever listened to kids. It didn’t seem like Brody was listening to the adults either, but he wanted his mother to try.
Millicent had tried to reel Mr. Yield in with her body, which he refused. She tried to be a helpmate by assisting him in changing vehicles, took care of his leg, shared the load on the cost, and drive over the road. She didn’t know what else to try. Gabriel noticed the slumping of her shoulders. Again, he placed his hand on the top of her arm, hoping to provide an invisible strength to fortify her for what needed to come next.
“Call the boy’s father first, then go outside and state your case on why it would work between you,” Gabriel said, handing Millicent his phone. “It will work, but you have to make him understand how and why you and the boy need him. If you can convince Brody, I will take care of the rest.”
Her hands trembled as she took the phone from Gabriel and made the call to Jebbie. Once before she had convinced the Sheriff’s brother to be her partner in crime to protect her, but her body had been the prize for him. Brody Johnson had no soft spots she could use to make him yield, or give in. The tears she refused to shed flooded her eyes as Jebbie’s voice came through the line.
“Jebbie, it’s me,” Millicent said.
****
MIKE COLTON PULLED into the driveway surrounded by the well-manicured lawn of Oswald Pennington, who was loading his grandson into the back of a van. He never liked the old man nor the rich old fucker’s meth sucking, green toothed grandson. It was the sort of people the boy hung around with that caused trouble in his town. The old man was a symptom of issues with the young kids who had no direction. People like him gave their children everything but their time and a moral compass in which to navigate life. He used his money to set the standards for right and wrong as far as his wallet could push the boundaries. In his mind, hiring Brody Johnson had been a wrong and pushed against a boundary that crossed his line of comfort.
“Sheriff,” Oswald said to the tall man, “how can I help you?”
“I’m here about Brody Johnson, the man you hired,” Sheriff Colton said.
“Who?”
“Big white guy, deep tan, dark hair, with a scar down his face. He said he worked for you,” the Sheriff said, hoping the man was lying so he could hunt him down like the sneaky, woman stealing dog he was.
“Oh Brody,” Oswald said, although he didn’t know the man by name. “Yes, I hired him to help me with a family issue.”
“He around?”
“He doesn’t reside here, Sheriff,” Oswald said, offended by such a thought. However, it was obvious the man had done something to piss off the lawman, which in his book was easy to do, but this Brody, if that was his real name had given him sage advice. Following his instructions, he located his grandson, Luther, who was close to smoking enough meth to permanently fry his brain, and got the boy home. Today, Luther was being transported to the facility the man recommended Oswald use in Colorado.
“Do you know where I can find him, like does he work in the tool shed, your greenhouse, for your company?” she Sheriff asked.
“What is this about Sheriff? Has Brody committed a crime?” Oswald asked, knowing it would anger Mike Colton to be questioned. He hoped it would make him lower his guard and divulge the real reason behind looking for the scary looking man who returned his grandfather’s watch.
“Mr. Pennington,” Sheriff Brody said, taking a deep breath. “He told me he worked for you. He was last seen at Millicent’s with my nephew and now they are missing.”
“Missing? You don’t say,” Oswald said, getting a feeling a joy coming through him with the idea of the scar-faced man helping the woman and boy get away from the Sheriff. “Did you check with her neighbor? I’m sure in that area those people would know if there was anything suspicious happening.”
“I did, Mr. Pennington. She told them they were getting away for the Christmas holidays,” the Sheriff said, getting beet red in the face.
Oswald loved it. He enjoyed it so much, he took his time to answer, remembering hearing a tinge of Midwestern accent in the man’s voice when he brought back the watch. Whoever he was had done him two favors—brought back the antique watch and helped save his grandson—and now he was helping Millicent get away from the Sheriff. All of the years in the town and no one ever came to her aid. His days of sitting back and doing nothing to help his fellow man were over. Today, he would help her and the big guy who did him two solids.
“Sheriff, Brody is on vacation until after the New Year,” Oswald lied. “I don’t ask my employees about their plans for Christmas. It is unseemly.”
“Thanks for your help,” the Sheriff added, angrier now than he’d ever been. As a last-ditch effort, he needed to go see his idiot brother. He had to get that ass wipe to call in a missing person report so he could sic the dogs on that rough looking fucker and bring home his woman.
He sped out of the driveway, intentionally burning rubber and marking the white paved drive of the Pennington home. His dick was hard as rock, fantasizing about all the ways he planned to fuck some sense into Millicent’s head. The idea of her crying, pleading, begging for him to give her a break from the pounding he planned to put on her puss nearly made him pull over to the side of the road to rub one out.
First, he needed to go and pound on his rockheaded brother.
