Chapter 7 Fred
FRED
This place really was a dump. The place reeked of stale beer and cigarette smoke, not to mention the apathy of two grown men who had no idea how to run the family business.
I mean it wasn’t as bad as the four-by-four prison cell I’d lived in for the last four years, but it wasn’t what I was expecting.
I’d worked hard and even sacrificed four years of my life behind bars.
After all that, a man like me shouldn’t still be living in the same house he grew up in on the wrong side of town. Neither should my brothers.
I turned to Charlie. “Four years. I rot in a cell and sacrificed my family for four years of my life to protect you assholes, just to find out everything fell apart when dad died.” I leaned back in the recliner that once belonged to my father.
The sticky vinyl creaked as I made myself comfortable.
“What the fuck have you two been up to?”
“While Dad was alive he ran things.” Charlie was the most innocent of the three of us.
“He kept everything close to his vest. He was afraid that we would end up in prison like you. Then the county took forever to hand over his body and conclude their investigation. We were being investigated while we grieved our father.”
What a crock of shit. My father only cared that he never got caught. “Yeah, well at least you got to say goodbye to him.”
Yet another thing I would get my revenge for.
I turned to Keith, the middle child and the one who my father was closest to. “Did you even try?”
Keith handed me a beer and slouched into the sofa that had once been a bright floral.
“Of course, I did. After you left, he closed ranks. He didn’t want anyone touching his business.
Was pissed off you had signed those divorce papers and that custody agreement.
Those kids are Rippers and we never got to even see them. ”
That was something I intended to fix. According to my lawyer I needed to petition for supervized visits first. Fuck that bullshit.
Those kids were mine. “She threatened to tell the authorities everything she knew. Is that what dad wanted?” I knew the answer.
My dad was not good at covering his tracks.
“I don’t have my kids because dad didn’t know the definition of discreet and somehow that’s my fault? ”
Keith frowned at me. “She had nothing on us. All she saw were some of your meetings. You said she never overheard the conversations.”
I shook my head because that was not exactly true.
I remembered that conversation the one and only time she visited.
The little bitch was defiant as she laid out the terms. She didn’t know a lot, but enough to launch an investigation.
I shook my head and focused on my other problem.
“She’s not living in the apartment. According to the landlord she moved out before the lease was even up. ”
Charlie nodded. “She’s living at Forte Femme.”
God, that ridiculous name. “With a bunch of women?”
“No.” Keith shook his head. “I think it's just her and the kids. And that rich bitch. Snow’s sister. Brittany or Stephanie or something.”
“She’s living with Tiffany Snow?” My life just got easier. I could get my wife back and off the sister of that asshole in one go. “You guys ever heard any rumors about someone called The Rival?”
Keith frowned at me and shook his head. “He a player?”
“Yes. But I’m not sure what his deal is. I don’t think he’s a dealer or a buyer.” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to let them know he’d been the one to send me the video footage. “Just a name I heard while I was inside. Apparently, great with intel.”
That part I believed considering the video footage which arrived in my inbox a week before I was released. I had to consider who would send it to me and why. Someone wanted Theo Snow out of the way and they wanted me to do it.
I was nobody’s lackey. As much as I intended to get my revenge on that asshole. First, I wanted my wife and children back. I didn’t care about the divorce papers or the custody agreement. They were mine. And I intended to make Maggie suffer for taking all that away from me.
In all the time that we were together, not once had I hit her.
Not that she didn’t deserve it, but she had the kind of family that would’ve interfered if they saw so much as a scratch on her.
And I never could keep her away from that bunch of do gooders.
That was one of the first things I intended to change.
But first I needed to get to her. I needed to make her scared. A plan formed. I darted a look between my brothers. “Where is the safe with the shotguns?”
They shared a look and I clenched my fists.
Keith narrowed his eyes on me. “Fred, you cannot be caught with a weapon. We cannot risk this house being raided. Besides the stash being confiscated. You’ll go back to prison and we’ll be joining you.”
Fucking pussies. “We won’t get caught. No one raises a brow at a gunshot in this neighborhood. All I want is to go out back and shoot a pigeon or something. It's been so long since I’ve shot something.”
Keith stood and took his keys from the dish at the door. He pulled off one key and tossed it to me. “You know where the safe is. Let’s not pretend you’ve forgotten.”
I caught the key and walked to my dad’s old bedroom that Keith was now using.
I slipped into his closet and moved the clothes at the back.
The steel door was a little more chipped than I remembered but otherwise undamaged.
The lock snicked open and I entered the code.
One, Two, Three, Four. Fucking idiots didn’t even change the code after dad died.
I looked among the small stash we kept in the house.
It was nothing compared to what we had in the container outback but it was useful.
My fingers teased over the fancy assault rifles and the newer pistols.
I couldn’t wait to see how those babies operated.
But all of them were too fancy for what I needed.
Finally, I spotted my dad’s shotgun. It was old and had been handed down from my grandfather, but it would serve the purpose for the first step in getting my family back.
I pulled it off the grips that kept it in place. My palms fit perfectly around it. I held it up and took aim. “Yup. You’re exactly what I need.”
Opening the little drawer at the bottom of the safe, I scratched through it. Patience was not my strong suit. Especially when I could see my plan taking shape.
Slowly, and thoughtfully I loaded the shotgun.
I wish I could see her face when she found my little gift.
I closed my eyes, smiling as the image filled my mind.
She’d be excited to open the package, but that would soon turn to terror and her pretty mouth would let out a scream.
She’d see the bird and know it was me. I’d even include a note.
She’d know but there would be no way to prove it.
She’d know she was in danger, but wouldn’t get any help because the package would not be traced back to me.
There was some joy to be found when the cops showed up and told her there was nothing they could do. Maybe she would even be at the door when that happened and I would be able to catch a glimpse of her face. Yes. That would need to be enough.
I walked though the house holding the rifle at my side as I went.
Keith was back in the kitchen, probably making another fucking sandwich. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I told you.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him. “I’m going to shoot a pigeon. Not that I need to answer to you.”
“Fred —”
“What? Are you going to snitch to my parole officer?” I didn’t see why he was giving me such a hard time.
He glared at me and plated the sandwich. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just don’t want you to attract too much attention.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I stepped to the back door. “You worry about yourself and how you intend to make sure that new deal goes down. If you can’t make it happen, then I will.”
I stepped onto the back porch and watched as flocks of birds flew overhead.
My dad had taught us to shoot from this very spot.
Birds, the occasional rodent. Once or twice our aim was even good enough to get a little field mouse.
Never dogs or cats. Not that I think my dad had any affection for them, but according to my dad, killing people’s pets attracted the wrong kind of attention.
I readied myself. Sitting in the white plastic patio chair that hadn’t been there before I went to prison. But long enough to have yellowed in places. I took aim and waited. And waited.
When a small flock of gray birds flew in from the ocean, I was ready. I steadied myself and took aim in the one right at the back. One, two. Fire. The bird dropped but not directly down. I put the shotgun down next to the back door and quickly made my way to the front of the house.
“And there she is.” Who knew if the thing was male or female. What was important was that those wings were not flapping. I picked the bird up and took it inside. I placed it on the coffee table in the living room.
Charlie still sat watching his soap opera mouth open as he stared at the TV and then at Keith walking out of the kitchen with two plated sandwiches. Well, at least one of them was useful. When it came to the family business? Useless. I would need to get things done myself.
“Where do you keep the shipping boxes? I need a small one.”
“There’s one from a delivery this morning in the kitchen.” My youngest brother frowned down at the dead animal. “What are you doing?”
“Getting my wife back.” I walked through to the kitchen and picked up the box ignoring him and his sandwich.
Charlie frowned at me as I walked back into the living room. “And she’s into dead birds?”
I had no intention of explaining the helpless bird metaphor to him. “I am sending her a message.”
I dug into the dresser drawer underneath the TV.
“Fuck dude.” My brother’s whine was nothing more than an annoyance. “I’m trying to watch.”
“Oh, like you’re going to miss so much from the ten seconds it takes me to get a pair of gloves.”
Another rule my father taught us. You deal with weapons, you keep gloves handy.
I wiped all over the box to make sure that any prints already on it had been smeared sufficiently. I stuffed the bird inside.
I opened Keith’s laptop and found the word processing program. I typed out the little message to my wife and sent it to the wifi printer before I printed out her name.
As I was sticking the name to the outside of the box, Keith walked into the living room with a stack of papers. “When you’re done delivering your late Valentines gift. We need to go over these orders.”
I snorted and nodded before heading out to the car. It was just after three on a Thursday. She wouldn’t be at the bar until later. She might be out picking up Hayden or she could be home already. I would need to be sneaky.
Marina De Ferrier hadn’t changed much in the four years I was away.
There was still an ordinance against having CCTV cameras in public spaces.
That worked out fine for me. Also, rumor had always been that the residents of Forte Femme were were not big on exaggerated security measures.
Both of those things played into my hands.
I parked at the end of the street and walked up to the house slowly. If anyone saw me, I needed a good reason to be in the area. I had no doubt my wife was waiting for an opportunity to file a restraining order. There was no way I would ever allow that.
When I was a few houses away I scanned the street. All the houses appeared to be locked up. No cars in the driveway. As quickly as possible, I dropped off the box and made my way back to my car.
And waited.