Chapter 22
TAYA
“Do you have any idea how jealous I am right now?” Lynn asked through the speaker.
Kaylee was quick to say, “I’m not jealous at all. Chickens shit everywhere, and I’m done with anything that doesn’t take care of themselves during and after that process.”
“I want chickens so bad, but it’s just not going to happen. I have a house in a city that’s run by people who don’t understand my needs.”
“Aren’t you going to move into a barn or something?” Kaylee asked Lynn.
“A barndominium, northerner! Good grief, it’s like we’re from two different worlds,” Lynn said with an eye roll.
“Focus, ladies!” I ordered. With an excited squeal, I bounced in the seat and squealed, “I’m getting chickens today!”
“Next thing you know, she’s gonna be sending us pictures of her big cock.” Kaylee and I laughed before Lynn said, “And I’m gonna be so jealous that I end up killing her off in a book to make myself feel better.”
“You know, most people say you can’t kill everyone that pisses you off, but those people aren’t writers. We get to do it whenever and however we want!”
“I really love my job,” Lynn said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Are you alone while you’re driving?” Kaylee asked.
“Yes. I’m meeting Chevy at the post office to pick up my chickens!”
“How many times are you going to scream in our ear like that?” Kaylee asked. “I think you just cracked the screen on my laptop.”
“I’m going to send you a million pictures,” I promised.
“I hate you a little more every minute,” Lynn pouted. She got over it quickly and asked, “How many did you get?”
“Even though Chevy built the coop to hold quite a few, I decided to start off small and add to the flock gradually.”
“By small, do you mean you got two or two dozen? It’s hard to tell with you sometimes,” Kaylee pointed out.
“I got eight.”
“What kinds?” Lynn asked.
“All different kinds!”
“A chicken is a chicken, right? What’s the big deal?” Kaylee asked.
“Ignore her and talk to me,” Lynn ordered. “What did you get?”
“I got two Australorps, two Plymouth Rocks, two Copper Marans, and two Easter Eggers.”
“What I got out of that sentence is you have two Australians, two pilgrims, two brown chickens, and two bunnies,” Kaylee teased.
“She’s going to have colorful eggs,” Lynn explained.
“So, she’s getting eight easter bunnies?” Kaylee said, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“I just can’t with you!”
“I’m almost to the post office, so I’m going to let you two duke it out without supervision,” I told them as I turned at the light and watched Chevy pull into the parking lot of the post office on his motorcycle.
“I can see Chevy in the distance, so I’m not paying attention to you right now anyway. ”
“Blah, blah, blah. We don’t like you either!” Lynn said cheerfully. “Send pictures!”
“I will, I promise.”
“For every picture of chickens you send me, I’m going to send one back of someone's feet,” Kaylee threatened. “I know how you hate that.”
“Goodbye!” I sang in response to Kaylee’s threat. “Be jealous, Lynn! Kiss my ass, Kaylee!”
I hit the button to end the call as I waited for traffic to pass so I could turn and smiled when I saw Chevy leaning against his motorcycle looking down at his phone. When my phone dinged, I realized he was texting me, but I ignored it since I was about to see him in person.
He didn’t look up as I passed, but my phone started ringing, so I hurried to park. Unfortunately, the only space large enough for my SUV was at the back of the lot, and I was surprised when another SUV pulled to a stop behind me.
I grabbed my phone and stuck my hand in my purse before I opened the door, mindful of the fact that I would be out in the open, something that had terrified me since the day of the attack, and then got out to greet my man and pick up my chickens.
I’d always wanted them, but like all of my other dreams, Boyd had scoffed at the idea. It still irritated me to think of how long I spent married to a man who obviously didn’t care about me and took me for granted at every turn.
Chevy was nothing like that. He had heard me talking to Juni about how much I wanted to have farm animals, and instead of blowing it off until I fulfilled my dreams myself, he took the initiative and built me a coop with his own hands and then sat with me while I pored over pictures and information, trying to decide what kind of chickens to get.
God, I really loved that . . .
I looked up and realized that the SUV was still parked, but the driver was now standing at the end of my vehicle waiting for me.
My hand tightened on the gun in my purse, but I relaxed a little when I saw it was a woman standing there.
She didn’t move any closer and didn’t look happy to see me either, so I asked, “Can I help you?”
“Yeah. Finally!” the woman replied as I realized that it wasn’t just resting bitch face that gave her the pinched expression. No, she was angry. Very angry. “It’s about fucking time you made an appearance.”
I heard gravel crunch behind me right before a hand went around my throat and pulled me backwards.
Even as I was thrown off-balance, I didn’t lose the grip on my gun, and since it was aimed at the ground, I focused on the man behind me and rested my hand on his thigh.
The second I felt it at my wrist I pulled the trigger and got part of the reaction I was hoping for but then a surprise that I wasn’t expecting.
The man shouted in pain, which hurt the ear his mouth was right next to, and then squeezed my neck even tighter as he started to fall backwards.
I was helpless to brace myself,and didn’t have time to think before we hit the ground.
Naturally, my hands came up, and when the person holding me jerked me to the side, my finger squeezed the trigger again.
A woman screamed, and I hoped that I’d somehow managed to shoot that bitch, but when I heard a man grunt, I became terrified there was someone else with her.
I pulled my hand out of my purse and reached up to scratch at the arm holding my neck, desperate to get out of his grip, and was surprised when Chevy’s face appeared above me.
He pulled his fist back, and my eyes got wide as it flew toward my face. There was a sickening crunch when it hit its target, and the man beneath me went limp.
I pulled the arm off my neck, and Chevy reached for my hand and yanked me into his arms before he pulled open the door of my SUV and ordered, “Get in, Tay!”
“We should call the . . .”
“Get in and call. I don’t want you out here in the open until I get this taken care of,” Chevy said as he shoved me into the SUV. “Start it up, and if something else happens or you hear me yell, run over whoever gets in your way and get the fuck out of here!”
I didn’t have a chance to say anything else before the door slammed shut, and I hit the lock button before I pushed the ignition. Once the SUV was running, I looked around to find Chevy and then fumbled around in my purse with shaky hands, trying to find my phone.
Suddenly, the SUV was filled with Brandt’s ringtone, and I pushed the button on the screen to tell him I’d have to call him back.
“Brandt, I’ve gotta . . .”
“Someone shot Dad!”
“What?” I yelled. “I’ve gotta call 911.”
“I already did. We’re at the . . .”
“I just shot a man in the parking lot of the fucking post office, Brandt!” I screamed. “I’ll have to call you back!”
I still couldn’t find my phone, so I reached up and pushed the button on the rearview mirror to call for help.
Within just a few seconds, a voice came through the speakers asking the nature of my emergency.
I worked hard to regulate my breathing and be calm while I explained where I was and what had happened.
It took the operator a few seconds to grasp what I was telling her, but she assured me that help was nearby and would be here soon. I was watching my mirrors, looking for Chevy, when I heard the sirens in the distance and told her that I needed to hang up.
“Ma’am! I need you to stay on the line.”
“My boyfriend is out there somewhere, and . . .”
The first cruiser pulled up in the parking lot of the building next door and screeched to a stop just a few feet in front of my SUV.
I tossed my purse on the passenger seat and rolled my window down before I yelled, “That man tried to kidnap me, and my boyfriend is out there somewhere trying to help!”
“Put your hands on the wheel!” the police officer ordered as he reached for his service weapon.
I did as I was told and watched him look from me to the man on the ground beside the SUV. When I saw that he looked confused, I leaned my head out of the open window and gasped at the sight below my door.
“Chevy!” I yelled. He was straddling the man on the asphalt, and it looked like they were grappling for the gun in the man’s hand.
The police officer pulled his gun, so I yelled, “The long-haired one is my boyfriend that’s helping me!”
Chevy pulled one of his hands free and reared back before he punched the already bleeding man in the face. When he pulled his arm back to hit him again, blood flew off his hand, and I felt it hit me on the cheek right before he punched the man again.
The man went limp, and Chevy threw both of his hands in the air and said, “I’m just helping her!”
The police officer was obviously confused, and I didn’t blame him.
With his long hair and tattooed hands, Chevy didn’t exactly look like the law-abiding hero of the situation, but I knew for a fact that he was, so I tried to help by yelling, “The man on the ground tried to kidnap me, and there’s a woman somewhere . . .”
Just then, the SUV started moving, and whoever was driving jumped the curb to take them into the parking lot behind the post office.
The police officer reached up to key his mic and give a description of the vehicle.
While he was talking, I heard more screeching tires and saw another unit pulling in behind the first followed by a tow truck that I knew had to be one of my sons.
With his hands still in the air, Chevy started explaining what happened to the officer, and when the man beneath him started to regain consciousness, Chevy followed the officer’s directions and put his hand on my SUV to help him brace himself to stand up.
It took a lot more effort than I thought it should, but when he put his hand on the door and I saw his knuckles, I realized he must be in pain.
“Oh, Chevy,” I whispered as I leaned closer so I could inspect his hand. “You’re hurt!”
“Just a little.”
Chevy pressed himself as close to my SUV as he could to give the officer behind him room to cuff the asshole that had grabbed me, but the other officer ordered Chevy to put his hands back up and walk in his direction.
I saw Blaine standing beside the tow truck, all but wringing his hands as he stayed back like the policeman had ordered.
I put my hand up and mouthed, “I’m okay!
” in the hopes of giving him some peace of mind.
The second the officer pulled the man up off the ground, I threw my door open and jumped out of the SUV so I could go to Chevy.
The officer yelled for me to stay in the car, but I ignored him and ran toward Chevy, who was saying something to Blaine over the hood of the patrol car.
When the officer put his hand on Chevy’s shoulder, every cop cam video I’d seen ran through my mind.
I just knew he was about to slam him down and put handcuffs on him.
I was just about to yell for him to stop when Chevy’s hand came down and thumped the hood, and then his head fell forward before his body slumped and followed suit.
The police officer grunted with the effort he had to exert to hold Chevy there, and before I could get to the car, Blaine rushed around it to help him.
“What’s wrong? Did he pass out?” I asked, trying to figure out how to help.
“This man was helping you?”
“Yes!” I yelled as I looked at Chevy’s relaxed face.
It was chaos as another officer pulled up and helped the first lay Chevy on the ground, and Blaine pulled me into his arms when the first officer yelled for us to step back and give them room.
I knew they were trained in first aid, and I didn’t want to get in their way, so I held onto my son as tears streamed down my face.
I didn’t know who the bitch was that shot my man, but she was going to pay dearly. I’d make sure of it.