Dayanara
Lying between my two men, I soaked in their relaxed faces.
They’d tried to act like things were okay, despite being shot at by someone.
I knew everyone assumed it was Marshall.
Hell, I did, too. However, when they came out of church on Saturday, the vibe they gave off made it clear they knew something.
I waited for them to tell me what it was.
I asked later that night, after their dart game, if there had been any news.
Stalker, Predator, and Stryder all said no, except that they thought it had to be Marshall.
They asked me if there was any chance, through my work, that someone was upset enough with me to shoot at us. I thought about it, then had to shake my head. There wasn’t anyone that came to mind, but if I thought of someone, I’d let them know.
My gut told me they were holding back. I could’ve pestered, but I decided to wait. If they didn’t confess to me within the week, I’d have to make a point. They wouldn’t like it.
It was Monday morning. Today was the day we’d see whether Marshall showed up for his PO appointment.
If he didn’t, my understanding was that missing an appointment was considered a technical violation in Tennessee, rather than a more serious new offense.
The parole board would then decide whether to impose what they called sanctions on him.
Those could be additional supervision requirements, placement in a mandatory program, or imposing a curfew.
However, if the technical violation was severe enough, which I assumed missing multiple appointments with your PO and disappearing would qualify as severe, he could go back to prison to resume finishing out his original sentence.
None of those were desired in this case.
We wanted him to be easy to make disappear for good.
However, to do it, we had to find him. I went to roll over, forgetting my wound.
A tiny hiss of pain escaped my lips before I muffled it.
Instantly, Stalker was awake, and then I heard Predator’s sleepy voice behind me.
“What’s wrong? You need something?” he asked.
“I was trying to roll over, but since you’re awake. I’d like to get up and use the bathroom. I can’t stand to lie here another moment.”
Stalker rolled over and got off the bed. He reached for me, no doubt to pick me up, but I held up my hand.
“I’ve got it, honey. I’ve got to stop having you and Predator do everything for me. I’ll get lazy,” I told them that as I eased my body to the point I could push up into a seated position.
“Yeah, like that’ll ever happen. You push yourself. Enjoy us pampering you,” Predator said. He was up on his feet.
I worked not to get distracted by their amazing bodies.
They wore underwear, but getting hot and bothered wouldn’t get me sex, something I wanted even if I was in pain.
I was lucky I talked them into sleeping in the same bed.
Friday night, they argued they were staying in the third bedroom so they wouldn’t accidentally bump and hurt me in the night.
It took me crying to get them to agree to stay with me.
I hadn’t lied. I slept better when they were with me.
Standing up, I went to the bathroom. I no longer had to leave the bandage on. The wound was healing well, so I could remove it, shower, then put on a new one. After giving me a dose of intravenous antibiotics, Zara had given me three days’ worth of oral antibiotics to make sure I was covered.
“Daya, are you alright?” Stalker called from the other side of the bathroom door. That was when I noticed that I’d been staring sightlessly in the mirror, lost in thought. I hadn’t turned on the water or even used the toilet.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just zoning out this morning. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes,” I told him.
I rushed to use the toilet, wash my hands and face, and brush my teeth and hair. When I came out of the bathroom, they were lounging in the bedroom.
“Hailstorm, are you sure you’re okay? Are you hurting? Should you take a painkiller?” Predator asked, concerned.
“It doesn’t hurt enough to warrant one of those. I was thinking.”
I went to the closet to get out my clothes.
“What were you thinking about?” Stalker asked.
“Trying to recall if I made someone mad enough to want me dead. And what will be the outcome of Marshall’s parole meeting today? It’s supposed to be at ten. Are you guys going to watch to see if he shows?”
“We thought about it, but it was decided that we would send a couple of less well-known guys. Road Dog and Hatchet are going. In case it was Marshall who shot at you, because he’d recognize us,” Stalker explained.
I fought not to ask them what they were hiding. They went about their morning routines, then got dressed. Out in the kitchen, I found Breezy up, already making coffee.
“Morning, how did you sleep?” she asked.
“I slept decent. You?”
“Not too bad. Do you want me to make breakfast?”
“I’m not really hungry. We’ll ask the guys when they get out here. They shouldn’t be long.” I told her, as I poured myself a cup of coffee and added creamer.
I couldn’t do it plain. I sat at the kitchen table. My sister sat in a chair diagonal from me. I could tell she had something on her mind. She was pensive. But I knew sometimes I had to wait until she was ready to talk, rather than try to coax it out of her before she was.
“Do you think it was Marshall who shot you?” she asked softly.
I reached over to take her hand that was resting on the table. “Honestly, I don’t know. How would he know where to find us? Or the route we took?”
“Why do bad people like him seem to get away with stuff even though at first it seemed he wouldn’t? He touched me and made me do things to him, but I got lucky. I’m still a virgin. But he took that away from you. You suffered longer than I did. And I feel bad.”
“Feel bad about what?” I asked.
“That I want him dead. Does it make us bad people that we want that?”
“No—”
A deep male voice cut off my reply. It was Predator’s.
“It doesn’t make you a bad person at all.
He’s a monster for what he did. It’s not terrible to want real justice.
And now that we know what he did to Daya and suspect he did to others, it’s clear.
He’s not someone who can be rehabilitated.
Honestly, I don’t know how he survived in prison.
Other inmates typically target pedophiles and rapists. ”
“We don't want you to worry about that. If he had repented, why would he run as soon as he got out of prison? He’s up to no good. And if he was the one to shoot your sister, that only proves he’s not sorry for what he did,” Stalker added.
“No one is totally good or bad, but when someone is more bad than good, then it’s a problem. Sometimes, it can be turned around, but he’s thirty-six years old. If he hadn’t done it by now, then it’s a good bet he can’t or won’t,” I told her.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that. You’re right. I’m not going to stress it. But I sure hope we find him soon.”
“So do we. Maybe we’ll get lucky today after all,” Predator said.
I sat there and listened as they joked and teased while the three of them made breakfast. I offered to help but was told to sit.
???
At eleven-thirty in the morning, I got the call I’d been on pins and needles about.
It came from Stalker. Both of them had gone to town to Salvation Security for the day.
They wanted to stay close in case Marshall showed, and they had to head out to wherever Hatchet and Road Dog were.
I tried to keep busy with light housework.
Breezy helped me. We ended up pacing after we were done.
When my cell phone rang, she raced to me. I answered with my insides shaking.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi, Hailstorm. Sorry, we kept you waiting. We’ve gotten an update.”
The flat tone of Stalker’s voice told me what he was about to say.
“He didn’t show,” I muttered dejectedly.
“No, he didn’t. Road Dog and Hatchet hung around until ten minutes ago, just in case he came late. We had Outlaw do his thing to make sure he hadn’t rescheduled it to another date or time. He hasn’t. It doesn’t look like he intends to comply.” Predator said.
“So what happens now?” I asked.
“We called our club brother, Law, out in Dublin Falls. He was a cop, and so was Hawk’s old lady, Nyssa.
In fact, Law and Nyssa were partners. We asked what the parole officer would do.
Law said it depends on whether this guy is very strict and conscientious.
If he is, he’ll ask the police to check Marshall’s house.
If he’s more lax, he may wait until Marshall has missed another one or two meetings before escalating.
If Steven Bauer or anyone else goes to Marshall’s house, Outlaw will pick it up on the cameras there.
We’re still in a wait-and-see holding pattern. ” Stalker explained.
I blew out a tense breath.
“I knew I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but I did. Where does that leave us? If he doesn’t show his face, how can Outlaw find him? And there are no other leads. Christ! I hate this,” I growled.
“He won’t stay hidden forever. He’ll come out for a reason or trip up. Maybe Outlaw finds an unlikely lead that leads to Webb through someone else. It’s hard to wait, but we’ve been in this kind of situation before. Eventually, we get whoever we’re after.” Predator reassured us.
We mumbled a few halfhearted replies and listened to their reassurances that we’d get him.
Before they hung up, they promised to get home early tonight.
They didn't want us to prepare dinner. We’d order in.
After we hung up, Breezy excused herself to go to her room.
I went to ours, but it wasn’t to mope or rest. It was to get my battle plan in order.
I knew what had to be done. Only I’d have to do it on the sly because my men would lose their minds if I told them what I wanted to do.
They weren’t the only ones who could have secrets.