Drop Dead Sexy

“Felicia Brown.”

I groaned. The unfeeling widow whose sons’ antics had led to all the craziness last week. “You have got to be joking.”

“She’s saying we’re charging her for things she didn’t agree to.”

“Patch her through,” I muttered. When the phone beeped, I said, “Hello, Mrs. Brown. What seems to be the problem?”

I spent the next ten minutes arguing with Mrs. Brown and defending my business tactics. Finally, I’d had enough. “Look, I’m not going to discuss this with you anymore. Either you pay the bill, or I’ll see you in small claims court.” When she started arguing with me again, I shouted, “Bye, Felicia!” into the phone before hanging up.

“What a bitch,” I grumbled as I tossed my phone into my purse. I threw a glance in the backseat to see Motown snoring away. “Figures. You sleep through everything, including me yelling at a cunt-bag,” I mused.

When I opened the car door to go join Catcher, Motown raised his head. “Stay, boy. I’ll be right back.” He yawned and then lay back down.

As I made my way across the yard, I was surprised I didn’t see or hear Olive’s hound dogs like I had the other day. They were probably off chasing squirrels in the woods. I climbed the steps and made my way across the porch. When I knocked on the front door, it creaked open. “Catcher? Olive?”

After pushing the door wide, I saw the living room and kitchen were empty. I stepped inside. “Hellloooo?”

“Well hello.”

The sound of a strange and incredibly creepy voice had me whirling around. A heavyset man in a red and white checked flannel shirt stood blocking the front door. I swallowed the rising panic down in my throat at the sight of Creepy Voice.

Oh shit. Oh shitty-shit-SHIT! This was so bad. My gaze bounced around the room, desperately searching for any sign of Catcher. Although I should’ve been concerned about Olive’s whereabouts too, Catcher was the one with a gun and hand-to-hand combat training.

Slowly, I started inching toward the back door. If I could just get outside, I might have a chance to get away. I’d been a half-way decent runner back in the day when I ran track in high school. But then I bumped into something warm and fleshy. When I spun around, an overweight man in a John Deere hat grunted at me. The next thing I knew he pointed a shotgun at me. “Let’s go.”

John Deere grabbed my arm and dragged me down the porch steps. My heart was beating so frantically that I was afraid it was going to explode right out of my chest. Fear had me almost paralyzed. I would’ve been frozen in place if I hadn’t been forced along by the burly redneck.

When he shoved me toward the hillside, I momentarily faltered. Nothing good could come from going up there. John Deere and Creepy Voice were either going to take me into the woods and rape and kill me, or they were going to take me into the work shed and rape and kill me.

I didn’t want to die. Not now. Not after I’d finally found a man to love and have hot sex with. That would just be entirely too cruel.

John Deere jabbed the shotgun into my back. “Move it.”

Tears welled in my eyes. “Please don’t kill me,” I whimpered.

“That ain’t up to us. Ronald will make the decision on that one,” Creepy Voice said.

Oh God. There could only be one Ronald he was talking about. The one who had shot Randy and poisoned Mr. Delaney. Swallowing hard, I pushed my trembling legs forward. Somehow I found the strength to make it up the hillside. John Deere escorted me into the work shed. What I saw before me brought fresh tears to my eyes.

It was Catcher, and thankfully, he was alive. Of course, it was an epic bummer that his wrists were bound by rope, and his arms were tied over his head to one of the wooden beams in the middle of the room. His eyes widened at the sight of me. “I’m sorry, Liv,” he lamented.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have never asked you to come along today.”

I shook my head. “You couldn’t have possibly known a simple trip to Olive’s would be dangerous.”

“Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Creepy Voice crossed the room and smacked Catcher across the face. “Shut yer yappin’!”

Catcher gritted his teeth while venom burned in his eyes. John Deere dragged me over to the beam. He shoved me down on the floor. Creepy Voice tossed him some rope, which he used to tie my wrists and ankles together. Unlike Catcher, he didn’t tie me to be beam. Of course, considering how I was trussed up, it wasn’t like I was going to be able to run anywhere.